#very very simply put he’s like a disappointed dad. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiirschtein-archive · 2 years ago

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⋆ 「 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 (𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐦𝐨𝐦. 」 ⋆

feat. — toji fushiguro x f!reader, kid!megumi

word count. — 1.4k

content. — sfw, non-sorcerer au, established relationship (marriage), mostly just fluffy domestic stuff, reader is addressed as ‘mom/mama/mommy,’ toji’s kind of a bad parent but he’s working on it, brief mention of toji smoking (cigarettes), overprotective!toji, very minor suggestive themes (from toji 🙄 he’s a walking cw/tw)

notes. — idk. this has been incessantly on my brain pretty much from the moment i woke up today, even to the point where i was writing half of this at the laundromat lmao. mother’s day yesterday had me feeling some type of way, so here have some fun headcanons from a strange eldest daughter!!!! (i might end up doing a set of these for gojo x reader too 🤔)

⋆ 「 — he’s not your biological son, but you’ve been around since you started seeing toji when megumi was still a baby. but now, a few years later, you might as well be his real mother. you certainly act like it and feel like it, so toji gladly initiates the conversation about official adoption. it just makes sense. you eventually explain the situation to megumi as best as you can simply so that he doesn't grow up thinking he was lied to or anything of the sort, but as far as he's concerned, you're his mom whether it's by blood or not.

⋆ 「 — and oh, megumi’s a mama’s boy. i imagine he’s just a little bit of a healthier kid vs. canon given the better family situation, but he’s still always a bit of a grumpy baby, appreciating his autonomy and trying to be as self-sufficient and mature as he can be. but he’ll most certainly run to you when he needs help, is truly hurt, or just needing a bit of comfort. you’ve always treated him so softly and kindly with understanding, so he honestly feels more comfortable coming to you most of the time instead of his dad.

⋆ 「 — he likes the way you organize the bookshelf in his room or fold and sort his clothes in special little ways. he gets upset any time toji tries to put a book back in the wrong place or can’t figure out where his damn socks are. gumi will scowl and say, “that’s not where it goes.” or go deadpan and be like, “mom always keeps the socks in the bottom drawer.” disappointed that his father can’t even remember. toji just grumbles and says, “your mama’s gonna ruin you.”

⋆ 「 — has called you 'mom' basically since he was old enough, but don't let him fool you. megumi will drop the big boy act and come out with 'mama' or 'mommy' when something's wrong or he's really excited. he'll come to you with quiet tears and sniffles, a little ashamed that he's crying, but present to you a scraped elbow, "mama... it hurts." you clean up the scrape and explain to him the little medical details in a somewhat understandable way to help him focus on something besides the pain, and you tell him that it'll be okay, and that it's alright to cry. or on the flip-side, you and toji take him to the zoo, little gumi on his dad's shoulders, and he gasps and points excitedly, "look, mommy! look at the big elephant!" and it feels incredible to see him be so spirited.

⋆ 「 — along the lines of the art from this post and the thought i had about it earlier, just imagine that you're at some event (maybe like a birthday party or something), and toji's been hauling megumi around. they're both so over it at this point and are like 'please get me out of this' so as soon as toji walks past the obnoxious inflatable bouncy house, he smirks and just YEETS that kid inside without a second thought. after regaining his breath, megumi just looks at his father with the most EVIL little scowl as other kids bounce around him with smiles. by the look on that child's face you could've swore that his father had just done him the ultimate betrayal.

so gumi slides out and hurriedly makes his way over to where you're sitting off to the side, quietly climbing into your lap for a little bit of solace. he wiggles in close to your chest and you tuck him under your chin with a ‘come here, sweetpea,’ rocking slowly and humming something soft because he always seems to like it when you do.

toji comes over and you look at him through narrowed eyes. "kids are supposed to like shit like that," he says.

"you know he likes when things are more quiet," you respond, and toji rolls his eyes at how you seemingly spoil your son.

"just thought it might be good for him to try and get along with the other brats." toji tries to cover up the fact that he tossed his kid for the sheer personal enjoyment of it.

you huff in disbelief. "oh, like you get along so well with everyone?"

he scoffs and moves in behind you, leaning down to place a kiss on your neck. "i get along with you," he says almost suggestively.

you just keep stroking megumi's hair and give the top of his head a gentle kiss. "yeah, well not today," you say, shooting a smug, resolute smile towards your husband, ultimately taking his son's side.

⋆ 「 — outside of his alone time, megumi would honestly much rather be with you instead of other children. toji thinks it's probably unhealthy and you're inclined to agree, but you also don't want to force megumi into situations that will just make him miserable. so, when appropriate, you don't mind at all pacing around with him in your arms or have him walk next to you (maybe holding your hand if he’s not in a ‘big boy’ mood), teaching him about the things you see in the woods, the park, or even the museum. when toji's not away working, he'll join too because it admittedly makes his heart feel soft to watch you two together. it always has, because you've been doing this with megumi since he was a baby. it never gets old. if it wasn't already so difficult trying to figure out how to do things right by his son, he'd want you to give him even more babies.

⋆ 「 — megumi likes doing things with his dad sometimes too, though. toji tries his best to do it right and watch both his mouth and his temper. you like seeing them getting along, even if it's just quietly watching tv or a movie (probably a cartoon where toji gets kind of into and will ask the occasional question like "why does that one stupid chick keep doing that?" and megumi just shrugs like, "i dunno. she is pretty dumb.") or playing ball outside because gumi's starting to show some athleticism. but you have to remind toji that he can't always be so rough or competitive with games because megumi is literally a child.

⋆ 「 — toji can also be way too overprotective of you two at times. you'll be out and about and he'll just be wearing such an intimidating expression as he walks behind you both, on the lookout for anyone who might want to cause trouble or take the wrong sort of glance at his wife. he'll even snap at people for walking too close or like cutting in line or something petty, and you have to tell him stop acting like an attack dog and looking like the grim reaper because dear god you're literally just having lunch at the park. even at his age, megumi's just eating his ice cream and looking at his dad with his little baby deadpan expression and thinking "this man really needs to take a chill pill." other times he can be more relaxed, however, obviously confident in his ability to protect you. it depends on his mood. but that still doesn’t stop him from being embarrassing and going off on people in public if something happens.

⋆ 「 — you also know all of gumi’s favorite meals and snacks. it’s yet another one of those things where, if his dad does it wrong, megumi expresses a disappointment beyond his years. toji will be making and packing his son’s school lunch just as instructed by the notes you gave him, but it’s by no means as neat and meticulous as when you do it. toji’s got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth with furrowed, concentrating brows, his free hand shakily reaching for a cup of fresh coffee, and megumi’s standing there with his little backpack, criticizing his father the entire time. “mom doesn’t do it like that,” he says.

“well mom ain’t here right now. and it doesn’t matter how the sandwich is cut, is still tastes the damn same.”

gumi doesn’t even physically react, still wearing the same neutral expression, just waiting for his dad to hurry up. “mom says you shouldn’t smoke. and she also says not to use bad words.”

toji scoffs and then smirks. “well mommy uses all sorts of bad words you don’t even know about when her and daddy have play time.”

megumi’s already almost late for school and can barely feel his feet from how tight his dad tied his shoelaces. he also asks you later about “play time,” and you want to absolutely murder your husband over it.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #c. — toji fushiguro #hc. — toji fushiguro #fluff. — toji fushiguro #c. — megumi fushiguro #hc. — megumi fushiguro #fluff. — megumi fushiguro #my writing.

