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baronessvonglitter · 5 months ago

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Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

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pedgito · 11 months ago

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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately.

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home.

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily.

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be.

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming.

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily.

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so.

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl.

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

You shouldn’t even consider it.

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much.

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed.

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice.

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more.

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch.

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing.

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you.

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise.

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly.

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal.

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way.

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be.

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying.

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care.

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck.

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them.

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face.

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in.

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed.

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted.

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings.

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks.

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months.

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel.

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #bfd!joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #my writing

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rafeandonlyrafe · 10 months ago

Text

daddys home

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, establish relationship (theyre married!), dad!rafe, mom!reader, p in v sex (protected), female receiving oral, mentions of pregnancy/breeding, readers stretch marks are described briefly

“when is daddy getting home?” your daughter asks for what feels like the millionth time since rafe left for work this morning.

you sigh, rubbing your forehead, hoping it alieves your splitting headache. “any minute now, poppy. why don't you go get a cup of water for him and leave it on the counter?”

you know that the task will occupy her for some time, having to drag her step stool that she uses when helping you cook around the kitchen to get a cup and fill it.

you let out a breath of relief when you hear rafe pull into the driveway.

“daddy! daddy!” poppy hears the noise as well, running to the garage door, jumping up and down excitedly as she waits for rafe to come in.

she jump-tackles him as soon as he opens the door. rafe laughs, catching her in his arms.

“hi baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of her head, toeing his shoes off onto the mat.

“welcome home.” you say, moving over to rafe, pressing your face into the shoulder that poppy isn't currently resting hers against.

“you okay?” rafe whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. he sets poppy down carefully, only half listening as she begins to tell him about getting rafe a water all by herself like a big girl.

“yeah, she's just been… a lot today.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around rafes waist, snuggling into his warm body.

“hey, poppy. wanna spend the night at aunt wheezies?” rafe asks.

“yes! yes! yes!” poppy screams, quickly flying up the stairs to her room with her unstoppable toddler energy to pack a bag.

“thank you.” you look to rafe, taking a moment to press a kiss to his lips.

“wheeze has been begging to have her over, she'll be so happy.” rafe says, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “and you can get a real break.”

“god, i need it too.” you laugh, pulling away from rafe but not before giving him another kiss. “i love poppy to death, but she can be so exhausting some days.”

“aw, baby.” rafe coos. “why don't you go get in the bath, ill help poppy pack a bag then take her over the wheezies.”

“mmm, sounds perfect, can't wait to spend a night just us.” you wink at rafe before both heading further into the house and up the stairs. poppy has had a string of clinginess lately, especially at night knowing you and rafe are just down the hall, so she fakes nightmares to sleep in your bed.

it's nice having her so close, but at the same time you haven't been intimate with rafe in months.

“poppy.” you call into her room, seeing her stuffing pajamas into her backpack. “you be good for auntie wheezie, okay? ill pick you up in the morning and if you behaved, we can go to the park.”

“okay, mommy.” poppy nods, a serious look on her face.

“daddy is gonna help you pack then take you over.” you finish, looking to rafe.

“thank you again babe.” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his cheek before heading towards your bedroom. you turn on the hot tap in the master bath, letting the jacuzzi tub fill as you scrounge in the cabinets for your epsom salt.

you let out a groan when you sink into the bath, eyes closing as you relax into the hot water, your muscles finally getting a break after entertaining poppy all day.

you relax in the bath until the water starts to turn room temperature. you pull the drain before getting out, toweling yourself dry. you go through your skincare routine quickly before pulling your robe on.

you exit the bathroom to see rafe on the bed, back against the headboard, having changed out of his work clothes to sweats.

“was she excited?” you question.

“poppy or wheezie?” rafe jokes, a soft smile on his face. “both of them were so excited, but i think wheeze might have more fun than poppy does.”

“that's good.” you laugh before taking a deep sigh.

“how are you feeling now?” rafe asks, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. you move to stand in front of him, letting your knees press into the side of the mattress.

“a million times better. no more headache.”

“good.” rafe tugs at the strap on your robe, not hard enough to undo it, but making his intentions clear. “wanna lay down?”

“just lay down?” you smirk, raising one eyebrow.

“if that's what you want,” rafe takes your hands in his, bringing your knuckles up to his lips, pressing kisses along your skin. “mrs. cameron.”

“i want you.” you tell rafe, taking your hand out of his grasp to tug your robe open, revealing yourself to him. you slide the fabric off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

“you're so beautiful.” rafe says, eyes sweeping over your naked body. he rubs a hand over your stomach, the small lines running over your skin, the physical reminder of your pregnancy.

“this part of you is the most beautiful.” rafe leans forward, kissing the stretch marks. “because it shows that you carried our daughter. kept her safe inside you for nine months until he she was ready to see the world.”

“you're gonna make me cry.” you sniffle, feeling tears start to form.

“wanna make you cry a different way.” rafe says, standing up suddenly while turning you swiftly, pushing your hips down so now you're the one sat on the edge of the mattress.

rafe sinks down to his knees, spreading your thighs open for him, revealing your cunt.

“you know-” you gasp when rafe begins to kiss along your inner thighs, inching closer to your center. “i was worried when i first got pregnant that you wouldn’t be attracted to me after i gave birth.”

“really?” rafe questions. “why would you ever worry about something as impossible as that?”

“pregnancy brain.” you shrug, eyes fluttering closed as rafe spreads your thighs further, wrapping his hand around your ankle and bringing your heel up onto the bed.

“well, mrs. cameron-” rafe leans in, licking a stripe straight through your folds. “no need to worry anymore, i find you very attractive.”

you smile, bringing one hand to rafes hair, clutching it between your finger as he dives in, tongue swiping through your wetness, tasting you on his tongue. rafe works his way up from your entrance to your clit before lapping over the sensitive skin there.

“taste so good mama.” rafe hums, letting his tongue flick and play with your clit. you let out a cry, glad that you’re able to be as loud as you want with poppy out of the house.

“more.” you whine.

“all these years later, carrying my baby and you're still my little slut.” rafe tsks, bringing his finger to your entrance and plunging it in, thrusting in and out slowly as his lips wrap around your clit, giving gentle sucks to build you up, tease you.

“can’t wait for you to fuck me.” you toss your head back, pushing your hips even further into rafes face.

“yeah, you miss my cock?”

“all the time.” you whine, bringing your other foot onto the bed as well, spreading your knees wide open to give rafe even more space to work into you as he adds a second finger.

“you think after being married for five years you’d be sick of me.” rafe jokes, but you shake your head.

“never, daddy.” the nickname impacts rafe differently now that he is actually a dad, knowing it comes from a different place.

“god, i was gonna have you cum on my tongue three times before i fucked you, but i need you too badly.” rafe stands up, but not before pressing another kiss to your clit, now puffy and red from the attention.

rafe hesitates before reaching for the nightstand drawer, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but before you can comment on it, he is removing his clothes and rolling the condom onto his length and lining himself up with your cunt.

he rubs briefly through your folds before pushing in, sinking into your pussy. you let out a loud moan, unafraid to get interrupted by your daughter as rafe copies your moan right back.

“such a perfect pussy for me baby.” rafe coos, beginning to pump his hips forward. you wrap your legs around his hips as he leans forward, pushing until your back is resting against the sheets. he hovers over you, pressing your lips together.

you moan into his mouth, moving your hips up and down in sync with his thrusts. your bare chests are rubbing together, yours still slightly damp from the bath. your nipples catch as rafe moves, making you whimper.

“so big.” you cry out, hands moving along rafes back, feeling the cords of muscles as they stretch with his movements.

“filling you up real good, huh?” rafe smirks, cocky that he can still get you in this state just from his dick.

“so good.” you turn your head to bite rafes earlobe, tugging on it. “you know,-” you gasp when rafe speeds up. “this is the same position we were in when i got pregnant with poppy.”

you remember the night well, when you ran out of condoms and decided together fuck it, were married, and you were blessed with your little girl soon after.

“yeah? want me to take the condom off mama? fill your belly up again?” rafe asks, moving a thumb to your clit, rubbing it quickly.

“yeah, daddy, yeah i do- fuck!” your back arches off the bed as rafe pumps faster, your body quivering as his thumb strokes you to orgasm, the tightening of your cunt causing him to spill into the condom.

rafe breaths heavily, hips slowly grinding into you as you work through your highs.

rafe pulls out as you try to stop your deep gasps of breaths. he pulls the condom off and tosses it in the trash can before climbing back onto the bed, flopping down next to you.

“were you serious?” rafe asks.

you don't need any more context to know exactly what rafe is referring to.

“i wouldn't mind having another baby.” you say honestly. “besides, poppy will start kindergarten in around a year, so think about in around nine months having another little one.” you feel yourself already beginning to tear up at the thought, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“oh, baby.” rafe coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling you into him. “well, since poppy is still at aunt wheezies…” rafe trails off, moving his hand from your waist lower to cup your pussy. “we can get trying right now.”

“it only took you one try for poppy.” you remind rafe, slinging your leg over rafes body, twisting yourself to sit on top of him, rubbing your cunt over his length.

“yeah…” rafe places his hands on your hips, flipping you over so your back is against the bed. “but maybe i want more than one try.” rafe says as his cock slides back inside of you.

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tunatoge · 11 months ago

Text

pairing: teen!s. gojo x fem!reader (use of "mom")

contents: gojo fucks up tsumiki's talent show (whoopsies!), mention of smoking and swear words, slight slut shaming

“my parents are really cool—uh, hi mom… hi, satoru,” tsumiki announces to the group of students and parents during her talent show. you glance at gojo who holds his phone up like a proud dad, recording the entire thing as he gives tsumiki a thumbs up. “and they helped me with this,” she adds as she wrings her hands. “this is for you guys… and megumi.”

you giggle as megumi shifts in his seat, his cheeks a soft pink. you stop laughing when an explicit song starts playing from the auditorium’s stereo system, tsumiki awkwardly dancing on stage to the music. you snap your head towards gojo, your mouth agape. gojo stands up as he whoops and hollers, still recording tsumiki.

“that’s my daughter!” he shouts as parents rush to cover their kids’ ears. “yeah, tsumiki! you’re doing great!”

you cover megumi’s ears as you step down on gojo’s right foot. “satoru,” you hiss angrily, watching from the corner of your eye as the school staff struggle to pause the music. “what the fuck is this?”

he looks at you, his blue eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit room. “what? it’s a good song!” he insists.

“yeah,” you say as the music pauses and tsumiki bows before skipping away. “for people our age while we’re out clubbing and drinking! that was so inappropriate for kids!”

satoru sits down next to you, ignoring the way the other parents glare at him and curse him out under their breath. “she told me she wanted to stick out so i told her i knew what to do!”

you frown and you uncup your hands from megumi’s ears. he glares at gojo with you, easily knowing gojo fucked up.

“i thought we agreed you’d stop helping the kids with their talent shows after you told megumi that using jujutsu for a magic show was a good idea,” you hiss, briefly turning around and apologizing to the angry mom behind you who kicks at your feet.

“god,” the mom hisses after seeing your face, “of course it’s some stupid teen parents.”

you frown at her words, keeping megumi from jumping up and attempting to fight the lady. you excuse yourself, squeezing past knees as they look at you and glare.

“did you hear what that little girl said?” someone whispers to their partner as you walk by. “she said mom and satoru, not dad. that’s gotta be one messed up family.” they snicker.

you grit your teeth as you move towards the exit, quietly squeezing out the door and pulling a pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket. you always knew you and gojo were going to face backlash for raising tsumiki and megumi while being kids yourselves, but you never thought you’d be facing it yourself after the kids had taken to calling you mom and refused to call satoru dad. you sigh and move away from the school building, taking a cigarette between your lips. you dig around for your zippo, frowning when you can’t find it.

“i thought we agreed you’d stop smoking,” gojo says behind you. you look up at him, tsumiki in his arms and megumi next to him.

you swallow as you place the cigarette back in its box. “not like i could’ve smoked it anyway,” you say as you take megumi’s hand in yours and walk towards the car. “i lost my lighter, the one suguru gave me.”

“i have it.” you look at gojo as he digs around in his pocket and pulls out your tarnished silver zippo lighter. he flips it around and around in his hands, index finger gently running over the engraving on its side. “hand me your cigarettes and i’ll give it back to you.”

you sigh as you unlock the car door and situate megumi into his car seat. “i don’t need it if i’m not smoking.” you buckle megumi in and gently ruffle his hair before shutting the door.

gojo sighs as he sets tsumiki in the car and shuts the door. “what’s wrong?” he asks, rounding the car and taking your elbows into his overly large palms. he smooths them up your triceps, touch airy and light. “you only ever feel the need to smoke when something’s bothering you.”

you sigh as you lean into his touch. “i’m just tired of people assuming i’m some whore who spreads their legs for anyone. it really hurts when parents look at me with so much disgust when tsumiki or megumi call me mom.” you lean forward and press your forehead into gojo’s firm chest.

“y’know,” gojo starts as he rests his chin in your hair, “those parents probably would have never stepped up like you did. you gave up the rest of your childhood for theirs and those stupid adults will never know that.” he pulls away and carefully looks you in the eye. “they can assume as much as they want, pretty, because the four of us know the truth and the truth is much stronger.”

you let out a choked laugh as you press your head back into his chest. “yeah, you’re right. they’re just some stupid old people.”

gojo laughs as he fully wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth in the parking lot of tsumiki’s school.

megumi swings his door open. “can we go home now?” he calls. “tsumiki’s tired.”

you laugh as you pull away from gojo and wipe at your eyes. “yes, we can,” you respond, digging in your pockets and handing gojo your cigarettes. he smiles and hands you your zippo in return. “mom’s gotta have a long talk with dad once we get there.”

gojo grins at the way you laugh at megumi’s scrunched up face. he’s thoroughly glad that it was you who stepped up with him.

#vians.scribbs #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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boyfhee · 5 months ago

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ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼

﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.

꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy

꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light

꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^

001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL

sunghoon is spiralling again.

a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it.

but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.

for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister.

back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait.

if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.

sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you.

‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.

however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks.

“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away.

“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.

“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”

he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”

“my phone died,”

“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”

“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”

and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”

“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”

sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.

he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?

and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?

sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.

he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”

“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,”

sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night.

it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two.

“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts.

“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”

“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”

and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips.

he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.

it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension.

“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer.

“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”

sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms.

002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY

sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.

“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee.

he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”

he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.

“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips.

“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”

your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”

“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”

“we’re not dating,”

“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”

“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”

he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you.

“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”

“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”

you two just bask in silence after that.

he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing.

“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”

those words ring in his mind for a good while.

you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out.

it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it.

noh chaeun 4:15pm hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled are you up for some coffee?

sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.

you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke.

that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys.

it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh.

sunghoon 4:21pm sure, i’ll pick you up in ten

“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”

“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.

sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out.

“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”

“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”

“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”

“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.

“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”

and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.

he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.

what the heck?!

surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything.

for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.

he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock.

“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?”

“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”

and his heart drops down to his stomach.

this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. )

you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”

“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice.

he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay.

jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones.

but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you.

in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep.

it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.

003. A CHANGE OF STANCE

sunghoon thinks you’re hot.

what the fuck?

“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”

“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain.

even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked.

absolutely. completely. fucked.

nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,”

you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”

“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,”

“are you high?”

well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course.

“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.

“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.

“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.

a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed.

a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck.

“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck.

now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.

“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down.

but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot.

he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.

it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.

a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.

“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”

“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”

and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”

“do you think he’s pretty?”

“of course,”

“do you think she’s hot?”

“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”

“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.

“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up.

“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”

and…silence.

absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief.

“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”

“she’s my roommate,”

“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.

“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.

“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”

he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”

“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”

and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.

perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.

sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.

you look miserable.

and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.

“let’s go inside,”

004. CANDLELIT

“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”

“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,”

it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries.

on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”

“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.

“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”

“stop it!”

he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.

you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.

he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat.

“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.

“are you cooking?”

he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?”

you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.

you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room.

sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.

“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”

he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered.

“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.

“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”

“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.

sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light.

you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow.

“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.

it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”

you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his.

it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips.

he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”

and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently.

it takes a passing second for you to realise what you’re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.

he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin.

he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire.

your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again.

“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.

“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,”

005. WHERE THE LINE FADES

when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness.

he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.

the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.

“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”

actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.

“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”

you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room.

you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—”

“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”

and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.

it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.

“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”

you don’t even like the sound of that.

“yeah,”

you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”

and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.

or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.

there’s no sign of you.

it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.

but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.

which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.

he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response.

he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”

“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch.

it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out.

it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question.

“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply.

“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”

“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.

you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands.

sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it.

and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips.

“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”

“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”

“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”

there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of.

you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you.

he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed.

“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”

and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it.

“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.

you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him.

“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”

˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things

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topguncortez · 1 month ago

Text

Pink Skies - J. Seresin x Shy!Wifey

whumptober masterlist || previous day

Prompt: "Leave No Trace Behind, Like You don't Even Exist"

synopsis: The Seresin kids have all come home, but not for the reason they wish it was for. Jake has to face his hardest challenge yet, saying goodbye to the love of his life. Based on the song "Pink Skies" By Zach Bryan

warnings: MAJOR character death, implied suicide, dying of a broken heart, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of postmortem body tampering (does not happen, but it is a concern that is brought up), mentions of parental death, grieving process.

word count: 4.3k

“The kids are in town for a funeral. So pack the car and dry your eyes.”

Alex let out a deep sigh as he parked his car in front of the one place he had been dreading coming back to. Ever since getting that call, he had waited until the last possible moment to make the trip down from Lemoore. He would’ve put it off longer, showing up the day of, but a tearful call from his sister told him he needed to be back sooner.

The house felt cold as he turned the knob, the only sign of life was the misplaced shoes by the front door and his dad’s truck in the driveway. He had been back a few weeks prior, helping do some odd end things while his dad attended to his mother, and even then, the house still felt warm and lived in. Now, this house felt anything like the childhood home he had been raised in.

“Elle!?” Alex shouted, hearing voices and clattering from the kitchen.

“In here!” His sister called out. Her blonde hair looked like a halo around her head as she turned to greet her brother, “Hey,” Her smile was bright, well as bright as it could be as she pulled him for a tight hug, “How are ya stranger?”

“Been good,” Alex nodded stiffly, pulling back from his sister, “Where’s everyone else?”

Ella sighed, stuffing her hands in the back pocket of her jeans, “Eli and Stella are at Val and Javy’s. I sent the twins to go grocery shopping and Dad is um. . . at the funeral home with grandpa and grandma.”

Alex nodded again, watching as his sister got back to work cooking whatever meal she managed to scrounge up. Even though she had the looks and personality of their father, Ella Seresin was her mother to a t. She was the one who spent hours in the kitchen helping make meals and bake. Alex sat down at the kitchen table, glancing briefly at the various hospital bills and sympathy cards that had gathered there. Flowers had also started to gather around the kitchen, and he guessed that Ella also took care of all those.

“Where’s Piper?” Ella spoke up from stirring something on the stove, “I swear Dad must have been photosynthesizing these past two weeks. I barely had the basic ingredients for spaghetti.”

“She’ll come down tomorrow with Billie.”

“God, I miss that girl.”

Alex did too even though it had only been a day since he had seen his little girl. Her big blue eyes, soft blonde curls and big smile could make anyone in this situation feel better. All he wanted to do was curl up with his girls by his side.

The two eldest Seresin kids sat in silence as Ella continued to work on dinner. Alex missed the days of being so near his siblings. Him and Ella had always been two peas in a pod, though their personalities varied greatly, they always leaned on each other when they needed one another. Alex could remember those late nights, sneaking back through the backdoor after being at a party they shouldn’t have been at. Their mom, somehow, always knowing that they had left, would leave a plate of cookies, water, and tylenol on the kitchen counter with a note:

“Cookies gone, means you are home. Wake me if you need - love, mom”

How Alex wished he could turn back time and get a plate of her homemade chocolate chip cookies again.

The silence was broken with the sound of the garage door opening, followed by the rambunctious sound of the youngest Seresin boys. Jasper and Maxwell Seresin stumbled through the door, grocery bags lined on their arms. Jasper’s blonde hair was long, hitting past his shoulders while Maxwell kept his cut short in a fade. Their eyes both widened seeing their older brother sitting at the table.

“Do I have to like, salute you or some shit?” Maxwell asked, and Alex chuckled.

“No you shit head,” Alex smiled, standing up and walking to his younger brother. The boy set the groceries down, embracing Alex in a hug. Alex fought back the sting of tears as he hugged him. Being almost 10 years apart had its positives and negatives. Alex got to watch them grow up with a whole new perspective, but he also missed out on those vital years when he went to the academy. While Maxwell decided he too, was going to join the military, getting into West Point (something that surprised the whole family when he applied), Jasper was going to NYU to major in music (also something that surprised the whole family).

“Missed you bro,” Maxwell nodded, pulling away from him.

“Missed you too,” Alex said, “And you,” He looked at Jasper, “Looking like fucking Fabio.”

Jasper chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “Someone had to live the California lifestyle.”

“Get over here,” Alex chuckled, pulling him into a hug too, “How are you guys? Doing. . . okay?”

The twins looked at each other, it was a loaded question with about ten different answers they could give. The easy answer was to say “yes, we’re fine,” but they knew that would be a lie. Instead, they both just shrugged, grabbing plastic bags from the ground and beginning to put them away. Alex shot his sister a look, who also just shrugged. She knew them better than he did, having stayed in San Diego for college, completing ROTC before going to flight school and becoming a pilot herself. As much as Alex envied his sister for living the dream that he wanted, he was mighty proud of her. Only a handful of women were pilots in the Navy, and an even smaller number were TopGun pilots.

“I’m making spaghetti,” Ella said, trying to cut the tension in the kitchen, “Should be ready soon. Anyone heard from Dad? Eli?”

“Eli said he’s staying at Aunt Val’s for dinner, but will be home for dessert,” Jasper chimed in, “You did make dessert, didn’t you?”

“The fuck I look like?” Ella sassed, “Betty Crocker?”

“Mom would’ve made dessert,” Maxwell said.

And just like that, the tension filled the kitchen once again. Ella looked around, trying to fight back the burning sensation of tears in her eyes. She was yet to cry, and she told herself she wasn’t going to start crying over a comment about dessert. She sniffled, blinking back tears as she looked up at the ceiling, seeing that there was still a crack in the foundation that her dad was supposed to fix years ago.

“You’re right,” Ella nodded, “And she would’ve let us take turns having a spoon of batter.” Ella clapped her hands, “Alright, pretty sure I wrote down the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. Help me get them started?” She looked at her three brothers, who all nodded and helped her find the items.

— — —

“I know they’ve got plenty of young blood left in them”

It was dark by the time Jake had returned back to the house. This day had been more exhausting than the past three had been. Who knew there were so many details to decide on for a funeral? Jake was thankful that he had sat down and gone through all that so many, many years ago, putting it all in a manila envelope he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk. He was slightly pissed that she had never thought of doing that, but then again, no one expected to one day just die before their life was truly over.

Jake was surprised when he opened his front door to be met with the sound of laughter and soft music in the background. His house had been quiet for so many days that he had somewhat started to get used to it. He tossed his keys in the bowl by the front door and toed off his shoes, before making his way to the kitchen where he was met with the sight of his five children, all sitting around the table, all laughing.

“Oh my god,” Eli shook his head, tears in his eyes, “I don’t remember that at all.”

“Oh I do,” Alex said, “I thought Mom was going to ground my ass for days. I did everything I could to glue Bucky’s urn back together.”

The whole table burst back out into laughter, not a single one of them paying attention to their dad in the doorway. It felt like old times, and for the first time in a week, Jake felt like his heart was beating in his chest again. There was warmth in the house that he once considered his home.

“Hey dad,” Ella said, tipping her wine glass to him, “Alex was just telling us about how he and Eli decided to play football in the house and broke Bucky’s urn.”

“It wasn’t me! It was Maxwell!” Alex pleaded, “I was just supposed to be babysitting.”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. Y/N had been in near tears when she came home to her eldest son sweeping up the ashes of their beloved family pet. Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing over the phone as she tried to explain.

“Surprisingly, that’s not the worst phone call I got while at work,” Jake sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting next to his daughter.

“Oh yeah?” Eli challenged, “What was the worst?”

“Rooster Bradshaw telling me that my wife had my son on our bedroom floor.”

— — —

“So clean the house, clear the drawers, mop the floors, stand tall”

Jake hated packing.

Over the course of his military career, he had packed up and moved with a moment's notice. Before he had met Y/N, all his personal belongings had been what the Navy had issued him, plus a handful of civilian clothes and things to go out in. It was easier that way, to shove all his stuff into those navy blue duffle bags and leave for his next assignment. But Y/N had changed all that the moment she came into his life.

He had never felt like he could settle down, that he could actually put things on his walls, and buy furniture and have an actual house that was a home, and not the standard issued living quarters the Navy had. When he had asked Y/N to move in with him, the first thing she showed up with was a welcome mat to place in front of the door. Jake could remember smiling so big, his cheeks hurt, before handing her his credit card and telling her, “make this place your home.”

Now, Jake sat in their bedroom, a cardboard box at his feet as he wondered where to start cleaning. He had decided last night that he was going to sell the house. It didn’t feel the same knowing that his wife wasn’t going to walk through the door anymore or spend hours upon hours in the backyard building the garden of her dreams. Their children were all scattered across the country, Ella and Alex in Northern California, Eli in the midwest, and the Twins on the East Coast. Sure, the kids were upset when Jake had told them that he was selling their family home, but they knew it was for the best. Alex had immediately opened his doors for his dad to come live with him.

Jake sighed, shaking his head and standing up from the bed. The bedroom was going to be a job for another day.

Jake walked downstairs, where his kids were busy making piles of things to keep and things to give away. He smiled as he watched them reminisce about different items they found; pictures of them as kids, old sports trophies, art projects that hung on the fridge.

“Hey, who is gonna get the door?” Jasper asked, as he was wearing an old baseball team hat.

“Oh shit yeah,” Maxwell nodded, “What are we going to do with the door?”

Alex shrugged, “It's part of the house.”

“Yeah but, it’s the door,” Jasper whispered, “We all got measured on the door. Hell, even Bucky and Steve got measured on the door.”

A pang of sadness hit Jake as he looked toward the front closet door. Jake could remember holding a very small, toddler Alex against the door as Y/N marked his height on his first birthday. It had been a tradition ever since then, each Seresin child (both human and furbaby) got measured on their birthday against the door. Jake didn’t say anything as he walked into the garage, grabbing his tool kit. His kids all stared at him as he walked in, opening the closet door and began taking it off the hinges.

“Dad. . .” Ella called out to him, but the look on his face told them he was determined to get this door off the hinges. Alex stood up from his spot on the floor, going to Jake and helping him. Once the door was off, Alex leaned it against the wall, tears in his eyes.

“So,” Jake huffed a breath, looking over at his kids, “Ella, there was no way you were four-one on your eighth birthday.”

Ella ended up taking the door home.

— — —

“If you could see ‘em now, you’d be proud.”

Ella couldn’t remember the last time she had dug her dress blues out of her closet. It had to have been for her Uncle Mav’s funeral years ago. She wasn’t shocked to see them outdated, with her old rank and ribbons still on them. She hated wearing her dress blues. Nothing good ever came from wearing dress blues.