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notjustjavierpena · 5 months ago

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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Haven’t written about these two for a while! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Joel finds an excuse to get out of watching the Olympics but only so he can go upstairs and find you getting ready to go out while listening to the summer’s biggest album.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, basically pwp, dad’s best friend, age gap, immorality kink, dirty talk, groping, fingering, possessive behavior. pet names, Daddy kink, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, anal threat, creampie, y2k vibes, brat summer

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58023772

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The TV is loud in your father's living room as the Olympics are on but Joel can concentrate on nothing but the thought of you being upstairs even if he had looked forward to seeing the competition in gymnastics this afternoon. He is here because it is tradition to watch whatever sports are on during the summer with your father, his best friend, but nothing feels the same since he started seeing you behind his mate’s back.

Carefully, he shifts his weight on the leather couch cushion, the heat of Texas making the material stick uncomfortably to the slightly exposed skin of his thighs. It creaks as he changes his position, leaning forward to grab his near-empty beer and sneak a look at your dad out of the corner of his eye. He tries to figure out if he knows that Joel has had his face buried between his daughter’s thighs just yesterday but he doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in the intricate routine on the screen.

He leans back again and takes a long sip of the bottle in his hand, emptying it in case he has to think of a reply to a sudden question about you. It doesn’t come but instead, he receives a raised brow.

“You sure are thirsty there, Miller,” he says with a gentle grin, playful and normal in everything he does so that Joel may relax a little more. He laughs with embarrassment in return, a blush of guilt that he hopes is taken as shame creeping up from under the neck of his t-shirt.

“Hot day,” he answers simply. He covers up his train of thought with a conversation, “Did you see that landing? That was something else.”

Your father seems satisfied with that answer to the degree where he turns back to the television, “And that dismount. They’re gettin’ better and better each year.”

Joel follows his line of sight, fixated upon the tight suit of a female gymnast, and chuckles under his breath. He puts the bottle back on the coffee table, knowing he is no better than that; he can almost hear your soft laughter from upstairs as you chat with someone on the phone, can almost feel the warmth of your gorgeous body against his. This push and pull between what he should do and what he wants to do is slowly driving him to insanity.

Your father slaps the armrest in excitement as another woman does her routine without faltering, “Did you see that? Gold medal for sure.”

“Yes,” Joel lies like he has gotten so good at lately, for the first time in his entire life not very interested in sports, “Best thing I’ve seen so far, think you’re right.”

He is more busy with thinking about how to act in case you make your way downstairs, wearing a cute sundress and smiling at him like you always do but still in a way that it took him way too long to notice. He hopes you might give him the thrill of making an appearance soon.

During commercial break, your father gets up from the couch to get more beers from the kitchen and Joel has time to glance towards the stairs. He cranes his neck to see if you are standing at the top but he is left disappointed, left to imagine what you are doing upstairs in your childhood bedroom with the Hello Kitty computer mat. He remembers the way your tits were pressed against it the first time he fucked you and shamelessly hopes he’ll get to have you in this house again just once before summer ends. Perhaps today? No, he shouldn’t want to do anything with you in this house.

Time passes. Nothing happens. It’s with relief and disappointment that he concludes that he won’t see you, with a smile as he is handed another cold beer to not quite quench his thirst.

“Five more routines to go,” your father says with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he looks through the program on his phone, “Sprints later. Always exciting.”

“No volleyball?” Joel hates himself for joking with a wink.

“Not watching women in tiny shorts, are we?” Joel nearly jumps at the sudden sound of your voice, blushing at his own distasteful joke, “Didn’t know you were a pervert, Mr. Miller.”

“Mind your own business, you,” your father tuts with his eyes on his phone. It takes a moment before he glances over the back of the couch, giving Joel’s own eyes a second to stare at you while he clenches his jaw at the sight of your white sundress, tied in around your waist. You look radiant, pure, and forbidden. He wants to reach out to touch the bit of your thigh that peeks out.

“Another shitty day for women,” you roll your eyes teasingly and nudge him playfully in a way that sends electricity through his entire being. However, Joel tenses up at hearing you use foul language, an inside rule between you that he cannot tell you that you’ve broken.

Your father says your name in disapproval and glances apologetically at him, “Where did you learn to talk like that? Sure as heck ain’t from me. The kids you’re hanging out with tonight?”

Joel’s grip tightens on the couch as you giggle sweetly, the sound enchanting him to the point where he thinks of everything off-putting that he can come up with so his cock might flag again. He hopes it doesn’t strain against the loose fabric of his shorts. You are doing this on purpose, teasing him relentlessly now that he can do nothing about it, and he is so turned on that it makes him feel ill.

“Oh, you old man. You can’t keep me in line anymore. I’m over 21; I can do whatever I want,” you stand behind the couch and wrap your arms around your father, kissing his cheek from behind. Joel looks at the way your ass sticks out, quickly catching himself ogling when your father’s eyes fix on him with embarrassment.

“She’s incorrigible,” he says with resignation, patting the hand that you rest on his shoulder. Joel can only imagine what would happen if your dad knew what he was thinking about.

“I can imagine her being her own boss,” he laughs to make himself feel less like a creep but doesn’t quite succeed when your dad joins in.

“Why are you here?” Joel hears him finally say.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” you begin, pulling back a little to look at your father properly, “Can I borrow the car?”

He frowns for a moment but then nods, “Alright but be careful.”

“Always am, thank you, Dad. Love you,” you peck his cheek again to feel him smile, stretching to your full height. The wind blows in from the door to the garden and Joel catches a sniff of your perfume as you leave the living room, “I’ll go change now. See you, Dad! Joel!”

You disappear upstairs again and the atmosphere shifts significantly. Your absence sends him into small talk with your father, going over the usual topics of work, sports, and family. He tells your dad about a big upcoming project, that Sarah’s doing well at college, and that he actually never really cared much for cycling despite it being a massive hit each time the Olympics are held.

“Actually, I might head up for a sec,” he says when thoughts of you have raged long enough in his mind, making him shift in his seat before pushing himself to stand. He is too curious about seeing you, too desperate to have you alone, “Nature’s calling, and I can’t wait for the commercials.”

Your father chuckles, eyes still glued to the television where they are handing out medals, “Sure thing, Joel. You know where it is. Tell my offspring to get out if she’s barricaded the door.”

Joel nods, giving a relieved smile, and quickly makes his way upstairs. His heart pounds with the anticipation of the moment ahead. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he hesitates briefly, listening for any sound of where you might be, and sure enough, he hears the faint hum of music coming from the bathroom and walks towards it.

Without knocking, he opens the bathroom door and finds you in front of the mirror, applying makeup to a song that he has never heard. The sight of you makes his erection come right back; you have changed into a pleated miniskirt that stops way above your knees, making the skin where your thighs meet your ass peek out. Above the waistline, he can see the waistband of your pink underwear and he has to adjust himself in his shorts.

“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” He demands to know, shutting the door behind him with a click. The music fades to the background as you wiggle your hips automatically.

You look up from your lips, catching his eye in the mirror, and smile sweetly while applying lip gloss. The color makes your lips seem plumper, the shine most likely to accentuate your cupid’s bow if you were to stretch your lips around his cock. You look away again, purposely acting like a brat, “Out with friends. No boys allowed.”

“Seems like you’re dressed to impress someone,” he retorts. If you were to check him out again, you would see the way his eyes are going down your intoxicating figure. He stops at your ankles, knowing how you would be standing on your toes if he touched you between your legs, before going all the way up to your face again.

You snap the lid of the lipgloss closed with a click and place it on the counter. You grab the edge with both hands, still looking at him through the mirror, “Did it ever occur to you that I might be dressed to impress you, Daddy?”

Joel does a sharp intake of air at hearing his nickname. He takes a step closer and you allow him. Without a second thought, he places his hands on your gorgeous hips and squeezes until your giggles make the upbeat song sound like garbage, “You’ll have me thinking about you all night with this skirt, kiddo. I’m not sure I’ll have it.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’ll feel your menacing presence all night?” You grin playfully, making a show of arching your back the way you sometimes do when he hits the right spot inside of you.

“I should run behind you to make sure you don’t expose your pretty pussy to strangers,” Joel lets his dominant hand slide down your thigh until he can clutch the fabric of your miniskirt. He pulls it down roughly to stress his point, covering you up as much as he can.

“You’re pulling it the wrong way, Daddy,” you tell him with a bratty grin, chewing your bottom lip to play innocent, “Don’t you want to have a peek? I’ll let you see up under it.”

“Daddy can’t promise only a peek,” he replies, making a point of his words by letting his bulge graze your ass. You push back into him to allow him whatever he wants without saying it explicitly, earning a moan that’s loud enough for you to reach for the small Bluetooth speaker and increase the volume a little. Your father must question the noise but he hopes that he simply thinks you’ve gone to your bedroom instead, letting the door stay open.

“What the hell is this garbage music?” Joel asks as he steps back to allow you to reach back effortlessly. You reach behind you to grip the hem of your skirt, lifting it with deliberate slowness. It is a teasing gesture, more about the act itself than the reveal of your lacy underwear that clings to your cunt and gives him the perfect outline.

“Stop sounding ancient,” you tease, shifting your weight from one foot to the other to strut your ass. You’re leaning forward a little to be more appealing, so easy to push forward so you have to grip the sink.

“You’re making it sound like a problem, Princess,” he replies with a chuckle. Yes, he could shove you down onto the counter but he chooses to finger the crotch of your barely-covering panties. You don’t seem to have predicted that he would actually dare to touch you in your father’s house, so you fall forward when he pulls your underwear to the side and sinks two fingers into your wet slit. He smiles tauntingly at you in the mirror, “Don’t act like you don’t cream yourself over older men like me or we wouldn’t be in this mess together.”

“What are you doing?” You ask with your glossy mouth hanging open. He turns his wrist to press against your g-spot and sure enough, you’re already on your toes with a filthy moan tumbling out your mouth. He admires the way you always manage to look stupid and cute when he touches you, and he notices that whenever he doesn’t pump his fingers inside of you, you fuck yourself onto them.

“I ain’t doing nothing,” he says casually and slowly drags his two fingers over the spot that belongs to him, the spot he always searches for and likes to stay on. The song is horrible for fucking but it’s loud enough that you can’t be heard downstairs and quiet enough that he can hear the wet squelch when he goes a little faster, “I’m just giving you something to remember me by when you’re showing your pussy to the whole world.”

“That’s not… Joel,” you say his name and he almost believes that you want him to stop but then you arch your back just how he likes and he slips his thumb between your folds to rub your clit. He has your cunt in an iron grip, flicking his wrist repeatedly to see beads of slick threatening to drip onto the tiled floor.

“Nuh-uh,” he sternly says and halts just a few seconds, “You don’t get to call me that when I hear you use your potty mouth around here. Who do you answer to?”

“You, Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whine and earn added pressure to your clit. You keen but then the song ends, and the both of you hold your breath for a moment. Courageously, you whisper, “He’ll hear.”

“Not if you shut your mouth,” Joel barks quietly back, relieved when another annoying pop song comes out of the speaker. He catches the pout on your lips in the mirror, the fake offense on your face that has his dick throbbing in his shorts. He needs to fuck you soon, hasn’t got a long time to do it before your father will get suspicious of what he is up to, but he won’t shove his cock in you before you have begged him to do it.

Then the line comes with a breathless moan, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Oh, so that’s the card you want to play to get fucked. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his knuckles brush your ass, avoiding your g-spot altogether, and practically lifts you on his digits. Your whole chest lays down over the sink and counter, your whole weight on your front instead of on your toes. It must hurt but not more than a dull ache when he pays attention to your clit as he does it.

“I sure as fuck shouldn’t but I didn’t think I’d find you dressed like a little cockhungry girl in here,” he tuts and abuses your perfect cunt. God, it sounds like he is splashing with water by now.

“I-I should be with someone my own age,” your voice shakes, your walls start to pulse slowly around him. It becomes hard for you to continue your chastising, ”God, you feel so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Ancient Daddy should pull out his fingers and fuck you while you’re on the verge of coming for him?” Joel mocks. He pushes down and drags the pads of his fingers against your front wall on the way out. His fingers are white with your creamy slick. He smears it over your quivering slit, talking softly while you are almost cross-eyed, “I need you, baby. Daddy has to do it even though it’s wrong.”

“No,” you protest but don’t mean it. You look back at the sound of his shorts being pulled down, whimpering feebly as his hard cock comes into your view.

“Yes, sweetheart, I gotta,” he holds the base of his cock in his hand, slowly dragging the tip through your messy folds. He pushes against your ass first, chuckling darkly when you tense up and shake your head. He teases you, “No? That’s not where you want it? Don’t want to get ass-fucked with your old man downstairs? This skirt surely tells me you like taking it up the ass.”

“N-no,” you let your head hang between your shoulders, exhaling shakily, “I want it in my pussy, Daddy. Please. Until you come inside.”

Joel gives in when you ask so nicely. He presses the head against where you need it the most, slowly letting your warm walls engulf his length while you release a relieved breath. He growls from low in his throat as he buries himself deep inside, touching where his fingers have been just moments before.

“You sure change your mind quickly, baby,” he points out after starting a rough rhythm that makes his thighs smack into your ass, the crotch of your panties straining against your cheek that bounces in rhythm with his thrusts. He settles his hands on your hips, dragging you onto his cock as much as he spears you onto it, “First you say no, and now you wanna get bred? What happened to my good girl?”

“I know it’s bad but it feels so good,” you pant softly, nearly sounding animated with how you moan and groan. You’ve reached to grope your tits through your lime green top, caressing yourself greedily as you are drowned out by some lady singing about Von Dutch, “Don’t stop, Daddy, please don’t stop.”

“Fucking hate this song,” Joel grumbles breathlessly while he keeps a steady pace, nudging something just right inside of you because you fly forwards, “Don’t tell me you’ll go out dancing to this.”

“I’ll come to it,” you groan, sucking in a breath as you start to squeeze around his girth, “Gonna come.”

“Give it to me,” he demands with heavy breathing. He lets one of his hands slide up your spine until it sits on your neck. He tilts his hips forward so he can pound you, rewarded with a squeak that he finds adorable.

Suddenly, the room goes completely quiet. The both of you turn your heads towards the speaker, noting at the same moment that its battery has run out and the possibility of getting heard has upped dramatically.

None of you say a word. Joel even tries to stop his heavy breathing, putting pressure on the back of your head when you squeeze him by wriggling slightly. He makes a quiet noise of disapproval, “Stop it.”