It wasn’t very often that civilian funerals got honored this way. But when your aunt is the commander of the Pacific Fleet, some calls get made. The moment Grace “Dragon” Bradshaw got the call about Y/N Seresin, she was pulling out all the stops she could. Dragon had called Jake, telling him that she was sending a unit to stand by Y/N’s body, until she could be moved to the funeral home. It was the least she could do, given all Y/N has done over the years. Sure, being a naval aviator was hard work; flying missions at top speed, spending months at a time in the middle of the ocean, working your body to its physical and mental limits, wondering if you are going to make it home alive. But being the one at home, having to take care of the kids and the house and the animals and everything else, was also hard.

How Y/N did it, was beyond Dragon’s knowledge. Raising five kids while Jake was gone for extended periods of time. Dragon could remember the first time she had to deploy, leaving behind her husband and son, Cash, she thought she wasn’t going to make it through. Dragon had called Bradley in tears, totally ignoring the time difference, begging to see her son. It was even harder for Dragon after the birth of her daughter, Noa.

Jake sat on his bed, his hat in his hands. His thumb rubbed along the worn edge, trying to find the strength to put it on and go down stairs. He was thankful that Dragon had gotten this honor for his wife, knowing the sacrifices she had made during his time in the Navy. He never imagined that there would come a day, him still in the Navy and Y/N not here. Every plan that they ever had, the things they had dreamed about doing once the ink dried on his retirement papers.

“I want to get one of those pull-behind campers,” Y/N said as they looked up at the stars one night, “My parents did about a month-long camping trip when dad retired. I want to do that.”

“Sweets, we can do anything you want,” Jake said, looking at her like she had hung the moon. It took a strong woman to stand next to a military man, and an even stronger woman to have a family with him. If a month-long camping trip to the middle of nowhere was what she wanted, then that’s what she was going to get, “I’ve never been up to Yellowstone, or the Grand Canyon.”

“You’ve never been to the Grand Canyon!” Y/N gasped, looking over at him.

“No,” Jake shook his head, “We were going to go but we got called out.”

Y/N sighed, looking down at her hands. There were a lot of trips that they never got to go on because of Jake’s job. She hated it, but would never admit it outloud, how many things Jake had missed over the years because of the Navy. The births, the birthdays, the first steps, the first days of school, the vacations, the first dances, the first breakups, the college acceptance letters. Jake knew that she had a small resentment for what he did, it was normal, but she never held it over his head.

“Well, it’s not that cool,” Y/N said, trying to play off her sadness, “It’s like a giant red hole in the earth. And the kids really didn’t like it. Eli cried the whole time and Ella scraped her knee falling in the parking lot. Totally skippable.”

Jake gave her a small smile, reaching over and grabbing her hand, “Totally.”

Standing up from the bed, Jake ran his fingers through his graying blonde hair. He remembers joking with Y/N, shortly before her death, that he was happy he was going gray and not losing his hair. But he wouldn’t be surprised if he was going to lose it now, after the past couple of weeks he’s gone through. Jake walked down the stairs, pausing at the sight of his five kids, all of them in various different military dress uniforms, Alex and Ella both in their Navy dress blues, Eli in his Army pinks and greens, and then the twins in their very best black suits with lavender ties (Y/N’s favorite colors).

“Oh Sweets,” Jake whispered, “You would be so proud of them.”

And Y/N was beyond proud of her kids. She had jokingly gotten those car decals that say “Proud Military Mom” and “My Daughter is in the Navy!”, putting each of them in the fridge. The kids hated them, blushing in embarrassment every time someone would point them out, but Y/N was so proud of them. She even managed to find a “My Son is going to NYU!” sticker for Jasper.

“Dad, are you ready?” Maxwell asked, looking up at his father. Out of all the kids, Maxwell turned out looking the most like his mother.

Jake just nodded, walking the rest of the way down the steps and towards the garage. The kids all looked at each other, before following him out. Jake decided to ride to the funeral with Ella and Maxwell. Piper Trace, Natasha and Luke’s daughter, and Alex’s wife, had come down yesterday with their daughter, Billie, the other day. Though Jake loved his grandchild, he just couldn’t muster up the energy to keep up with her. Eli and Stella rode in another car with Jasper.

��Your funeral was beautiful. I bet God heard you coming.”

The funeral was exactly how Jake had planned it, or slightly planned it. He doesn’t remember much about sitting in the funeral director’s office, trying to make decisions on things like what color casket and flower arrangements and songs to play. But everything was perfect, from the flower arrangements to the eulogies the kids gave. When it was Jake’s turn to speak, he removed his hat, placing it gently on the head of the casket.

“I’m not sure if I can find the right words to say,” Jake started, looking at the large portrait of his wife, “There’s no right words to explain what it feels like to lose the love of your life. Though we’ve been together for half the time we’ve been alive. . . it still feels like we didn’t get enough time. And some days, I’m not sure if I can live without her.”

It felt like a constant battle for Jake. Getting up every morning and looking over, finding her spot on the bed still made. Seeing her clothes still hung up and put away. Sitting on the couch, waiting for her to walk in with her hands full of either flowers or floral magazines having to get things ready at the shop, or hustling in to grab a quick bite of dinner before dashing off to whatever child’s event she had to go to. There were days, where Jake felt like he was so in the dark, that he would never see the light. That was, until his kids came around.

Jake’s eyes shifted to his kids, who all sat in the front row, their partners and children sitting behind them, “Your mother was perfect. In every single thing she did. She was perfect. She would lie and say ‘I’m not perfect’, but she was. There will never, ever, be another person like her. And I’m so lucky that she took a chance on me. Even when I messed it all up, she still took a chance on me. There’s going to be a hole in my heart, for the rest of my life.”

When the funeral was over, the family had a small, private burial. Jake picked a plot that was near Nick Bradshaw, Maverick and Iceman’s plots. Y/N only knew two of the three men, but it still felt right burying her near there. It felt like family, it felt familiar, it felt like the right pieces to the puzzle, putting her there. Each of the five seresin kids sprinkled a bit of dirt on the dark mahogany casket, as it was lowered into the ground. Ella had tried to get her dad to leave, but Jake wanted to stay until the very last moment.

“Dad,” Ella said softly, placing her hand on his bicep as the groundskeeper started to lower the vault lid, “Come on, Aunt Bea and Uncle Bob are hosting the luncheon.”

Jake shook his head, “I can’t leave her here like this.” Jake hated thinking about it, but he wanted to make sure that Y/N’s body was left alone, that she was buried and entered in peace, not having been tampered with. Ella frowned at her dad, leaving his side and getting into her car, her feet aching in her dress shoes. Once the dirt had been packed on top of the grave, Jake turned and got into his daughter’s car.

He was thankful that Bob and Bea decided to host the after funeral meal at their house and not his own. Jake had stayed for a little bit, catching up with old coworkers and friends. He didn’t really have much to say to them, other than he was thankful that they came to the funeral. Jake never realized the amount of people that Y/N had met over the years or had created some impact on. People from Lemoore, Pensacola, Hawai��i, and even from overseas had flown in when they heard what had happened.

“I’m going to go home,” Jake said to Alex, whose arm was wrapped around his heavily pregnant wife. It was like deja vu, watching Alex and Piper interact.

“Okay,” Alex nodded, “Do you need me to drive you?”

“No,” Jake shook his head, looking around at the people at the table. It was truly like a blast from the past. All at the table sat a kid from every dagger squad member; Alex Seresin, Stella Machado, Cash Bradshaw, Piper Trace, Josephine Floyd, Mickey Jr Garcia, and Jordan Fitch. It filled Jake’s heart with joy, knowing that the next generation was as close as he is to his friends.

“Ella said I can take her car,” Jake said, “Stay here with them. You guys don’t see each other enough anymore.”

Alex nodded, looking back at the group of kids he grew up with, “Yeah. We’ll be home soon to put Billie to bed.”

“Take your time,” Jake said, patting his son’s shoulder, before leaving.

It was only three weeks later that Alex found himself pulling up to his parents house. The same familiar feeling of dread filling his body as he put his car in park and grabbed his duffle bag out of the back. Ella, of course, was already there, trying to make the best of a sad situation. Just as before, the house felt cold and unwelcoming as Alex kicked his shoes off, by his sister’s misplaced ones.

“Ella?” Alex called out.

“In here!” She called back from the kitchen. Alex stopped in the doorway, giving his sister a sad smile, “Didn’t think we’d all be back so soon.”

“Neither did I,” Alex sighed and wrapped his sister up in a tight hug.

It was a lie, Alex knew the last time he saw his dad, that it wasn’t going to be a long time until they were all called back here. Alex felt a tad guilty, the morning that he left, with a box full of stuff from the house, his wife and child in tow, watching his dad’s retreating figure out the rearview window. He wished he would have stayed. He wished that he would have convinced Jake to come up to Lemoore with him. To get some time away from the house, away from the memory of the love he had lost. Jake was stubborn, giving his son the promise to visit soon for the birth of his next grandbaby. But instead, Alex got another tearful call from his sister, begging him to come back home.

“He said he couldn't live without her.”

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messylustt · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can I request Miguel O’Hara x civilian reader. Where reader is Miguel’s dead wife and Gabriella’s mom and Miguel travels to another universe on a Mission and she mistakes him for her Miguel. And he’s just so out of it because he misses her sm.

my heart my HEART

݁ 𓂃 ៸៸៸ copied desire — miguel o’hara + reader: you aren’t miguel’s dead wife but he can’t let you go.

contents : yandere behavior; non purposeful cheating?? (like just a kiss). wc 1.0k.

pt one pt two

“i’ve got it.” miguel says, bypassing jess to slip through the window. they were chasing down an anomaly, undercover in simple clothes of this universe, and as jess left to scout the other buildings, miguel found his way inside a rather nicely furnished apartment.

he tried to stay quiet, knowing that there could only be civilians here and the anomaly could be elsewhere. but as he walked down the hall, his foot stopped on something partially imbedded in the carpet. looking down he found a small lego piece and then he heard a voice.

“yeah…no, i’m not sure…mhm.” it sounded as though someone was talking on the phone, and as miguel trained into listening he froze, hearing the tone and softness he never thought he’d hear again.

you chuckle, walking out into the hallway, and when you see miguel you jump, placing your hand over your heart. you had just ended the call. “christ, miguel…i thought…i thought you weren’t coming home until later?”

miguel can only stare. you’re supposed to be dead. you…are dead. his gaze gets caught up in your details, his eyes impossibly softening as he takes note of you and your entirety. you looked beautiful.

and then you’re walking closer and before miguel can react you lean up and place a gentle kiss to his cheek, your hand coming out to place atop his bicep.

he meets your gaze and you smile. and miguel’s mind falters. “come on, i made some lunch for me…but i guess you can have some too.” you teasingly chuckle, beginning to walk away when miguel—without his minds permission—reaches out for, pulling you back as he can’t help but press his lips against yours.

is this a dream? miguel thinks it must be. because you shouldn’t be in his arms right now. but he can’t help but move his head against yours. you, of course, kiss back, thinking it’s your miguel. the one from this universe. with the ‘undercover’ clothes he looks the same.

you slightly break away from miguel, your smile still present. “rough day?” you ask with a tilt to your head. his hand comes out to touch your face, dragging down to your lips, as he just nods. that’s all he can do.

because this is wrong. you aren’t his. his version of you is dead. but oh you look so alike, so…similar. even with the way you’re head is tilting in a smile. it’s all too much for miguel.

“real rough.” he mutters before his hand is slipping to the back of your neck and pulling you back in. you tasted sweet, just as sweet as he remembered. and now he can’t back away, because you’re kissing him back, your hand is shifting to slip around his arm.

“the food’ll get cold.” you whisper against his lips. and miguel is still breathing hard, practically dazed. but then he hears the turn off keys, and remembers you aren’t his. miguel knows that it’s this universes version of him. you’re that miguel’s wife.

but miguel’s chest is beginning to heave at the thought of you leaving him again. he didn’t want you to leave. no. his grip slipped to your chin, pulling your head back to him as you had glanced to the door, confused.

no one else had a key besides miguel. your miguel. you had heard him mention details from his work, him working at alchimax as a scientist. you had heard of the new project and it’s risks. briefly of course, majority of it confidential.

but you caught things such as ‘other universes’, and ‘carbon copies’. and then it clicked, as you meet the gaze of the miguel who is holding you still. miguel can see the clogs turning in your brain. and he has the urge to shake his head. this becoming over far too soon.

he means you no harm, even if his grip on your chin is tightening, as he watches you realise. your mouth falls open, as you go to step back. “you’re not….”

but miguel can’t seem to let you go, bringing you back to him as he shakes his head. “no, please don’t…”

“no, get off me.” you struggle to get away. now you know. this isn’t your miguel.

“hey, hey.” miguel grabs your face, continuously shaking his head. he felt like something was getting ripped away. his heart, maybe? “it’s me.”

you shake your head. “no you’re…not miguel. not my miguel.”

“but…you’re…” he can’t get the words out because your gaze isn’t soft anymore, you aren’t looking at him with love. and you’re slightly confused as to why miguel still has an expression expressing that he does feel that—love.

you shake your head, grabbing his hands on your face, in preparation to remove them. “i’m not your version of me. you know that right?” because you had guessed that there was also a carbon copy of you back in his universe, and maybe he got confused.

but miguel is still shaking his head, bringing you closer to him. the front door has now been opened and closed as the voice of your universe’s miguel reaches both yours and miguel’s ears. “mi amor, sorry i’m home a bit earlier than planned.”

now, all miguel can see is red. he knew you weren’t his version of you, but upon hearing this other version of him calling you ‘mi amor’, part of him wanted to change that. you could love him, right? you love that version of him, loving another won’t be too difficult.

but no matter what made up reason miguel can say to himself, even he knows how fucked up this is. He shouldn’t even be thinking about it. to instead leave you be to live your own life. he wasn’t meant to meet you.

but as your miguel’s steps draw near, and as you go to call for him, miguel places a cloth over your mouth. this makes your eyes widen as you shake your head, your eyelids beginning to droop. the cloth was meant for emergencies. i’m sure this can count as one. “shh…” miguel whispers, his lips brushing your forehead, as you drop in his arms. “no…” you quietly mutter out.