“We aren’t done,” you whisper with a wounded whimper. You try to fuck yourself onto him, “Daddy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he bites, listening for potential footsteps that could lead to his doom. Instead, he hears your father cheer in reaction to something on the television. Should he? He can’t go downstairs again with a raging hard-on and there’s no way in hell that he is jerking off in here alone like some perverse madman. He makes a decision.

Leaning down over your very still frame, he catches onto the tears that have welled up in your eyes and whispers, “I’m gonna fuck a load into you and you’re gonna be quiet all the way through, got it?”

You nod frantically. Joel’s hand on your hip tightens and he pushes to stretch to his full height again. He bottoms out inside of you, “If you can do that, I’ll let you come on it, okay?”

You nod again, pushing back eagerly to impossibly swallow more of him. With determination and efficiency, he draws back and slams into you with all the muscles in his neck straining to keep quiet. You feel like you have been molded into a perfect sleeve for his cock, like he couldn’t imagine that anyone could ever live up to what you are giving him right now; cheeks bouncing, spine arching, and walls clenching as you teeter on your high.

You come with a tiny whine that he’ll allow and he comes right along with you, high on the danger and the fact that you belong to him so desperately. He manages to just sound like he is doing a sharp intake of air, hinting at a growl, before he fills you with his warm seed, each pulse of your soft muscles milking him dry.

It is a dangerously addictive sensation. He pumps in and out of you until he is too sensitive, slipping out of your used cunt so he can see the drip of his load. He stumbles backward, tucks himself, sticky and overstimulated, back into his shorts, and watches you pull down your underwear and move to the toilet to not spill all over the floor.

You sport a lazy little smile, satisfaction all over your face. It dawns on him what he has done - the deprivation of it - so he tries to distract the feelings of disgust that he has towards himself, “Why are you going out anyway?”

You are both still panting. He grabs onto the sink to steady himself, feeling old as he leans against it while you pee, your knees falling inwards so you look innocent compared to what you have just done together.

“Getting a tattoo,” you reply with a dirty little smile.

That surely changes Joel’s train of thought. He straightens a little, “Of what?”

“Don’t know yet but I’ll tell you where,” you reach to point to your hip bone, measuring about an inch with your thumb and index finger. You beam girlishly at him and he feels his chest tighten with affection, “Right here. Cute, right?”

“Cute,” he manages to say as his mind automatically imagines it right there on your hip but the word comes out a little rougher than intended. He is let in on a little secret that only a few will be allowed to see. Perhaps, he’ll be the one who gets to be the very first to see it, or maybe the one who gets to be the closest.

You finish, wipe yourself, and wash your hands. Then once again, you are close to him but this time it is chest to chest. You link your arms around him, leaning close, “Perhaps I’ll get something that reminds me of that one time I hooked up with Joel Miller, my dad’s best friend.”

“Dangerous game you are playing,” Joel reaches down to graze the spot on your hip with his thumb. He is so into you that it is ridiculous, smirking as you bat your eyelashes at him and filling him with youthful energy that he remembers from crushes in his teenage days. The idea of you marking yourself for him has his head in a spin and has his cock stirring again.

“What can I say? I’m a brat,” you shrug with a grin and when you both hear your father shout at the TV again, you grin with your tongue in your cheek. Yes, you are.

“Oh, babydoll, you make me wanna kiss you,” he almost growls as he leans into you, eyes focused on your cute glossy lips as he tries to capture them despite knowing that he won’t be allowed to touch them.

“Nope, not the gloss,” you tease and gently push him away on his chest. When he tries again, you hold your hand over his mouth and he groans against your soft fingers like from not getting his way. You grin, eyes shining with affection, “Now get out so I can clean myself up. And don’t tell my dad about the tattoo.”

“Fine,” Joel gives you one last lingering look, squeezing your hip before pulling away. He leaves the bathroom reluctantly, stepping backward as he walks out the door to keep his eyes on. You roll your eyes at him without being able to stop smiling.

When he is out in the hallway again, he heads back down the stairs and into the living room. He pats the back of the sofa to make himself known in the room once more, startling your father slightly.

“There you are,” he says, watching Joel walk around the sofa, “What took you so long?”

“Got talking with your kid,” he answers as casually as he can muster. However, your father seems to be completely disinterested in whatever he has been doing upstairs.

“What? Oh, yeah. At least you got her to turn off that awful noise she calls music. Come on, you’ll miss the final run,” he says obliviously, and so Joel joins him in the chair opposite his couch to make sure he doesn’t smell how he probably reeks of sex.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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eomayas · 7 months ago

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his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive’, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

#svt imagines #svt smut #svt angst #vernon smut #vernon angst #vernon fluff #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #vernon x y/n #svt x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #hansol vernon chwe #chwe vernon

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zg0nuwa · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, hope you're fine...and i see that you're another fan for Miguel (we are) can you write the father day with his daughter and the reader as his wife please:(?....(i just hate my daddy issues)

★ best dad ever ! ⎯⎯

i don't think you understand how much power you just gave me with this (i had like half of this written already but tumblr crashed and i was one step away from going into my joker era)

miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings ; angsty fluff, i tried experimenting with the spanish but i feel like i failed miserably, lowercase intended, i'm not a spanish speaker so you're free to correct me on the spanish.

miguels work schedule was very unstable. there were times when he would be gone for the whole day and then there were times when he could spend most of the day at home. you understood, for the most part, he had the multiverse on his shoulders no matter how hard you wished for him to have a much less dangerous job. of course not everyone knew why he sometimes had to disappear for long periods of time.

and one of them was your daughter. all she knew was that " daddy does very important things and he has to go but he will always come back ".

this year, fathers day rolled up on a sunday which meant not only your daughter was home but also you. for your husband it was a little more complicated. he woke up in the middle of the night to a notification from lyla about another anomaly going nuts in the wrong universe. you loved the ai but in this particular moment you wanted to explode her with your mind.

" i'll be back before sunset, i promise " with that and a kiss on your forehead he left through the portal in your bedroom.

the next time you woke up that day was because of your daughter. she climbed onto your bed and started to shake you lightly with her small hands.

" mom? where’s daddy? " you opened your eyes to gabi hovering above you with her favorite plush animal pressed close to her chest. she had this disappointed expression on her small face. you knew it was because of miguel being gone. she planned this whole day for him, you even helped her organize everything.

" i’m sorry sweetheart… daddy had to go to work. " you pulled her in so her head was under your chin. she clung to you like a small koala bear as you played with her thick brown hair. definitely his genes.

" but, he promised he'll be back before your bedtime sooo, we can still make something special. what do you say about that? "

after a small argument about who gets the cooking part of preparations, which obviously ended with you being responsible for it, you and gabi got to work. as you were looking through your old mexican cuisine recipe book [ that you definitely didn’t bought only for miguel to feel more at home during meals ] you saw your dughter holding a box of artsy stuff.

" cariño, ¿qué estás haciendo allí? "

" making daddy a poster! it's going to say 'el mejor papa de todos'! " you couldn't help the big smile from appearing on your face. you knew how much time miguel put into teaching gabi spanish and it always warmed your heart when they sat down at the dining table and simply talked in spanish, your husband making little corrections in pronounciation or grammar from time to time. but no matter what he always looked as if he had hearts in his eyes.