“it’s okay…you’re okay…you’re okay.” miguel mutters. “you’re with me now…you’re gonna be fine…you are fine…god you’re okay…” miguel had continued muttering anything as his lips brushed your skin your eyes now closed. “you’re all…mine again…”

#. ( spidey mark )#miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel fucking o’hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara angst #yandere #yandere!miguel #yandere!miguel o’hara

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bubblebaththoughts · 1 year ago

Text

Scenting

Neytiri x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader (minimal Jake x Reader x Neytiri)

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI, claiming, protective!Alpha!Neytiri, clueless!omega!reader, himbo-type!alpha!Jake, P in V, A/B/O dynamic, threesome/throuple. The kids are in this but very briefly (mainly Lo’ak.) and they are aged way down. (Lo’ak is 5, Neteyam and Kiri are 6)

Translation:

Sa’nok - Mom (Neytiri)

Sa’nu - Mommy (Reader)

Muntxate - Wife/Female spouse

Jake was fucking into you relentlessly, all while Neytiri laid your head in her lap, pushing your sweaty baby hairs off of your forehead.

“I’m sorry!” You gasped out

“Oh you’re sorry?” Neytiri scoffed “Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

You could only whine, Jake smirked down at you. Everything was overwhelming, you could smell both of them, they surrounded you. Not to mention Jake’s overly sized cock fucking your brains out.

“Aw, you gonna cum again?” Jake asked, beginning to quicken his pace, making your head lean farther into Neytiri’s lap

“Ah! I can’t!” You whine, almost thrashing against him “it’s too much!”

“Don’t fight it now.” Neytiri berated as she straightened you out, making you look at Jake as he fucked you

Jake moves with purpose, thrusting deep and hard, driving your pleasure higher and higher. Neytiri continues to scold you, her words like a whip that makes you moan even louder with each stroke.

He pushes you closer and closer to the edge, and you can’t help but to cry out in pleasure. You feel your whole body quivering with pleasure as you reach the peak. You collapse against Neytiri, exhausted, your body still tingling with pleasure. Neytiri releases you from her grip, her face still stern and unyielding. You lay there, spent and overstimulated.

“I should let him get you pregnant…” Neytiri chided “Then there would be know doubt of you belonging to us.”

You whined, trying to push away from Jake’s unruly thrusts.

“Oh you don’t like that? Maybe you shouldn’t flirt with other men of the clan and we wouldn’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” You whine

“Neytiri, give her a break.” Jake tilted his head, slowing his thrusts down.

Neytiri’s eyes snapped up to him, then back down to you. Her eyes softened just a bit. “Whatever you say.” She scoffed

Jake continued his thrusts until he was about to cum, which he then pulled out and released on your stomach.

Neytiri then pulled you up, sitting you in her lap. She began to nuzzle her head into your neck and shoulder, silently marking you as hers.

Jake had gotten up, getting a cloth to wipe his cum off of you.

“Thank you.” You sleepily sighed against Neytiri’s skin.

You were left alone the next morning, woken up by Jake with a kiss to your forehead and Neytiri was already gone.

All that you could smell was Jake and Neytiri.

Her sweet smell engulfed you, and his muskier smell comforted you.

Jake hadn’t cleaned up very well, his sticky cum still painted your thighs.

You thought about Neytiri’s words. Her threats of pregnancy… You felt yourself throb at the thought of Jake getting you pregnant. The thought is wiped away with Jakes cum, on a clean cloth.

You pull on your loincloth and adjust your top once again.

“Agh! Get off Neteyam! Sa’nok!” Lo’ak screeched from outside, they’d been up earlier than anyone else.

Lo’ak screamed for Neytiri, but she never intervened or said anything. You thought that she had left to attend other duties, but either way she seemed occupied right now.

Suddenly Lo’ak runs into your shelter that you shared with Jake and Neytiri. “Sa’nok! Neteyam was- Sa’nu?”

Your eyebrow raised at him. “What is it Lo’ak?”

“Sa’nu… I thought… I thought Sa’nok was in here…” Lo’ak looked around, his plan to snitch on Neteyam was foiled. “I smelled her…” He mumbled but you didn’t acknowledge the low spoken words.

“Sa’nu!” Lo’ak remembered that he could snitch to you as well “Neteyam was pushing me around! He sat on my head!” He whined to you, his little arms wrapped around you, seeking comfort

“Oh, come here my little Lo’ak.” You reach down to him, hugging him tightly in your arms

You sink down on to ground to speak to him on his level. “What else did mean ol’ Neteyam do?”

Lo’ak’s lip quivered as he held his arm out for you, a scrape on his elbow. “When he pushed me, my arm dragged on the ground.”

You frown at him, “It’s okay, Lo’ak.” You lean down, giving his small scrape a kiss

His hugs you around the waist again, Lo’ak was always a snuggly one.

“Sa’nu…” Lo’ak whispered to you

“Yes my little baby?” You answered, your hand gently petting his head

“Neteyam… he was also making fun of me because…” He hesitated, looking up at you to meet your eyes

“What? What did he say?” You asked, concern clouded your eyes

“He said that you were having a baby and that- that I was going to stop being your favorite.” Lo’ak cried to you as he buried his head in your stomach again

“Oh that’s not true.” You reassured him

“But I want a little sibling!” He whined “I want a brother, because I think Neteyam is broken! But I want to be your favorite!”

You laughed, hoisting him up to sit in your lap. “Lo’ak, nothing could ever push you out of the spot you have in my heart. If I did have a baby, you’d still always be my special boy, alright?”

Lo’ak smiled and nodded, hugging you once more before running back outside to play with Neteyam and Kiri again. You followed him out, finding Neteyam with his head pushed to the ground, and Kiri held his little hands behind his back while Lo’ak stood back with you in shock.

“Kiri! Get off of him!” You called to her, making her little determined face drop. She let Neteyam go, and he scrambled over to you.

“Sa’nu!!! Kiri hurt me!” Neteyam whined up to you

“Sa’nu!!! Neteyam broke my banshee!” Kiri also whined as she brought you the broken toy

“I didn’t mean to!” He cried back

“Stop!” You calmed them both. “If you three can’t behave together, I’m going to separate you and put each of you on opposite corners of the forest!”

“No!” All three cried at you

“Then behave!” You warned

Neteyam clung to you as Kiri and Lo’ak stalked away.

“You’re causing so much trouble this morning, Teyam. What is the matter?” You kneel down to him

“I don’t know…” Neteyam shrugged “I didn’t mean to.”

“If you say so…” You sigh, “Go play, be nice!”

Without you noticing, Jake had come back. He snuck up behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, taking you completely by surprise.

“Such a good mother…” He muttered in your ear softly

“Mmm.” You grinned leaning back into him “You know I love our children.”

“I know, I know.” He kissed your neck. “You love the babies.”

You giggle as his hands venture to your hips.

“Should’ve let me put one in ya last night.” He nipped at your ear

“You’ve been talking to Neytiri about that too much.” You grumbled

Neytiri came back soon after that, the handle of her knife had unwound and she came back to fix it.

“I need to head up Kreyo’s.” You spoke to her

Neytiri and Jake shared a knowing look, making you scoff.

“What?” You ask, exasperated

“I don’t trust Kreyo,” Neytiri crossed her arms “Not as far as I can throw him.”

“Neytiri…” You begin, but you were cut off just as quickly

“What is the reason for this visit?” She asked, circling you as if you were her prey

“Neteyam broke Kiri’s banshee. And Kreyo made their banshee’s, remember?” You explained, retrieving the broken toy

“You spoil them.” Neytiri waved you off “She doesn’t need a new one, give her Neteyam’s, it is his fault hers was broken, so he should give her his.”

“I’m not getting her a new one, I’m getting hers fixed.” You gestured to the broken thing, “I’m not going to punish Neteyam for an accident, Neytiri.”

“I’m coming with you.” Neytiri declared

You shrugged, already turning around to continue your walk up to Kreyo’s

“I got the kids!” Jake grinned, practically running off like a he was a little kid as well.

The walk started off silent, but you could practically feel the anger radiating off of Neytiri.

“I could’ve fixed the toy, you know. There’s no need to go out of your way to go to Kreyo of all people.” Neytiri seethed

“I don’t understand why you are so upset.” You sigh

“You know I don’t trust Kreyo!” She growled

“I know! Why can’t you trust me?” You growled back

Neytiri was taken aback, stopping deaf in her tracks.

“I do trust you.” She scowled, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neytiri-“

“And I don’t like him, I don’t know why.” She snapped “You should trust my judgment.”

“You don’t like or trust anyone.” You scoffed

“Muntxate.” She sighed “Why is this toy a problem for you? I can fix it.”

“You know what Neytiri, never mind, I won’t go to get our daughter’s toy fixed, you can deal with it, I don’t care.” You shove the broken toy at her

She lets it fall to the ground, just simply staring at it.

“Muntxate.” Neytiri sighed softly once again “I am sorry.”

You feel as if your eyes are welling up, stepping towards her. “I’m sorry too…”

“Come here.” She held her arms out for you

Neytiri was overwhelming, her arms wrapped around you tightly. She patted your head down into her neck, still apologizing, you knew what she was doing, but you didn’t care at this point.

She lets you go, picking up Kiri’s toy and handing it to you.

“You should go get the toy fixed, I will see you at home.”

She turns, stalking away. You sigh, knowing she purposefully did that to rub her scent on you.

The visit to Kreyo mainly consisted of silence as he fixed up the toy, his nose twitching in your direction every so often.

“Are you with child?” He randomly sputtered out

“Excuse me?” Your looked at him, a small fire beginning to burn

“You just- don’t smell like yourself.” He shook his head “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to assume.”

The rest of the time was an awkward silence, he handed you the now fixed toy and waved you off.

You could practically smell Neytiri on yourself, you were like a walking cloud of her pheromones. Only now realizing that Neytiri rubbed off on you last night as well, which is probably why Lo’ak mistook you for her, her smell so strongly on you confused him.

But, Kiri was happy to have her banshee back.

Every thing was going pretty well until you heard a small whistle. You turned in the direction of the whistle, finding jake there. He calls you over with a simple nod to his head.

Fuck, here we go again.

964 notes · View notes

alottiegoingon · 5 months ago

Text

hc! beecoming three

lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: the one where you are pregnant and lottie loves to take care of you

warnings: endless amount of fluff it might make you throw up, established relationship, lottie and reader live together, characters are aged up, lottie being protective and an angel, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, not proofread

@l0tt1emy i hope you like this bby

𓆦 ever since you told lottie that she was going to be a mom, she became the happiest woman to ever live

𓆦 it’s not like neither of you weren’t expecting it to happen and had spent lots of money so you could finally be moms, but it was a pleasant surprise

𓆦 except for the fact that lottie’s life only purpose was to take care of you now and it was starting to concern you

𓆦 “baby, just come to bed,” you pout, tapping the empty space on your side as you begged her to join you

𓆦 after dinner, lottie had spent hours fixing the smallest details ever on the baby’s bedroom and organizing a huge bag with itens that could be needed for when you two had to rush to the hospital

𓆦 “but we need to be ready! what if the baby decides to come earlier?” she stops by the door holding diapers, with messy hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and looking exactly like 🥺

𓆦 “lott, the baby is six weeks old”

𓆦 lottie would always wake up early to make you breakfast, trying her best to make it healthy and nutritious for you and the baby. at some days, it was still dark outside when you tattered for her in bed but she wasn’t there because she got up at like 5am to get ingredients for meals

𓆦 when you decided to wake up earlier than usual after noticing her absence, you walk on your tiptoes to the kitchen just to find her mixing the ingredients for pancakes in a bowl

𓆦 quietly, you stop behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, briefly giving her cheek a tender kiss and resting your chin on her shoulder. “good morning, love”

𓆦 lottie wasn’t expecting you to be up so early and immediately flinched at your touch, making you two share a good laugh. she looks back at you and kisses your forehead

𓆦 “what are you doing here so early? are you alright? feeling sick? too cold?” she drops everything she’s doing to fully pay attention to you and make sure you are feeling 100% okay, inspecting every inch of your body and even hair

𓆦 “i’m fine,” you say, grabbing lottie’s anxious hands to hold them firmly in order to calm her nerves, “i just missed you. it’s so early, you should be in bed.”

𓆦 “i’m sorry,” lottie, now less anxious, nods and let go of your hands to gently place her warm touch on your stomach and slowly rub her fingers in a caress

𓆦 “i know i’m exaggerating but i just want everything to be okay,” she pouts and you felt the sudden urge to just squeeze her 😫

𓆦 “everything is fine, lottie. everything will be okay thanks to you,” you smile at her, getting closer to cup her cheeks and smooch her entire face

𓆦 eventually, she got less nervous about everything, not worrying or overthinking the small details too much. that doesn’t mean that she was any less eager to please you

𓆦 a few weeks later, you were in bed and it was past midnight when you couldn’t sleep, craving some ice cream. you didn’t want to wake up lottie and make her leave just to get you stupid ice cream but you would die for it at this point!

𓆦 “do you think the market is open now?” you whisper, turning your head to face lottie. it was almost instantly. the second she connected the words ‘market’ and ‘now’ her eyes fluttered open and she was already getting out of bed

𓆦 “i’m on my way, baby! what do you want?” she doesn’t even change clothes, just put a sweatshirt on top of her pajamas and heads out when she got all the information she needed

𓆦 thirty minutes later, lottie called you from the kitchen and the first thing you see when you get there is the counter covered in lots of ice cream with different flavors and a bunch of sweets and chips as well

𓆦 “oh my god,” you gasp, eyes wide open at the scary amount of food

𓆦 “i wasn’t sure if you liked vanilla so i decided to get others as well,” she explained with a super proud smile, “and some other stuff too cause i don’t want you to be hungry”

𓆦 before feasting on a full carton of ice cream, you were pretty sure that lottie almost ran out of breath thanks to your endless kisses and tight hugs

𓆦 singing to the baby was her thing. lazy sundays would be followed by lottie’s soothing voice singing the most beautiful songs ever and, sometimes, songs she wrote herself

𓆦 not only could she sing but she could spend hours speaking to your belly. telling the baby stories from your teenage years or gossiping about aunties taissa and van, reading stories or just being an adorable goofball, lottie was always near

𓆦 sitting on bed, lottie was lying on your side, elbows against the mattress for support and face inches away from your small bump

𓆦 “fuck!” she gasps, quickly withdrawing her hand from you as she feels the baby kicking into her touch. she was freaking out!