★

you knew miguels work schedule was unstable and sometimes took him out of the house for a whole day, and you understood. but gabi not so much. so here you are, 10:48 pm on the clock and no sign of your husband. you spent the past two hours comforting her and promising her that it wasn't miguels fault and that he loved her. finally at around 11 pm she fell asleep in her bed. you turned off the cat shaped nightlamp and as quietly as possible closed the door to her room.

with a heavy sigh you went back to the kitchen to start cleaning everything up. while puting away food into the fridge you heard a specific glitching sound and you already knew who showed up home.

" you're late. " you weren't really mad at him , it was just tiring sometimes.

" i know, i'm sorry love... it's just - things got a little out of control. " you didn’t look at him and his first thought was to come behind you and hug your waist hoping it would make you feel even a little bit better. “ was there something that i forgot about today? is that why you’re angry? “

" i’m not angry, but your daughter is. she planned the whole fathers day for you. "

" ay, coño… " he sounded defeated, tired, and disappointed in himself. you pulled yourself away from him and came up to the poster gabi made, its was rolled in a tube to not spoil anything before the big reveal. you handed it to miguel with a tiny smile on your face. he was a bit confused for a second but he got the memo and rolled out the paper to it’s full extent. you could see the tears forming on his waterline as he chuckled. probably because of the spelling mistake made by gabi that you didn’t have the heart to point out.

" me and gabi made a deal for you, you have take us to the zoo tomorrow, and she demands that you let her piggyback the entire time to repay for your sins. "

" i guess there’s no other option. " he said with a smile.

cariño, ¿qué estás haciendo allí? - honey, what are you doing there?

el mejor papa de todos - the greatest dad ever

ay, coño - oh, fuck

#atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman atsv

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prettypinkporkchop · 3 months ago

Text

"Uhm, I'm not sure about hiring anyone without any experience yet." Jacob flips through your papers.

You just moved to Forks and need a job asap! You got a car and a tiny house but need income over here since you quit your old job back at home.

"I won't disappoint you." You plea. You couldn't find any good work in Forks, so you ended up in La Push. Someone directed you here. A mechanic shop owned by Jacob Black.

He looks at you, raising an eyebrow.

The room is stuffy. It's a small office inside the shop. You're sweating simply sitting there. There are tires hanging on the wall behind him. He has papers everywhere and a computer set up.

"I'll make a deal." He leans forward.

"Anything!" You reply. "I'm going to hire you for a hand that we don't need. You can give us the tools we ask for. Keep them organized and put up. You will ask customers what is wrong with their cars, write it down, relay the message to me, Embry, and Quil. Got that?"

You nod your head rapidly. Hell yeah! Easy!

"I'll only do that IF you help my dad at home. He's in a wheelchair and getting older. There's only a few days that our friend, Emily, can help. We'd like an extra hand. He's very kind. All you need to do is house chores." He leans back and opens his arms. "Deal?" He asks.

You're quite nervous about this. It seems too good to be true. At this point, anything. Anything to stay here.

"Yes! Yes! Uhm, when do I start?" You ask, smiling.

"I'll get my boys to train you tomorrow. Today, I want you to go to this address." He writes it down on a piece of paper. "If you need anything, you can call me, or..." He writes another number underneath. "My wife, Renesmee. Sometimes. I'm too busy to answer." You nod your head as he slides it to you.

"Thanks, Mr. Black!" You stand up.

He starts laughing and stands up with you. "Please, we are basically the same age. It's just Jacob. This will be the least professional setting ever." He opens the office door leading out to the shop.

"That's good to know." You giggle.

"Your pay will be sixteen an hour. Plus, whatever my dad pays you. See you tomorrow at eight?" He asks.

"Yes! I'll be here." You smile.

He gives you a thumbs up, and you make your way out. There are two cars in there and two guys working on them. One of them with curly brown hair stands up and looks at you.

"Who are you?" He smiles.

"Uh, y/n. I start tomorrow." You smile back.

"What?! Embry! Check it! We got a new coworker." He says across to the other car.

Embry stands up and looks at you. The pupils in his eyes seem to zoom in inside your mind. You see them dilate. You feel like you love him, but you've never met him. Maybe he's just hot to you? You mean, he is. You're not sure. He's just paused and then looks back at the other guy. They look at each other for a second, and then they both turn back to you.

"I'm Quil." He walks up to you and shakes your hand.

"Hey. Nice to meet you!"

Embry walks up to you as well. He's so damn tall. His eyes are boring into yours as of that's all he wants to do.. or can do. He seems stuck and in awe. You realize he likes you. You like him too.

"Embry. Embry Call." He shakes your hand.

"Hey. I guess I'll be working with you guys tomorrow." You smile up at him.

"You know about cars?" Quil asks.

"Nope! I'm a tool girl." You laugh and blush because it seems embarrassing.

"Huh. Well, okay. I'm glad you're here!" Quil replied. He walks back to the car he's working on.

"Where are you from?" Embry asks.

"I'm from (your home). I moved here a few days ago. I really have to go. Jacob sent me on a side quest." You start to walk away.

"What does he need?" Embry asks.

"I'm helping his dad." You call out and make it out to your car.

"Turn left." Your GPS says.

"Gotcha." You talk to her like a weirdo.

You pull up to this small house. It's quiet here. You step out and knock on the door. Within a minute, it opens. You see a smiling older man in a wheelchair.

"Jake just called and told me about you! Come on in." He moves to the side.

You step inside and look around. There are lots of native pieces on the walls. Even some blankets. It's absolutely stunning. "I'm Billy Black. I hope I can trust you." He chuckles and holds out his hand.

You shake it and smile at him. "I'm y/n. I promise you can trust me." You reply.

"Let me show you around."

After the small house tour, you guys are sitting in the living room, getting to know each other.

"Wow! You moved here of all places?" He laughs.

"I know, I know. I love the weather. Working her on the rez, it's so homey."

He nods his head and looks around on his walls. "Yeah, we are loving people. Did you get to meet Embry and Quil?" He asks.

You nod your head.

He scoffs with a smirk. "Them boys may be grown, but they still act like they're kids. Rowdy ones." The way he's speaking of them makes you feel more comfortable. "Alright, so, Emily, who is Sam Uley's wife. You'll meet them soon. She comes here every Wednesday and Sunday to do my laundry and dishes. I'm just getting too old. Renesmee helps, too, but she's one busy woman!" He laughs.

"Oh, I understand. I'm available any day you need me." He nods his head and looks back at you.

"I like you already. I hope you come often and I learn more about your life! You'll be great friends with our people, I already know it." He smiles approvingly.

You give him your number and head home. You start putting up your decorations to finish off your place. By 10 pm, you're in bed.

"Too hard?" Quil asks you.

He went over how he wanted the tool station organized.

You see the mess surrounding you but can't let it overwhelm you. "Yes." You reply.

"Tomorrow, we will go over the tools." He pats your back. He walks away, leaving you to it.

While organizing, someone sits on the ground next to you, setting a water bottle down in front of you. You see Embry smiling at you.

"Hey, Embry." You grab the water and start drinking it.

"Damn, it already looks better in here. You even put the lug nuts with their own sizes. Thank you, y/n!" He looks around.

"Imagine having to use Google for some of this stuff." You side eye him with an awkward smile.

He bursts into laughter. "Couldn't be you, huh?"

You sigh deeply and then lean back on a shelf. "It's hot." You groan.