𓆦 “wait, sorry, i meant to say duck! please don’t repeat that,” she talks to the baby, hurrying to get closer again and place her entire palm on you, smiling incredibly big

𓆦 “i think the baby likes your voice, lott,” you whisper, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear, keeping your fingers in there to rub her scalp

𓆦 “you think so?” she lift her head up to meet your gaze and she’s adorable. her face lights up like a fucking christmas tree ☹️

𓆦 lottie was having the time of her life any time she had to go out with you to shop baby clothes, accessories for the nursery or, really, anything related to you and your child. decorating the nursery was also her favorite activity

𓆦 she would buy thousands of plushies and cute blankets, millions of colorful books and lots of toys even though the baby wasn’t due for another five months

𓆦 “you won’t believe what i got for our baby!” is the first thing she says as she opens the door, running towards the couch where you were in with a box

𓆦 she lets you open and it’s a TINY SHIRT OF THE YELLOWJACKETS TEAM WITH THE NUMBER ZERO ON IT 😔

𓆦 when it became impossible for you to sleep, always sick, irritated, swollen or just exhausted, lottie would stick to your side and would try her best to not fall asleep

𓆦 “i’m not sleepy, i promise. go on, finish that story,” she murmurs with a tired and raspy voice in the pitch black of the bedroom. you couldn’t see her properly but you felt comfortable with your head resting on her shoulder and her hand around your body

𓆦 “so, jackie was telling me that shauna told her that mari once said that she found a recipe for a soup that included boiling a belt!” the tiny remains of any sleep you had inside you vanished as you were gossiping with your girlfriend

𓆦 “can you believe that? and who would ever eat a boiled belt for dinner? people are so crazy nowadays and i-“ you abruptly stop, shifting positions to look up at lottie snoring

𓆦 “oh, you’re sleeping,” you whisper, tightening your lips to suppress a giggle

𓆦 lottie was worried 24/7 but also extremely protective. even if it was extremely hot outside, she would beg you to carry a jacket with you

𓆦 she thought about bringing a spare jacket for you and carry it around just in case you got cold but she really wanted to give you her jacket cause pooks is just a hopeless romantic angel 🤗

𓆦 lottie was very gentle and careful all the time, but when it came to sex, you could practically beg her to do you and she would still be so hesitant

𓆦 not even when giving her very obvious hints like whining on her ear all day long about how needy you were, letting innocent touches linger or putting on a nice lingerie would be enough to convince her. lottie was too worried with the idea of accidentally hurting you

𓆦 just when lottie was much more used to the daily routine of living with her pregnant girlfriend, you wake her up in the middle of the night, poking her shoulder. “lottie? wake up.”

𓆦 taking all the time in the world to turn the small lamp on, lottie knows that everything is fine. you probably just wanted her to get you something to eat or a drink. the lamp on

𓆦 “want some water, love?” she asks, half asleep, rubbing her eyes that were still adjusting to the light

𓆦 “no, i’m okay. but i think the baby is coming,” you whisper, trying not to panic and to not make your girlfriend panic. the baby was early by four weeks!

𓆦 lottie’s sleepy expression and drowsy eyes quickly fade away as she bolts out of the bed, hitting her knee against the bed frame on her way to you

𓆦 “i told you we should have packed the things for the hospital before!!!”

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader

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yellowharrington · 9 months ago

Text

sugar sweet -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: brief mention of body image issues (not towards reader) and suicide (mikey's death), eating dessert and a lot of food talk, gn!reader (but mention of wearing heels), use of y/n briefly in texts. reader is mentioned as an accountant or adjacent professional person and smoking is mentioned (reader and carmy). please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: hey team !! i hope y'all enjoy this fluffy little blorbo about carmy's birthday bc i needed to write about being soft to him. this is an old wip i finally finished so pls rb and leave feedback and comments ily

summary: it's carmy's birthday and you want to make it special for him again.

-`♡´-

It’s not that Carmy doesn’t like his birthday.

No, it’s not that.

It’s just that he’s never had a good one.

When he was 9, his mom tried to make him a birthday cake. French vanilla, with buttercream icing, multicoloured sprinkles on top. But she had somehow managed to get so frustrated that she had thrown the whisk across the kitchen, the burnt cake thrown in the sink, and taken to the backyard for her millionth cigarette of the day. She was breaking down, as usual, and Carmy was the one that had to go out and rub her back and tell her it was fine. That he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday.

When he was 13, he ended up spending the afternoon consoling Natalie in her bedroom, after his mom had again, made a backhanded comment about her body. That yeah, she’d gained weight in her midsection, and yeah, the stress was showing on her hips. She was sobbing into her pillows, clutching her pink sheets and wailing, leaving Carmy with nothing to do but kiss her on the cheek and leave her alone. He assured her, again, that he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday.

And when he’s 24 and scrubbing the floors of The Beef at midnight, sweat dripping down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt. Michael had just died, so yeah, it was a little raw. The fluorescent lights were beating down on his back as he dumped hot soapy water on the floor and scrubbed everything away. Scrubbed away his memories, every Christmas with his brother, every screaming match. He let it all go down the drain. He’s assured himself that he’s fine, he didn’t matter, and no, Michael’s fucking suicide would not ruin his birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

He meets you later that year. Sitting in the park, doing a crossword at 7:00am, your BEC and hot coffee cooling off on the bench beside you. You’re obviously a professional of some kind: tight black slacks and a matching blazer, white dress shirt stretched over your torso, hair pristinely styled. Black heels, he notices, that you’ll switch out in the middle of the day because they squeeze your toes.

When he sits beside you, you don’t pay him any mind. He’s disheveled, sandy curls pushed back on his head, a grey crewneck sweater over a white t-shirt, collar peaking through at the neck. He sets his identical breakfast next to yours, taking out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips. You look over when he flicks his lighter, a soft exhale leaving his nose. “Oh, sorry,” he takes the cigarette from his lips and wafts the smoke away. “I forgot not everyone in this city smokes.”

You smiled tightly, nodding, letting yourself relax onto the back of the bench. “I don’t mind.” He nodded back to you, letting his hand rest on his knee as he took another drag. “Anything worth reading in there today?” He gestures to the newspaper balanced on your knee. You look at him again, shrugging your shoulders, only to tap your pen against the side of your leg. “No, there never is. I just do the crosswords. You wouldn’t happen to know a 4 letter word for ‘kitchen second in command’, would you?”

He laughs a little, taking another slow drag. “Sous?” You look down at the newspaper, penning in the small boxes, sitting back to smile at him. “Thank you,” you raise your coffee cup to him. “‘m a chef, over at The Beef in River North,” he has a mouthful of his sandwich now, as he points in the general direction of the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, I think you guys catered one of our events one time. It’s like, sandwiches and stuff, right?” He nods, taking a sip of coffee. You follow after him, letting the hot coffee touch your lips.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I, uh, just took it over. It’s kind of a shit show right now but we’re tryna fix it.” You unwrap the sandwich and sink your teeth into the soft bagel, covering your mouth before beginning to speak. “What happened to the guy who used to own it? Did you just buy it off of him, or what?”

“He died,” he says, deadpan, letting the cigarette come between his lips again. “He was my brother and uh, yeah - he died.” You nod at your own embarrassment, at the thought of asking a random stranger about his dead brother by accident. “Oh, I didn’t-uh, God - sorry,” you stammer, letting yourself turn towards him. “It’s fine,” he waves the smoke away again. “It’s not a big deal.” You almost laugh at his demeanour, so nonchalant. You pull a cardholder out of your blazer pocket, the small clasp opening. Cream cardstock, black writing - a business card, handing it over to him, but not before scribbling your personal number on the back. “If you need anything, accounting related or otherwise, call me.” He takes it and looks for a second, raising his eyebrow at the pristine card. “I can’t afford you,” he laughs. “No charge. Thanks for the help on the crossword…” you wait expectantly for a name. “Oh, Carmen. Carmy,” he finishes. “Nice to meet you.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It had been a few months since your first meeting. Now, you chose to spend almost every Sunday with him - his one day off. He’d usually make you breakfast, sometimes an omelette with gouda cheese and chives, or fluffy pancakes with a berry compote and homemade whipped cream. For a man that cooked all day, every day, he certainly didn’t mind making any meals for you, especially when you woke up next to him in his old t-shirt and nothing underneath.

You’d known Carmy for long enough now to have pieced together the whole story - a few nights here and there coming around The Beef after closing had granted you the pleasure of meeting Richie, who Carmy affectionately called Cousin. “He’s a little fucked up,” Richie had told you behind the slightly ajar door of the office, as you sat and waited for Carm to finish up. “With Mikey and everything. He won’t let ‘ya know, but he is. I’m happy he’s got somebody,” he looks back at the kitchen, the usual pots and pans clanging behind him. “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s his birthday on Sunday,” Richie gets closer to you, his hand coming closer. “Back up Richie,” “Sorry. Force of habit. Do not tell him I told you. Take it to your grave. He likes red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing like a little bitch boy, they’re his favourite, alright?” You nod, looking to see if he was anywhere near. “Heard.”

You catch Marcus on the way out while Carmy fucks with something else in the kitchen. “Hey, Marcus,” you grab his arm, right before he’s about to put a headphone in and start on his way home. “Hey, what’s good?” “I need a red velvet cake recipe. And a cream cheese icing recipe. And a walk through of how to bake a batch of cupcakes. Please.” He nodded slightly, looking down at his phone. “I’ll text you what I’ve got. Is it a special occasion?” You look over at Carmy, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, uh, it is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Marcus had let you borrow a few cupcake pans and a package of liners, as well as his KitchenAid stand mixer for the batter. You’d gathered all of the ingredients from the recipe he’d given you, set everything up in your tiny apartment kitchen on the Saturday before Carmy’s birthday, furiously mixing wets and drys in different bowls, sifting flour and separating egg whites from yolks. The cigarette was taught between your lips, tank top strap falling off your shoulder as you slowly began to mix the batter together.

[Carmen] 11:18pm

Hey

How are you baby?

Just finishing up here

You flicked the cigarette ash onto the fire escape as you nodded your head in rhythm with the song on the speaker, letting the batter mix in the background as you started to sift the powdered sugar into the clean bowl. You weren’t even looking at the time until you heard the familiar chime of your phone, sticky floury hands grabbing your cell phone to see the text from Carmy.

“Shit, fuck,” you turned the mixer off, putting the remnants of your cigarette out in the sink.

[(Y/N) personal] 11:26pm

Hey, just busy right now

Will text in a bit

Love you

When Carmy reads the text he’s a little… surprised to say the least. For you to have plans on a Saturday night was not unheard of by any means, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Anxiety creeped up a little, because what could you be doing at 11:30pm?

[Carmen] 11:27pm

Love you too

You ok?

[(Y/N) personal] 11:27pm

Of course

Come over when you’re done

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he continues to wipe down the stainless steel counter in front of him, nearly spotless already. Most of the other crew has gone home, save for Marcus in his station proofing his donuts for tomorrow and Richie texting someone at the expo line. He slips his phone in the pocket under his apron, undoing the knot on the back and dropping it in the hamper by the back door. “You guys can lock up, yeah?” Carmy calls, seeing Marcus nod at him and bid him goodnight with a small wave. “Heard,” Richie calls. “‘Night, cousin.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Carmy had called a few times, your phone ringing and ringing, but the chaotic kitchen had forced you to miss the calls. It was past midnight now, and you’d spent your whole day in the kitchen, the night getting away from you way quicker than you had intended. You had a small box in your bedside table, a thin gold chain you hadn’t wrapped for him yet, and your apartment was a fucking mess. Pans and bowls strewn across every surface, flour on the floors and walls, and somehow, and you had cream cheese icing under your fingernails. It was a bit of a mess.

When the icing was done, you managed to squeeze some on the tops of the cupcakes just in time to hear the lock on your door click. You stood, silently, as you heard Carmy quietly kick off his boots. He thought you might be sleeping.

Ha, far from it.

“Babe?”

When he rounded the corner, it was a sight to see for sure. Your hands twisted around a makeshift pastry bag, which was really a ZipLoc with a hole cut in the bottom. Apron tied in a bow around your waist, only accentuating the curves of your body. Carmy drinks you in.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Baking.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

He stepped forward tentatively, an amused smile on his face. His hand reached to the small of your back, a kiss adorning your cheek.

“Why are you baking?” He takes a finger to the end of the bag, sticking it in his mouth and marvelling at the taste. “Why are you killing it at baking?”

You smiled. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyebrow cocked, noticing the desserts in front of him, really, for the first time since he stepped in the door.

“Fucking Richie,” his hand found his forehead. “Fucker.”

“Happy Birthday, Carm.” You let the bag of icing flop on the stovetop, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slotting them together to quiet the thoughts in his mind. You started to pepper kisses all over his face and neck, giggling between them, before he couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself.

“He told me they were your favourite, and I asked Marcus for a recipe and I haven’t tried one yet, even!” the words tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled you impossibly closer, swaying a little with you in his arms.

“Sorry. Richie told me not to make a dig deal, I just thought,” you shrugged, letting your hands slide down his biceps and tracing the faded tattoos there with your pointer finger. “I thought we could make it special again. If you want.”

The wild look in your eyes was enough to have him push forward again, lips crashing into lips, the amalgamation of all the tastes from his day on your tongue.

“Thank you.” He peers over your shoulder at the cupcakes, still in the tin, suddenly very interested in tasting the fruits of your labour.

“Should we try these?” His hand drops effortlessly to your waist, letting his body push past yours. He picks up a cupcake, handing one to you and ‘cheers’ing them playfully. He unwrapped the foil on the outside, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet dessert.

“Mmmh,” he moans, letting his eyes roll back into his head slightly. “Wow,” the red colour coats his teeth. “Yeah.”

You nod along with him, your own teeth sinking in. “Oh yeah, I kinda killed it with these.”

“Hm, wait,” you put the cupcake down, pushing past him. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath.

When you return, he’s licking the rest of the icing off of his fingers. The way his lips wrap around his fingers makes your breath hitch.

“Before you say anything, it’s just small, if you hate it you can return it, blah blah blah…” you trail off, but you can’t hide the excitement across your features.

He pulls open the clamshell box, the gold chain reflecting against the warm lights of the kitchen and dancing along the walls. His lips part slightly, forming an “o” shape, with surprise.

“You’re…” he seems genuinely speechless. Carmy usually isn’t a man of many words, anyway, but this was noticeably different.

“Do you like it?” Your bottom lip is folded under your teeth in anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet his.

“You’re perfect,” is all he can say, and you swear you can see his eyes get a little glassy.

“Aw, well, don’t get soft on me now,” you let your arms wrap around him once again, pulling him into a hug this time. Your head fits perfectly into his chest, smelling the distinct scent of his signature cologne, long now covered by the smells of the restaurant. Him.

His nose fits perfectly into the crook of your neck as he leans down, deepening the hug to pull you in impossibly close. His lips latch onto the soft spot beneath your ear, enraptured by your presence.

For the first time in his life, Carmy is actually going to have a good birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

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babygorewhore · 3 months ago

Text

•Headcannons for Cooper Adams•

Requested by anon!

These are my opinions and just from what I observed from the movie! I’ve seen it twice. So it’s okay if you disagree! But it’s just my opinion BE NICE!!!!!!!

These are both SFW and NSFW but the top half is not smut.

Warnings! Mentions of oral! Both receiving! Choking! Talks of masturbation! unprotected sex, bondage, Dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink briefly talked about but not in detail. Very very minimal mention of spitting. These aren’t really in order. Talks of his mother. Brief talk about if there was an age gap (most likely would be lol) Nothing graphic tbh. These are very generalized. I mean he’s a killer but I didn’t really dive into that. Mwah!

-Cooper would initially have reservations about dating someone younger than him. He’s middle aged and was married for a while (until she’s dead RIP)

-You immediately had a crush on him and he knew that. He’s a smart man. He knows how human beings work. He knows how to read people and their body language.

-But finally after weeks of tension, Cooper finally asks you to go out with him.

-I feel like Cooper is creative with dates. He would like the traditions, going to dinner but I also feel like because he’s so observant he would know exactly where to go.

-carnival, museum, park, cemetery, concert, Cooper would go wherever you want.

-Cooper would stalk you. No questions. He’d find all your social media, learn everything about you, but he wouldn’t reveal it. He’s an expert in pretending to be calm.

-He’s not completely without conscious or a heart. He does love his children. He’s capable of it. Cooper would frequently check on his kids while he’s with you.

-Cooper has OCD (Same) and I feel like a lot of that has to do with his mother. It was a way of coping with severe anxiety and intrusive thoughts. He does compulsions to soothe himself. He often fidgets.

-Speaking of his mother. Cooper had a complicated relationship with his mother. Obviously we weren’t told that much in the film but my guess would be that she neglected him. She saw signs in him that weren’t normal but instead of helping him, she either pulled away or punished him.

-Cooper wanted to please his mother. He wanted her approval so this carried into his adult years. He tends to avoid conflict when he can, as we saw with the other mom and why his family seemed so shocked by his outburst. Normally, Cooper shoves down his anger in front of people.

-But when he finally snaps, well, we all heard the horror of his crimes committed. Cooper has so much rage inside of him and he only allows it to come out on “special.” Occasions.

-Cooper probably loves his job as a fireman. I feel like he trains younger men who work there. I also hardcore believe he has saved many lives but he has that entitlement that he can also take it away when he wants. But when we saw him help that young girl, he automatically knew what medical care to give her. Again, he probably has kept people alive on the way to the ambulance.

-Okay Cooper is a fucking freak. Let’s not lie.

-I don’t think there’s much he isn’t into tbh. But I think one of the biggest kinks he has is utter dominance or corruption.

-Cooper loves to play the role of an average, easy going guy and silly guy but once that bedroom door closes? He has you bent over, arm around your throat and ass in the air.

-since he’s so big, he can easily overpower you and he enjoys this. Cooper loves to wrap a hand around your neck, controlling your breath as he thrusts into you.

-I feel like cooper, which would normally go against his need for cleanliness, he would love spitting. I’m not gonna go into a ton of detail but I feel like he would love to spit on your cunt, or drool into your mouth after eating you out.

-Speaking of oral…Cooper wouldn’t usually ask or expect it, I feel like one of the fastest ways to make him whimper is to suck his cock. His entire career is about other people so for someone to sink to their knees, wrap their lips around his dick and take their time to lick and suck…it would drive him crazy.

-While you give him head, Cooper tends to bob your head up and down or cup your jaw so he can feel it. He also goes inside if you slap his cock on your tongue before you take it.

-Cooper loves eating pussy. I’m talking, burying his entire face, he can’t hardly breathe but why does he need air? He pins your thighs down, spreading you as wide as possible as he fucking devours you. He humps the bed, moans and grunts from your sounds. Honestly, he eats you out for his pleasure too. Coming home, and just sinking his tongue in your pussy? He loves it.

-Cooper loves to tie you up. We all know this. He really appreciates it :) He ties your wrists in front of you. I don’t feel like he’d love it for himself though. Bonus points if he ties you up and then eats you out.

-Okay. Cooper loves to get marked up. He has a very very high tolerance for pain. He took being TAZED multiple times and was only down for a few minutes. Scratch his back, slap him, hell even bite him and leave marks. He fucking loves it. If you drag your nails down his bare back…he looks like a fucking animal.

-But Cooper also likes to be submissive. Hear me out. I don’t think I would classify him as a complete switch. But a Dom/switch leaning. Like 70 percent of the time he likes to have control, as he said. “I’m in control.” However, if you call him a good boy, play with his hair, praise him and give him kisses? He’s puddle in your hands. If you call him a sweet puppy though…he would let you walk him like a goddamn dog.

-Submissive cooper has a mommy kink in my opinion. He loves to worship your chest, play with your nipples. He wants your approval. He wants to know you’re proud of him.

-Cooper I feel like wouldn’t regularly…sext? I think if he was gone a while he would love an occasional sexy picture but I don’t think he wants to tell you what he wants to do. He wants to physically show you. But sometimes on a phone call, his breathy and deep voice saying “can’t wait to see you when I get home.” You know what he means.

-Cooper isn’t shy about PDA but I don’t think he’s over the top. I feel like he has an arm around you, or hand on your waist/hip or hold your hand. Kiss on the head. But I don’t think he’d be overboard. He’s extremely possessive though. Don’t let anyone else look at you…

-Cooper likes to have alone time. But for some reason I don’t feel like he jerks off a lot? I mean anything he’d want I’d be ass in the air, but you know what I mean? I don’t feel like he THINKS about it? Very rarely, he will jerk himself off in his fist. Thinking about you.

-Cooper is the master of dirty talk. He has the perfect balance of praise and degrading. “Fucking needy little slut huh? Mmmm, such an obedient little princess for me.”

-Cooper has more…old time nicknames for you. Sweetheart, honey, sugar, babydoll. Sometimes princess or baby girl. But primarily, I think sugar or honey.

-I feel like Cooper would have a firm pressure if he held you. He’d love to hold you on his lap, rub your back. If you rest your head on his chest, he doesn’t “play.” With your hair; but more so massages your scalp or neck.

-Cooper likes to read I think or listen to audiobooks. He’d love to listen to you talk about books to if you enjoyed reading. And he’d love recreating scenes from romance books you like …👀

-Cooper I think is a spanker. He smacks your ass as you’re walking away. Especially when you’re bent over. He’d spank it so hard it would be red. Or if you’re straddling him, he’d grip your ass. But I think he likes tits too. He’s not picky.

-Cooper doesn’t have a “type.” In my opinion. But I think personality wise, he likes nurturing and caring. Someone sweet. He can find beauty in everyone. If you’re goth like me, he’d love that too. But whatever makes you happy.

-Coopers love language towards you is gift giving and physical touch. He likes to give you things or special gifts. And he loves to touch you. I think physical touch and words of affirmation make him feel loved though. Things he didn’t get growing up.

-Last but not least, Cooper loves dad rock. (Me too) but I think he has a guilty pleasure for pop music.

If I forget anyone; I’m sorry! Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @lovalova444 @rosaleelovesdilfs @cryobabyy @stillwjk-channie-lixie @redhead1180 @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @rubyfruitjungle @dinbrowneyes @cellophane-wasp @cattt777 @horrorpiggy @oceanblvd111 @waywardtigersandwich @cherryinterlude @the-ghost-code @wildgirllz @redpillbluepill @velvrei @faelvz @sararuno

#Cooper Adams #cooper Adams smut #cooper adams x reader #cooper Adams trap #trap #trap 2024 #josh hartnett #Josh Hartnett cooper adams #Josh Hartnett smut #trap movie smut #trap movie #m night shyamalan #josh hartnett trap #Slasher #Slasher fics #slasher smut #slashers #slasher fanfiction

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loulovingho · 3 months ago

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The Dinner

This is going to end up being a 4 part series on Meeting the Parents, where each part can be read individually. You can read on ao3, or continue below.

It was a few months after the wedding before Margaret and Phillip could get back to Los Angeles for another visit. They arrived two days before Halloween, wanting to go around the neighborhood trick or treating with Jee. It was the first year she'd really understand the holiday, and they were excited to experience it with her.

On their first night in town, Tommy and Buck were coming over for dinner.

While Tommy had briefly met them at the wedding, it wasn't more than a handshake and a hello before Jee was pulling her grandparents in one direction, and Evan was pulling him in another.

And now Buck was playing with Jee in the living room while Tommy helped plate the rolls.

“How do you feel about officially meeting the Buckley parents, Thomas?” Chimney asked, leaning against the counter.

“I was fine until Evan woke me up with a powerpoint presentation on what to and not to do.”

Maddie, who was fiddling at the table, looked over at Buck. “He's joking, right?”

Buck shook his head. “You can never be too prepared.”

Maddie rolled her eyes before turning to Tommy, a smile on her face. “Don't worry about it, Tommy. They've mellowed a lot over the past few years. Not perfect, obviously, but better.”

“Is that why you've reset the table five times?” Chimney asked, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge.

“Hush.” She tilted her head, staring at the centerpiece before moving it slightly to the left. “Seriously, Tommy. You'll be fine.”

There was a knock, and Jee squealed as she jumped up and ran to the door.

Everyone trailed after her, Tommy moving to Buck's side.

After a prolonged hello to Jee, they greeted Maddie and Howie before moving on to Buck.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” he said, a hug for his mom and handshake for his dad. “You remember-”

“Thomas,” Tommy interrupted, holding out his hand to Margaret first. “Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.”

Buck but at his lip, trying to prevent himself from bursting into laughter. It was so interesting seeing Tommy like this. He was usually so calm, cool, and collected. His nerves very rarely appeared, so it was like a special treat when they did.

“Oh, come here,” Margaret said, bypassing his hand and wrapping him in a hug.

Tommy returned it, looking at Chimney with wide eyes.

Chimney himself looked surprised too, which felt like a good sign.

Once Margaret was finished, Phillip shook Tommy's hand. “Good to see you too, Thomas.”

They settled in and Tommy took what felt like the first breath since this morning. Maddie grinned at him with two thumbs up, which made him feel even more relaxed.

He'd never been so anxious to meet the parents of someone he was with before. Honestly, he'd only done it a couple of times. Once in high school, when he met the parents of the girl he took to prom. She ended up ditching him for her friends about halfway through the dance, so he never had to see them again.

Then there was Joey's parents. A guy he'd dated on and off after he first came out. They were... not a good match, but he just so happened to be at Joey's house when his mom showed up out of the blue. One awkward brunch later, he and Joey broke up for good a few minutes after she walked out the door.

Maybe that's why he was so nervous. The two times he'd met someone's parents, it ended in a breakup.

He couldn't think like that right now though.

Everything would be fine. He could do this.

*****

Dinner went surprisingly smooth. Most of the attention had been on Jee during dinner, but she got bored before dessert and headed into her bedroom to play.

That's when the questions started coming in.

“So, Thomas, Ev- Buck mentioned you also work for the fire department,” Margaret began, “but at a different station?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes, Ma'am. I'm a pilot at Harbor Station. It's about twenty minutes from the 118... or an hour with the traffic,” he added, getting a laugh from both Buckley parents.

“Dangerous job,” Phillip noted. “Rewarding though, I'm sure.”

“Oh, yes, Sir. Very rewarding.”

“So, you and Buck don't ever really get to see each other at work?” Margaret asked.

“Sometimes. I work ground ops every once in a while and we'll see each other. But when I am in the air, Evan likes to take pictures and send them to me,” he added, smiling over at Buck.

Margaret and Phillip shared a glance. Even out of the corner of Buck's eye, he could see his parents looking at one another. He knew they were silently discussing the fact that Tommy gets away with calling him by his given name. Something he'd steadfastly reminded them not to do.

He waited, heartbeat rising, for them to bring it up.

Instead, Margaret smiled. “So, how'd you two meet?”

"He flew us through a hurricane to rescue Cap and Athena."

"Buck." Maddie eyed him, a silent why would you say that?

He knew how protective his parents were. How they hated to think of him in danger. How saying something like that could cause tension between all of them, especially with Tommy.