"Come sit in the break room for a moment. If you ever need to, don't hesitate." He stands up, helping you up and bringing you into the empty room.

There's a fridge and a table. There's a big fan blowing, and the room is cool. "Yes!" You sigh and sit at the table. Embry sits down across from you.

You guys end up losing track of time and talking. No cars came through after the ones him and Quil worked on, so it was just the waiting game. You found out a lot about Embry's life, and you opened up as well. You two vibe very well.

Your phone starts buzzing. It's your alarm to go to Billy's.

"Well, thank you for talking to me. I have to go to Billy's." You smile and stand up. He follows behind you.

"Embry, are you single?" You ask.

He's digging in his pocket for some gloves. "I am." He responds.

"Would you want to hang out sometime?"

He looks at you (JUST LIKE GIF). "Yo, for real?" He asks, shocked. His face is so adorable, and you're confused as to why he is shocked.

"You do get hit on a lot, don't you?" You ask.

He smiles, looking down and shaking his head. "You're the first." He admits.

You feel so proud of yourself for asking him. That girl boss shit.

At Billy's, he's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, while you do the dishes.

"Billy, those aren't healthy for you." You face him.

"Eh, nothing truly is. I'm old. You might as well live it up until then." He laughs.

"Come on! You're not that old. I give you another twenty years." You wink at him.

"Oh, stop." He laughs and then chugs the rest of it down.

You finish up your job and sit next to him. "What do you want for dinner?" You ask him.

"I'll call in something." He pulls out his phone.

"No, sir. Let me cook it." You smile.

Billy is so kind and makes you feel safe. He's like a father figure to you. Spending the day with him yesterday, getting to know each other, and then all of this evening has been fantastic. You have told him all about your home life and what it was like. He's got a big heart. Cooking for Billy is the least you can do for his kindness.

"Oh, can you cook?" He looks at you.

"It's easy to read directions." You chuckle.

He laughs and then nods his head. "Go for it."

You ended up making something you both like. You two are sitting at the table and talking.

"Oh, so Embry and I, I think we're going on a date soon." You say to him.

He looks up at you, and his smile is wide. "Embry took a liking to ya?" He looks over your face.

"Yes. I really like him too." You reply.

"He's a good man. Known him and all of Jacob's friends all of their lives. There's a lot with our community. Our family and tribe run deep. We're like a very old tree with roots down to the earth. We are grounded together." He explains.

Before you can say anything, a young man walks in. Billy turns quickly and then laughs. "Seth Clearwater. You scared the hell out of me. What you got, bud?" He asks.

Seth looks at you with a confused face.

"I'm y/n. I work for Jacob and helping out Billy." You stand up to shake his hand.

He smiles and gladly takes your hand, "Awesome! Happy to have you here!" He turns to Billy.

"Sam wanted me to come grab those tanks of gas from you, Mr. Black." Seth explains.

You can't help but notice his shirt is off. He has a tribal tattoo on his shoulder. It's a beautiful design!

"Yes, they're in Jacob's old bedroom." He nods his head.

Seth walks away, and you look at Billy.

"Who is he to you?" You ask. "Family." He simply states.

You leave it at that, still curious if he's like a nephew or what. Seth comes back with two heavy tanks of gas. Like, they're huge. He's holding them effortlessly.

"Nice to meet you y/n! Embry has said something about you. I'm happy I got to see you." He says before going out the door.

You turn to Billy, who is chuckling. "Lucky girl." He mumbles.

The next day, after work and learning the tools, you are at home, taking a relaxing bath. Your phone is ringing ringing ringing. "UGH!" You lean over, wiping your hands on the clean towel and grabbing your phone. A random number. You answer it. "Hello?"

"Y/n, it's Embry! Sorry, I got your number from Jacob." He awkwardly laughs. Awe, how precious.

"No, it's okay, sweetie!" You laugh. You can sense that he's blushing hard on the other end of the line.

"When do you want to hang out? A date, actually. I'm taking you on a date." He says.

"Hmm. How about we go somewhere to eat! I trust you'd pick the best food." You laugh.

"You got it, beautiful. Tonight?" He asks.

"Perfect."

You're not sure whether you need to dress nice or casual. It's stressing you out! Okay, okay, how about this. You are dressed nice but not tooooooo nice. After getting ready, there's a knock on your door. You open it, and Embry instantly smiles at you, looking you over. You are full of butterflies.

"Y/n, you're perfect." He sighs. His eyes are like doe eyes as he stares with infatuation.

"Thank you, Embry." You blush.

At the restaurant, there's a live band. It's very nice inside and most people are dressed fancy. You feel confident in your outfit choice.

"For two?" The lady asks.

"Yes, ma'am." Embry replies.

You two follow her to a booth.

"Drinks?"

You ended up learning a lot about Embry's life as well as his friends and the people that surround him. There's some flirting but it's more of serious conversations.

Suddenly, the music calms down, and you see couples slow dancing. Embry looks at you and then smiles.

"Oh, no no. I'm not a dancer." You laugh awkwardly.

"Come on, y/n. Just one dance?" He smiles.

His smile is so damn cute. You can't turn him down. "Okay, fine!"

He stands up, grabbing your hand and leading you to the small crowd of dancing people. He pulls your body into his by your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and look up at him.

"I'm not a dancer either. But I'd be damned if I didn't take this chance to dance with a beautiful woman." He twirls you around.

----

"Embry! Oil change!" You call out, scribbling on your paper.

Embry is quick to step next to you. He looks at the customer, shaking his head. "Sup?" He says and then leans into you, looking at the clipboard.

You sit at your station, watching Embrys arm flex with every movement he makes. Jeez...

He glances up and sees you staring. He smiles at you.

You quickly look away and blush.

Quil walks up to you and nudges you. "You know he likes you a lot, right?"

"It's painfully obvious. I'm making it obvious as well." You look at the curly haired boy.

After a few hours, it's lunch break. Embry walks over to you and breathes in. "Do you want to go out to eat together?" He asks.

"Absolutely." You reply.

You two end up at a booth in a diner.

"Why are you staring at me all of the time?" He asks, smirking.

You roll your eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Call."

"You're coming to a bonfire with me Saturday. It's about our tribes history. You'll have fun." He says, taking a bite of his burger.

"Do I get a say?" You giggle.

"Yes.... but you have to come." He laughs.

You shake your head and smile.

----

"Billy, no. I'm not taking your money." You shove his two hundred dollars back into his hand.

"Please, do. You've been so good to me, and Jacob talks highly of you at work."

You sigh and rest your hand on your hip. "I'm here because I want to be. Not because I have to." You say.

"You'll get it one way or another." He smiles.

"Mhm, right, old man. Anyways, what's this whole bonfire thing Embry invited me to?" You ask, leaning on the counter behind you.

"Well, it's very important to us. We have the elders there and talk about our tribe." He looks over your face.

You feel bad! You have no idea why they're so accepting of you. You're a random who just moved here. Now, you're coming to something so special to their people? "I can't do that! I'll have to call Embry." You shake your head.

"You don't want to?" Billy raises an eyebrow.

"It's not that! I just feel like.. I can't be there. I'll be crashing the party." You giggle.

"You're a part of us now." He says and turns the wheels on his wheelchair, leaving the kitchen.

"Billy! What does that mean?" You call out and follow him.

"Ask Embry." He laughs.

You go home at 7:00 p.m. and message Embry like you have done the past few days.