Buck simply shrugged. "It's true."

"It's alright," Margaret reassured them. "Phillip and I are learning to come to terms with the fact that the job Buck has is a dangerous one. But life's a risk, right? We- We know you're taking every precaution to be safe."

Tommy reached out and rested his hand on Buck's thigh. "Yes," he agreed. "And technically we didn't fly through the hurricane, we flew through the outskirts of a hurricane."

"And Tommy's overly qualified," Chimney chimed in, for good measure. "That's why I asked him to take us. It's also why I claim to be matchmaker."

"Well, seeing as you're all in one piece," Phillip said, folding his hands on the table. "Why don't you tell us more about this helicopter-matchmaking adventure?"

The conversation continued for a while. It wasn't all focused on Tommy, thankfully. They went around the table swapping stories and sharing anecdotes. They never even batted an eye when Tommy moved his hand to Evan's back, rubbing softly. He did it almost unconsciously, nearly freezing up when he realized it. He had been told that the Buckley's weren't homophobic. But it was one thing to not care with other people, and another to not care with your own kid. However, their reaction, or lack thereof, was the final confirmation that Tommy needed to know everything was okay and they truly didn't mind.

*****

When it was time for Jee to head to bed, she demanded Uncle Tommy fly her to the room like a “helichopter” so, of course, he did. Then she demanded her mommy, daddy, and Uncle Buck read her a story together, so Tommy headed back out to the living room with the Buckley's to sit and chat.

“She calls you Uncle Tommy,” Margaret said, nearly beaming.

Tommy smiled. “Yeah, that started a couple months ago. I think she knows it's a surefire way to get me to say yes to whatever she asks. Evan jokes me about it all the time.”

“Okay, I have to ask-”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned.

She waved him off. “I'm just asking.” She leaned in close, almost like she was about to reveal some deep, dark secret.

Tommy sure hoped that wasn't it. He'd heard all about their last deep, dark secret.

“He lets you call him Evan. How'd you manage that?”

Tommy fought to hide his grin. “That's how he introduced himself when we met,” he explained. “Once I realized no one else ever called him that, I tried calling him Buck, but he gave me a funny look and told me to stick with Evan.”

Tommy knew Evan didn't hate his name. Knew others called him by it sometimes. He also knew that his parents calling him Buck was important to him. A way to show they were finally listening to what he wanted, and they were respecting him.

Tommy almost expected this to be where the trouble came in. Maybe this is where the Buckley's stuck up their nose and asked what made him so special? Evan had warned him about it during the presentation that morning.

They didn't do that though. Instead they looked... happy? Excited even.

“You a basketball fan?” Phillip asked, opting for a change of subject.

“Yes, Sir. Love it.”

“Professional or college?”

“I prefer professional, but I watch both.”

“I've been wanting to go to a game for years, but it's a little boring to go alone. We're coming back in a couple months for another visit. You and I should find a game.”

“I'd love that.” Tommy couldn't seem to agree fast enough. The fact that his boyfriend's dad actually wanted to hang out and spend time with him made him feel like he was in a dream world. “I think the Lakers usually play in Vegas that time of year. I could fly us out for a game,” he offered with a shrug. “I go there pretty regularly.”

“Uh oh,” Margaret joked. “Wrong thing to say. He'll be taking you up on those offers all the time.”

“That's fine with me,” Tommy assured her. “I love to fly. Evan and I go on little trips every time we have a few days off together. He's always finding new places for us to go within a couple hours of here.”

“Tell you what,” Phillip said, tipping his beer toward Tommy, “you fly us there, the tickets are on me.”

“Oh, you don't-”

“No, no. I insist.”

“Just nod and say okay,” Margaret faux-whispered.

Tommy laughed, but nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Good. Now, if you'll excuse me,” Phillip said, setting his beer on the coffee table before he went to stand. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”

Once Phillip had rounded the corner to head down the hall, Margaret scooted closer to Tommy, a smile playing on her face. “You don't go by Thomas, do you?”

Tommy let out a breathy laugh. “No, Ma'am. No, I don't.”

She nodded. “I figured. Tommy, then, right?”

“Yes, Ma'am. Thomas is fine though, if you prefer it.”

She reached over and patted him on the arm. “No, Tommy is what you go by, Tommy is what you'll be called. And please, call me Margaret, and my husband Phillip. No need for formalities.”

“Yes, Ma'- Margaret.”

“You're a good man, Tommy,” she said, her face serious but sincere. “You're good for Buck.”

Tommy could feel his heart swell. “I'd argue he's good for me.”

“You're good for each other,” she compromised. “I've never seen him so happy, so settled. He may think I don't know him, and maybe I don't as well as I should, but I know that.” A happy blush rose on her cheeks. “I have a funny feeling you'll be calling us Mom and Dad sometime soon.”

Tommy felt overwhelmed. He'd never expected her to say anything like that, but he loved the sound of it. He was right near having to blink back tears as Buck walked out into the living room. “Jee caught Dad on his way out from the bathroom,” he said to his mom. “She's asking for you now.”

“Off I go,” Margaret said with a giggle, giving Tommy another pat before she got up and left.

Buck sat down beside Tommy, tilting his head when he saw the dazed expression on his face.

“You okay?” he asked, wrapping Tommy's arm up in his.

Tommy smiled at him, then leaned over and gave him a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned in surprise, the kiss ending with a pop. “What was that for?”

“I just... I've had a really good night. And I love you.”

Buck snuggled closer to him, laying his head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

As he rested there, Buck went over the night in his head. There had been no awkward moments. No moments where Buck felt embarrassed or upset.

Tommy never had to defend him or himself.

They had even managed to be alone with Tommy for an extended period and Tommy seemed... happy about it?

His parents actually got along with Tommy really well.

Buck was glad.

He was glad his parents liked Tommy.

There was no problem.

He wasn't jealous at all.

Honest.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #kinley #sorry the buckley parents are not villains here #they deserve some fics where they're human beings who are trying their best to be better #also i don't think we talk about phillip being a hottie enough #i mean that's not relevant to this but it's true

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cvpiddszn · 6 months ago

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: honestly i have no excuses for the no content. just surprise!!

summary: amara hughes says her first word

warnings: children

word count: 0.9k

birdie & jack masterlist

"C'mon Ams! You can do it? Say da-da.” Jack slowed his words, opening his mouth wider to emphasize the word but I only grinned. I knew that it was close to her first word and seeing Jack so excited to witness it made my heart melt. He had just gotten back from another long roadie, finally getting a few days break and he was convinced that he was going to crack her.

There was a thought in the back of my mind that she would say it, but not when pressured to. She would say it at the most unexpected time. I sat beside them, an old rerun of Friends playing on the TV. Neither of us paid attention but rather to the girl who was eagerly trying to jump up and down on her father’s thighs as Jack’s hands rested under her arms holding her up.

“Jacky, sweetheart, you can’t force her first words out of her,” I mentioned, tapping his shoulder gently to get his attention. My husband only groaned in protest, setting her down on his lap. She stared up at him with stary eyes, blinking her blue eyes at him innocently. I small little blonde curl fell in front of her face as Jack brushed it aside.

Amara looked towards me like she was trying to give me a sign that said “Help me, Mom”. I nearly giggled at the sight, grabbing her from Jack and placing her on my hip, looking back to her father who pouted in protest. I poked her small nose, kissing it gently. “Is Daddy bothering you, sweet girl?” Her head went to a nod, my brows raising at the gesture. “Did you see that, Jacky? She just nodded!”

Jack didn’t find it as funny, crossing his arms across his chest in a pout while I just laughed. He huffed out in jealousy, “She nods to everything now. I’m starting to think that she gets that from you, little bird.” He leaned forward to poke at my thigh, while I just laughed.

“Nope, her little nods are something you would do. She picks up everything that you do, J. Meaning everything she does, she looks to you for. Just like how you just laugh at how she tosses her food on the floor? She thinks she’s funny. Don’t you, Mara?” I smiled at her gently and she nodded once again while I burst out laughing placing her on the ground near her toys and picking something up while she grabbed it and began to chew on it.

Lowen rushed into the room, pulling at his Dad’s sweatpants and begging him to play mini sticks with him. “Please, Dad. Lake won’t play with me, he says he’s tired of playing. He wants to play with Amara and I still want to play.” Jack only nodded his reply, taking his son’s hand and letting him pull him downstairs as Jack and Lake switched places. Lake replaced Jack’s spot on the couch.

There were often times that I saw many differences between the twins. Neither is much like their Dad or me but their Uncles. Lowen was much like his Uncle Quinn, competitive but quiet, and said very few things, he preferred to be out of the spotlight but bathed in compliments. Lake was more like Luke, quiet and less competitive, preferred to celebrate quietly, and didn’t know how to accept praise even though we as parents constantly gave it out. The one thing they both completely lit up about was their family, they loved talking about their little sister or their dad being in the NHL, along with their plenty of uncles playing as well.

“Jacky,” Amara’s little voice spoke up and it took me a moment before realizing that it was her. My eyes widened briefly, staring at her blankly as she blinked back at me.

I leaned down toward her, picking her up. “What was that, sweet girl?” I asked hoping that I didn’t completely make up that she said Jack’s name. I looked back at Lake who stood up at his little sister’s first word being spoken.

“Jacky!” She clapped her hands together with a smile and my jaw opened, I watched as Lake ran out of the room racing downstairs to tell Jack who would be ecstatic that she said his name.

“That’s right, sweet girl! Did you say Daddy’s name? I think you did! Jack!” My voice called out, and I swear that I could hear a crash from downstairs, the sound of someone running up the stairs in a hurry nearly stumbling in the process. Jack came bursting through the room. “She said your name J!”

“Did she really? Say it again, Ams!” Jack took her from my arms, smiling wide as he waited patiently (his version of patient) for his little girl to repeat the word.

She took a moment, opening her mouth before the word came out again. “Jacky.”

My husband paused watching her, eyes flickering between hers and mine. He took a moment, processing her words before turning his head towards me, a teasing glare on his face, “This is your fault. Maybe you should start calling me Daddy around the house.” He commented and when he listened to himself, he became confused. “It did not sound like that in my head.”

I patted his shoulder gently, “Remember when you tried to make me do that? Not happening again,” My nose scrunched up. “But hey, I think it’s better that she said your name instead of Dad, just means she can’t call anyone else Daddy.” I shrugged.

Little did we know that the little girl wouldn’t know any other word for the next three weeks, so she followed around Jack saying my nickname for him since we were younger. And never once did I think that I was going to be okay with sharing the nickname until the word came from her lips.

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #cvpiddszn writes #nhl hockey

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charlottecutepie · 8 months ago

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How about Will being sweet and rough at the same time? Like verbally being sweet, gently calling you his little bunny with his hand around your throat or just generally being rougher physically but also leaning in for forehead kisses. 🥹💜🐰

౨ৎ𓂃 ࣪˖ Jealous bunny (William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal sex, outdoor sex, car sex, jealous!reader, riding, doggy style, missionary, praise, rough sex, lot of petnames, choking, multiple orgasms, small daddy kink, fluff, creampie, soft!william, mention of william being married

author notes: heyy ty sm for this wonderful idea, i really liked it!!! tho I went further and added a lil plot here, hope you don’t mind :) lets say it’s me warming up for dubcon fic with stalker!william !!!!!!

It's pretty late, William is driving slowly and carefully, which even surprises you. He usually always drives casually, but apparently the day at work turned out to be quite difficult, his face also shows that. He stares wearily at the empty road through glasses, his facial muscles relaxed as he blinks tiredly. You rest your chin on your hand and turn your head to look into the car's window. Beautiful moonlight falls on the green meadows, giving a magical shine to the emerald grass. The stars sparkle in the night sky, some white and others bluish. It's really beautiful, breathtaking even, you actually forget you're with William until his voice reaches you.

“I keep forgetting to ask,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, the hand that holds the steering wheel relaxed. “How's Elizabeth's success at school?”

You know what to answer him. You turn your head to William and your gaze immediately falls on his hand, or rather on the finger on which the wedding ring shines hideously. Why hasn't he taken it off yet? Him and his wife decided to divorce a couple of months ago.

“I try to motivate her to study, but—”

“Buut she's pretty stubborn, right?” he interrupts you with a smile.

“Yeah,” you nod. “she's rude to me sometimes, and she doesn't want to do her homework. Today she. . . actually, she threw a tantrum because she didn't like the breakfast I made her.” you sigh never taking your eyes off William's ring.

He chuckles softly. “Her mom did a great job raising Elizabeth as a spoiled girl, i can say.”

“Well, that's the thing.” you sound displeased, not hiding the resentment in your voice. “it's difficult with her.”

“I know, darling, i know.” his hand lays on your thigh and strokes it, as if soothing you. “but believe me, this is how Elizabeth expresses her love. If she's throwing a tantrum and doesn't obey, it means she loves you.” you even seem to relax until you hear his next words. “kind of reminds me of her mom.”

Your face drops and you slap his hand away. “Don't wanna hear bout her.” you mumble as you narrow your eyes.

William looks at you. “Sorry, baby, i won't mention her.”

Silence filled the car again, only the chirping of crickets and the engine of the car are the only sounds. You're really offended that he started talking about his wife again, even though he always spoke neutrally about her, they just didn't suit each other. Their marriage was bursting at the seams and the only thing that kept them together were their kids.

“Why you're still wearing this ring?” you question him while continuing to look into the window, but your eyes aren't focused on the beauty of nature at all.

“I put it on especially for work,” he answers calmly. “It minimizes unnecessary questions and gossip about my personal life. You know i don't like sharing my things with people.” you glance at him briefly, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay.” you pout, that's when you feel his hand on your leg again, this time squeezing softly.

“I don't care about her anymore, princess.” you barely keep yourself from pushing him back, jealousy swallows you whole.

“You still love her. . . ” you say quietly. And even though you realize you're doing the wrong thing, because there really is nothing between them anymore, it's like they've become strangers again, you still can't contain your emotions and jealousy.

“Love her? Darling, I left all feelings related to her behind a long time ago.” he raises his eyebrows and gives you a surprised face, the car is going slower by the minute because William is clearly not interested in driving now. He didn't expect his girl to let herself think that he loves someone else. You're quiet, your face darkened and corners of your mouth downturned. “You're beautiful you know?” William's deep voice asks, his hand caresses your skin, slowly moving closer to your core.

“Don't say that.” you snap at him, trying to hold yourself from arguing with him. William chuckles, oh babygirl, it's no use fighting with me.

“Why i can't? If i love my bunny, why can't i say that?” this time you let him touch you, but you still don't look at him, trying your best to pretend that you don't care about what's happening right now. Except William has touched and fucked you so many times that he knows exactly when his little doll is lying. Of course, when you cross your legs and your body tenses, William knows what that means. He smiles and rolls off the road. “You're really stunning, these little shorts fit you so well.” he cooes.

“Don't.” you hiss at him.

“Or what, bunny?” you don't answer his question. “c'mon.” he reaches over and pulls your chin up until you're forced to look at him. Afton smiles, the corners of his lips tugging up, he stares into your eyes.

“You love her.”

“I don't.”

“You do—” William doesn't wait for you to deny it anymore; his mouth slams down onto yours in a searing kiss.

“I do love you, doll.” he pulls away only to whisper raggedly against these words into your lips before kissing you again. He claims your lips once more, caressing every inch of skin exposed by your t-shirt with one hand while the other slowly trails up towards your breast. You whimper into his mouth when he squeezes softly through the delicate fabric.

“If you'd love me, you'd—” you try to speak when he breaks the kiss, but your voice breaks when he plants tender kisses along the side of your jawline lowering to your neck. William murmurs another “i love only you” and when he reaches for your t-shirt, he slides his hand underneath the fabric to gently cup your breast; suckling on your skin while running his thumb over your sensitive nipple in an intimate circle.

“Is that enough prove, darling?” William pulls away from your neck, his breath warm against your lips as he looks into your eyes, he's watching your face, studying your reaction. But you're fucking silent, even though you know it's damn more than enough, you're still quiet. Your chest rising up and down from his passionate kisses and touches, your mouth opened, but no words come out.

Since his girl is silent, William decides to take matters into his own hands, he reaches down and rubs your pussy through your shorts. He grabs your hips while thrusting up against you; making it apparent just how hard he's gotten for you. “Mmmhm, my pretty bunny” he nuzzles your neck, breathing in deeply; you're sweet and hot all at once — like heaven on earth to him. He leans back slightly against the driver's seat, guiding you over his erect length which presses excitedly against your pussy through his pants. “Let me love you.” he takes yours chin again forcing it up for a hungry kiss while simultaneously grinding you against him.

“Right here?” you ask him in between kisses, trying your fucking best to make your voice sound neutral or careless even, but you fuck up as he grinds against you, his bulge pokes your clothed cunt and you feel your panties wetter. “N-no, i don't want, let me go.”

“Right here.” William looks at you, never believing your words, the signs are unmistakable: flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and soaked panties. You're horny, it's written all over your needy face. “Just let me love you darling.”

“You love your wife, you still wear that. . .” you gasp when William roughly bounces you on his erection. “damn ring.”

Not wasting any time, he removes the wedding ring carelessly from his finger and throws it aside before grabbing your hips, pulling you onto himself with force and kissing you again. A lot of kisses, you can tell that, your lips already swollen from that. “I love you, i need only you, only my little princess, mine.” William pulls back slightly, tugging your shorts and panties off in one swift move, revealing your glistening pussy. He watches hungrily as you bite your lip but don't stop him. He fumbles with the button and zipper on his pants before pushing them down along with his underwear to reveal a fully erect dick just waiting to thrust into you. “Gonna fuck that jealousy out of you.” he growls.

Panting heavily, William lines up his hard cock with your wet hole and then plunges inside you roughly, causing a sharp gasp to escape from both of you. He lets you adjust to his length, holding you in his big hands, making you feel small and safe with him, he groans and begins pounding into you hard, filling you just perfect, moaning as he praises his little princess. “Perfect, you're perfect. . .” his hips drive deeper every second until his balls slap loudly against your ass.

“Nghah— Ahh, William!” you feel so stretched open by the force of each thrust and yet it doesn't hurt. You grip onto his shoulders tightly for support but that doesn't slow him down in the least.

“Told you I'd make your pussy mine, bunny.” William huskily mutter in your ear before claiming your mouth with another fierce kiss as his cock reaches deeper in you at rough pace. He can feel you getting closer by how nice your pussy clamps around him and it's all he needs: feel your little cunt clench on his cock, be inside you while you cum. “Ughh, love the way this little cunt sucks me in.” he runs his hand down your body and finds your clit.

“I'm—” your voice weak from sudden stimulation, you shake as his fingers fastly caress your little sensitive bundle. “Fuck, gonna cum!” you whine, closing your eyes tight as you try to bounce on William, but you don't even realize he's doing all work here, having a firm grip on you and moving you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll.

Hearing your moan makes William's heart race faster, spurring him on to fuck you even harder. “C’mon, doll, let me hear you say it.” he continues slamming into your pussy, enjoying how wet and tight you're getting from his relentless thrusts. You barely hear what he tells you as your moans and slapping sounds filling the car.

“Daddy, please-please,” you cry out and in next second your ears catch satisfied laugh from him. “let me cum, please!!” your begs sound way too good and pretty for him, so he leans closer to you and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead.

“Such a good girl— yeahhh, go ahead, cum on my cock.” you let out a moan and shake as waves of pleasure crash over you. “fuck. . .” William's pace slows down to smooth and gentle, he kisses your breasts through your t-shirt, your nipples hard from chilly summer night and how horny you are. William licks your pretty nubs through clothes and you loose your head from such intimacy. Your fingers dig into his shoulders even harder now as he buries himself deeper inside until it seems impossible to go any further, reaching your cervix. Your orgasm sweeps over you and William feels it, hearing your rapid breaths turn into loud moans. His cock pulsating inside you and you cream around him as he finishes inside you, letting himself moan from how desperately your cunt tries to milk every last drop from him. “Hhmm, princess, my girl.” he hides his face in your chest, never wanting to let his little girl go.

He pulls away from you slowly, taking a moment to catch his breath. Looking up at your flushed cheeks, and into your eyes. “Was it enough to prove that I love only you?” he's still inside you and you shiver a little in aftershocks of your intense orgasm. “C'mon, tell me, doll.” his voice is soft, but there's an insistent undertone to it making you realize he wants an answer more than anything right then.

You look into his eyes and although inside you realize that what he did was more than enough, you do your best not to smile. And you're good at it, your face still looks like it did at the beginning of your talk, offended and completely provoking him to further actions. William reads everything in your eyes, which sparkle with devilish excitement.

So, William continues proving you, fucking you from behind in the passenger seat of his car, the cool leather brushes against your hot skin. With him inside you so deep and stretching your pussy it seems impossible not to let a loud moan escape your lips. His strong arms grip around your waist tightly as he picks up speed, watching how your ass jiggle whenever he thrusts. “Can’t believe you think i love someone other than you.”

“Oh fuck— Hahh, mmm. . . H-harder!” you moan and he drives into you harder, his breathing ragged and heavy.

“How could you even think that?” he growls in your ear. The more William talks to you the hornier you get as your whole body trembling and quivering. The need for him is intense inside you, every thrust pushing you towards another orgasm; making you claws dig deeper into leather seats. “My good little girl, my princess. Daddy gonna make sure to prove he loves only you.”

The contrast of his sweet words and rough fucking makes you cry, eyes watery as tears appears in corner of your eyes. The sounds and begs of yours make him fuck you harder, just as you asked to, William manhandles you by grabbing your hair, your roots hurts as he yanks your head to him.

“I belong to you, bunny,” he grunts, enjoying your glassy eyes full of sweet pretty tears as you drool silly. “and you belong to me. As it should be, right?” your heart trying to escape your chest as he pounds into you.

“Right there, fuck! Fuck—fuck—fuckkk!” you shake under him, you'll surely be sore after that, not only your body, but your throat because of how loud you're screaming. You're clearly ignoring his question.

“Answer me, bunny.” William tugs on your hair, making you gasp from unexpected pain. Your pussy gripping on him so fucking tight that he feels he gonna cum in any second again. “C'mon,” he thrusts. “answer” another thrust. “me.” you know you're acting bitchy right now, it's totally wrong, but you love this kind of William, who's trying to prove all his feelings, who cares about your state, who's ready to fuck all these insecurities out of you, so rude and aggressive, hair pulling and animalistic pace, but so gentle and soft, praising you and trying to make you believe.

You don't give him the answer he waited, instead just bucking your hips to his thrusts, wanting nothing more but to cum on his cock again.

“Fine, doll.” you hear William's voice behind you, but this time it's different, tone intimidating, more serious, his grip on your hair weakens and he lets you go.

You don't get time to process why he pulls out, leaving you feeling horribly empty as he changes position, manhandling you again, laying you on your back, his hands spread your legs wider and he plunges inside you again. This time you arch your back and your cunt throbbing, your hand grip onto the edge of the passenger seat as you cum hard, trembling and breathless. William watches, enjoying the view where you two connect and groaning with satisfaction when you pull yourself closer to him begging for more. “Cum for daddy, that's a good girl.” he moves, feeling how your walls clench around his shaft while he rubs your swollen bud in soft circles.

He leans over you, his mouth capturing your lips in a messy kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. William groans against your lips, perfectly feeling how tight you just got from cumming. Your hips lift off the seat involuntarily, inviting him deeper into you; wanting all of him inside you as he fills you up completely until his balls slap against your skin. He never stops moving, instead changing from thrusting to completely pulling out of you, leaving your hole clenching around nothing only to slam back in with wet sound, abusing your cunt. Mad pleasure coursing through your veins, your juices making a beautiful mess all over the car seats.

“I must fuck this cunt properly, yeah? To make my little girl believe me,” he bruises your cervix, maintaining eye contact with you. You look into his face, but even through your blurry vision you see how handsome he is, especially now, hair messy as ever, face flushed and pupils dilated, sweaty forehead and all of this is yours, only yours, this man belongs to you. You take him like a good girl you are, your dripping pussy that wet he easily and deliciously slides in and out, creating sloppy sounds. “i'll make you understand.”

His strong arms wrap around your neck and your eyes widen, in both fear and excitement, this is something new. William presses down on your throat, earning from you a muffled wheeze and then pulls out, depriving your pussy of warmth. You grip his wrists, watching William's frowned face, but his eyes betray him, so loving and caring, filled with nothing, but pure love for his angel. Weird feelings overwhelming you and you really get lost, he chokes you, his brows furrowed as he's concentrated, his tip slides over your slit, but never entering and you ready to burst in hysteric from wanting him inside again.

“No, please, fuck me, please!” you cry, trying to move, but your voice is so fucked up, William adores that emotion written on your confused face. “William. . .”

“Now you understand, babygirl? Answer me.” William stares deeply into your eyes, his grip tightening on your neck; enough to remind you who's in control. You're struggling for breath with tears running down your face. “Fucking answer me.” he repeats again.

“Ye-yeah! You love me, William. . . No one else.” you try to nod, your voice hoarse.

“Oh my god,” he sighs deeply, his leaking cock twitching from your beautiful sounds. “yes, that's right, baby, that's it, such a good girl.” he releases his hold on your throat and runs a finger over your cheek, wiping away your tears. He leans for a deep kiss while pushing inside you and you wrap your legs around his waist, gladly welcoming him inside again.

“Mhm— Mhnng!—” your muffled moans. “love you so muuuch!” you cry into his mouth and the whole car staggers like an earthquake from his quick, sharp and rough thursts.

“Me too, bunny, me too.” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, voice hushed, full of adoration and affection for you. “Pussy so fuckin tight—” beautiful groans leave him. “Gonna cum— ughhh inside you again, claim you. Mine, all mine.”

“Please,” you manage to beg through whines. “dont stop, ahhh!”

”Never gonna stop loving you, doll,” he pants heavily as he starts to slow down his thrusts. His eyes fixed on your beautiful face as he continues kissing your hot tears away. His cock hits all your sensitive spots, making you loose your mind, you grip onto him desperately. “My pretty angel, you're everything to me— Mmhmm—”

What a wonderful babbling mess you are, your jealousy has evaporated and you're not even sure if you even remember his wife's name anymore. You're reaching for another kiss, too hungry for William's attention and he gladly gives it to you.

His hand yanks your t-shirt up to reveal your cute breasts bouncing from the intense pace, his runs his finger all over your nipple and pinches it, what makes you gasp. William leans down to capture your other nipple into his mouth and you shudder from his beard brushing against your sensitive skin, only to hear soft laugh “so sensitive for me.” from Afton. He sucks on your lil bud and bites it, leaving painful red mark from his teeth and all this time never stopping thrusting in and out of your squelching cunt.

He straightens his back, removes annoying strands from his forehead and then your mouth falls open when his thumb lays on your little clit, rubbing it in fast but sensual circles. William hums, watching you cumming for him again, your cunt unbelievably tight around him as you gush on him, his tip rubbing against your sweet spot. William moans loudly from that crazy tightness, warmness and wetness of yours, and he cums too, again inside of you. He slows down, but continues to spill his seed inside of you, however you're that full it starts to leak out of you, mixing with your juices and creating a mess in his car.

“Nhaah, daddy—” you purr, watching his beautiful face confronted in pleasure, little smile appears on your face. Afton glances at you and pulls out, resting his tip on your clit, still feeling the hotness of your pussy. “that felt so good.”

He's fighting fatigue so he doesn't fall on you, a warm smile also appears on his face when he notices your satisfied pretty face, your body still trembling, his cum still oozes out of your pulsating hole and William groans at such view.

“So,” his fingers tilts your chin again. “not so jealous anymore?”

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