You: Hey. Can I come over? I have questions.

Embry: yuh! You're welcome here anytime.

You drive to Embry's. You knock on the door.

"It's open!"

You open the door and see him sitting on the couch. His tribal tattoo is the first thing that catches your eye.

"You too? Seth has one." You point to his shoulder.

"We all do!" He smiles.

You sit next to him.

"Is everything okay?" He shifts his body towards you and runs a finger over your cheek.

It sends chills all over your arms. God, his lips. You think he notices because he starts blushing and smiling.

"Uh, well, uh, Billy said I'm a part of your family, now. I'm not sure what he meant." You say.

Embry bites his lip. "He sees you as family." He smiles.

-----

You walk inside the shop and see Quil and Embry wrestling. Jacob is watching with amusement.

You watch with a raised eyebrow. "Alright kids." You laugh.

They stop and look at you. Embry walks over to you and puts his hands in his pockets. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Embry." You reply.

The first car pulls in. A girl steps out, and you walk over to her with a clipboard.

"Hi ma'am! What's going on?" You smile.

She smiles back and sighs. "Well, my engine light is on. According to my boyfriend, I have an oil leak."

The guys get to working on the car, and you go inside the break room to breathe in cool air for a bit. You start to think about the bonfire. Why are you going?

"Think any harder your brain will fall out of your ear."

You see Embry walk in and sit next to you. "Sorry, I'm just confused." You giggle.

He looks over your face. "About what?"

"Why I'm invited to a bonfire that's important for your tribe."

"Trust me." Is all he replies with.

All of you start closing and cleaning up the shop. Embry sits beside you as you count all of the tools to be sure they're there.

You look at him and raise an eyebrow. "Need something?" You giggle.

"Nope." He smiles.

-----

You grab onto Embry's arm as you guys get closer to the group of people sitting around a fire.

"Don't worry." Embry kisses your cheek.

This makes you burn up and all giddy inside. Every problem just went away.

You guys get comfy on the logs. You see Seth, Billy, Jacob and his wife, Quil, and a lot of other people you don't know.

As Billy speaks, his stories play out in your head like a movie. The history is very important so you have to pay attention. And you do. You've soaked in every word.

After that, you and Embry sit on the back of his truck. He's sitting right next to you. You both swing your legs and talk, watching everyone.

"What'd you think?" He asks you.

"It was actually amazing! I mean, hell. It's really cool." You look at him.

His face looks serious. His hand reaches up and touches your cheek. He starts to lean in. You can feel his breath on you.

"So, you having a good time?" You two pull away from each other, and you see Billy smiling up at you.

"Thanks, Mr. Black." Embry says sarcastically.

"Just doing my job." He shrugs.

You laugh and step down onto the ground. "I am having a good time."

"What did you think of the legends?" He asks.

"Oh, it was amazing!" You reply.

"Has Embry told you?" He smirks at Embry.

"Billy." You hear Embry say sternly.

Billy raises his eyebrows. "Oops." He wheels away from the situation.

You turn to Embry. "Tell me what?"

----

You are back on the job. Jacob and Quil are working on an old truck. You put your bag down on the small table next to the door of Jacob's office.

"Hey, where's Embry?" You ask.

Jacob and Quil look up at you with an awkward face. "I'm not sure how to say it." Quil says.

You raise an eyebrow at them.

Jacob slaps Quil on the back of the head. "Don't make it sound like bro died." He sighs and then turns back to you. "He's not doing okay. He told us what happened."

You started to feel a lot of guilt. "I didn't mean to hurt him." You say.

"You're denying the bond. That actually hurts us." Quil says.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"When a wolf imprints and the imprintee turns down the bond, we have physical and mental pain." Quil clarifies.

"Look, it's up to you, but I do see the way you two look at each other. If you're sure about not wanting him, it's going to take a good bit for him to get back to Embry. Don't worry." Jacob adds.

You sigh and go to the small table. You pull put your phone and message Embry.

You: I never meant to hurt you. I just need time to collect myself. It's a lot stacked on me at once. I like you a lot. You're funny, kind, handsome. I'm not turning you down.

You put your phone back in your purse. Doing so, you feel papers. You pull them out and see its the money you tried to refuse to take from Billy. You shake your head, and then go to your station. You bend down and start cleaning the tools up. You organize them how you've had them, and when Quil or Jake call for a tool, you bring it to them.

After work is finished, you dust off your knees and start turning off lights, unplugging things, and then head to the office where Jake and Quil are.

"Y/n, here's your check." Jacob holds out an envelope.

You grab it and smile at him. "Thank you." You say. "Peace out. Goodnight." You say.

"Night!" They call out as you walk out of the shop.

Once you get home, you see Embry standing outside, leaning on your door. You quickly get out of the car and walk up to him. He's shirtless and has on shorts.

"What're you doing here?" You ask.

He seems out of it. It breaks your heart to see him like this. But damn his face and body.

"I just needed to see you for just a second." He look over your face.

You fall in love all over again when his eyes touch yours. You shudder and step closer.

"Did you get my text?" You cup his cheek.

His eyes light up, and he touches your hand that's on his cheek. This sends electricity through your body. You can tell he feels it too.

"I did." He replies.

"Come inside." You say, opening the door.

Embry follows you inside. You throw your bag on the couch and huff. You turn to Embry, who is watching you. "I want to be yours." You admit.

Your words snap something inside Embry. He softly grabs your face and kisses you. You're in shock by how good his lips feel. You fall into it and let your lips part for him. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your body against his. Because of that, he flips you guys around, pushing you against the door. His hand hits the door next to your head while the other hand grabs your waist. You feel the cold door on your back, seeping through your shirt.

You pull away, and he looks down at you. "I'm sorry if that was too much." He says awkwardly.

You shake your head. "It wasn't enough." You grab his hand and guide him to your bedroom. You shove him on the bed, and you two get to work.

----

In the morning, he's gone. You have to get to work.

You check your phone.

Embry: sorry baby. Patrol.

You get to Billy's house and set the money on the table. He looks at you sternly and sips from his coffee cup.

"Billy Black. Don't mess with me." You laugh.

He points to his neck and then at you.

"What?" You reach up and touch your neck. You reach for your phone, turning on the camera and seeing purple spots. "That's embarrassing." You sigh.

"It sure is." He laughs.

"Quiet, old man." You hiss.

"Hey, now!"

#twilight #embry call #jared cameron #jacob black #paul lahote #sam uley #twilight wolfpack #seth clearwater #quil ateara #leah clearwater #embry call x reader

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joelscruff · 2 years ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FOUR

previous chapters | kofi | ok babes, lemme preface this chapter by saying i'm not exactly sure how i feel about it. i wanted it to be longer and i wanted more things to happen but this week has simply been a clusterfuck for me and i wanted to at least get something out to you guys cause you deserve it. i hope yall like sexting and phone sex cause that's all this part really consists of, so if that's not your thing i'm sorry and i hope the next part will be more enjoyable for you. thanks for bearing with me 💕 chapter summary: joel is busy with work but that doesn't mean there aren't other things you can do without being in the same room. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation word count: 4.2k ao3

Now that you have Joel's phone number, it's ridiculously difficult not to text him constantly, especially considering he hasn't reached out since his first initial response. You'd replied to his first message with a heart emoji, something you'd almost immediately regretted but have had to come to peace with. You manage to keep yourself busy for most of the day, reminding yourself that he's at work and probably doesn't have time to be texting some shy and inexperienced college girl. It's not like you're in a relationship or anything; you've known the man for three days.

"Three days," you whisper to yourself, settled in your favorite spot in the backyard, near the pool. Three days and he already has his claim on you, the ghost of his touch still peppered all over your skin. You'd put on a bathing suit in case you decided to go for a swim, but also because you wanted an excuse to look at your body again, look at where his hands had been.

It's been so rare for you to ever look at yourself the way you do now, the way Joel has taught you to. You were almost ashamed of having a body to begin with, embarrassed by your legs, your breasts, and especially what lay inside your underwear. You'd been raised to view them all as taboo, despite them all literally being a part of you. The swimsuit you wear now isn't necessarily the sexiest thing, just a black one-piece you'd bought at the beginning of the summer with modesty in mind, but you find yourself feeling different in it, more confident. Mr. Miller likes this body. I like this body.

Your phone buzzes near your head and you scramble to reach for it, pushing your sunglasses down your nose and peering down at the screen. Disappointment floods you when you see it's just from your mom, but your eyebrows raise in curiosity when you read the contents of the message:

Will be home after your father. Don't tell him about Mr. Miller.

Your mother? Asking you to keep a secret? It's probably one of the most uncharacteristic things she's ever done; you have to read the message a second time to make sure you're understanding correctly. Why doesn't she want your dad to know? He was the one who'd attempted to defend Joel in the first place, wasn't he?

Almost like she knows you're going to question her logic, another messages comes in a few seconds later:

I will tell him on my own.

Interesting.

You swipe back to your "conversation" with Joel and feel your heart flutter at his one-word reply. God, you really are insatiable. You wonder what he's doing right now; lifting heavy things? Ordering people around? You certainly know that he's good at telling people what to do...

Your skin warms at the thought and you quickly shake it away, tossing your phone back into the grass and taking a few steps toward the pool. You plunge into the cold water just to soothe the hot ache you already feel between your legs.

Dinner is normal, although the secret hanging in the air between you and your mother isn't lost on you by any means. You definitely didn't get your ability at keeping secrets from her; she's flustered, quiet as she chews her meatloaf and awkwardly questions your father about his day. He doesn't notice anything is amiss though, just scarfs down his food and mutters something about paperwork before disappearing into his office.

"Why don't you want me to tell Dad?" you whisper as you help her do the dishes, watching as she scrubs a plate unnecessarily hard.

"Because," she hisses, eyes darting to his closed office door in the hallway, "Your father will want to ask him over for dinner again and I am not having a repeat of what happened last time." She makes a face at the thought of Joel's previous insult, "If we're going to help this man find his faith we have to take things slow, just like you said. I'll tell your father when the time is right."

You're at a loss for words at the way your lie has somehow already wormed itself into your mother's brain without a shadow of a doubt. She's genuinely convinced you're trying to do the right thing, turn Joel Miller into a God fearing Catholic. It makes you uncomfortable to think about how your lie has already gotten this deep; for a moment you briefly consider calling the whole thing off, changing the story, maybe even telling the truth.

And then your phone buzzes in your pocket.

"Whatever you say," you reply quickly, drying the last plate and backing away, "Um, I'm gonna go read in my room for a bit."

How was your day?

The text makes your heart positively soar as you flop onto your bed again like you had this morning, bringing your phone to your face and grinning like an idiot. He didn't forget about you.

boring. i missed you.

You don't care if you come across as clingy; it's how you feel. Your heart does stutter a bit when you hit send but all nervousness fades when he responds just as quickly:

Missed you too, angel.

You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat, heart pounding when his little speech bubble appears again to show that he's typing something else:

What did you do?

went swimming

What an image to put in my head.

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm. Your face falls however at his next message:

What did you wear?

You grimace, eyeing the ridiculously modest swimsuit hanging off your desk chair, still damp from earlier. Should you be honest or come up with a white lie, put a different image in his head? No, you've already lied enough for one day.

a one piece but i don't like it. it's not very me.

I'll buy you a new one. Tell me what you like.

He'd really do that? You bite your lip and weigh the options in your mind, thinking about the lingerie on those mannequins this morning, the things your roommates back at college wear. You want something you'll feel different in, something that makes you feel more like this sexy version of yourself Joel is helping you discover.

bikini. maybe pink or blue?

You got it. Maybe you can give me another fashion show.

You feel a surge of excitement, of intrigue. You'd wondered at the mall what kind of clothes Joel would want to see you in... he'd loved the dresses this morning - especially the white one - so you can't help but wonder what kind of swimsuit he'll choose for you. You're not completely sheltered; you know there are different types of bikinis. One of your friends had worn a micro sling bikini for Halloween last year as a part of her costume for a party she was attending - you'd taken one look and decided you weren't going.

Would Joel pick a bikini like that for you? The thought makes you feel a bit queasy, suddenly unsure if you'd even want to wear something like that. You want to look good for him but you don't want to sacrifice everything about yourself to do it. You stare at his message, wishing he wasn't just words on a screen right now.

where are you?

At a bar with my crew. But I'd much rather be wherever you are right now, babygirl.

You relax a bit into your sheets at the pet name; the word hasn't even come directly from his mouth but it has you acting like it has. Your body goes loose, that familiar throbbing starting up again in your underwear. You cross your legs and duck underneath the covers to type your reply:

i'm in my bed. i wish you were here

And what do you wish I was doing?

You stare at the text for a moment, biting down hard on your lip and trying to think of exactly how to articulate your thoughts in the best way. You've never done this before, never said or typed dirty things to somebody else. You figure texting is as good a medium as any to finally practice.

i wish you were playing with my pussy

The throbbing gets worse as you type the words. You cross your legs a bit tighter when you hit send, already nervous about what he'll say back. He doesn't waste much time.

You like when I play with your pussy, don't you?

Your cheeks warm as you sink even further beneath your blankets, legs parting slowly. You reach down to pop the button on your jeans, slowly typing out a response with one hand:

yes

The zipper of your jeans is down within seconds, your right hand carefully slipping past the open material and sliding down to cup where you're aching over your underwear. Your phone vibrates again and you hear a small whimper slip past your lips.

And you liked having those big fingers deep in there huh?

yes. it felt so good.

So full, right baby?

You circle your clit slowly with your index finger, mouth popping open at his words. The memory of the way his fingers felt inside of you, the way they'd pushed and prodded you so deep...

really full.

I'll do it again real soon, angel. Promise.

You whimper again, still tracing your pussy through your panties. Your brow furrows when the next message comes in a few seconds later:

I gotta head back now but I'll call you later. Stay up for me, don't fall asleep.

You frown. Oh well, you've gotten off without him a few times so far, what's one more time? You watch as the bubble indicating he's typing again pops up.

And don't touch that pretty pussy until I tell you.

Your hand freezes and you feel your lips turn into a pout despite the fact that he can't even see you.

"Meanie." you murmur at your phone, taking your hand out of your pants and tilting your head back to stare at your ceiling. You look down at the message again and can't help but feel your lips upturn; he's going to call you later... maybe meanie is too strong a word.

You prepare a little too much for your late-night phone call with Joel.

You take a long bath, soothing and relaxing with some lit candles and quiet music, all the while returning to your previous mental state of pretending you don't have anything between your legs. You're just a barbie doll down there, you tell yourself dubiously, there's nothing to touch or feel. That wishful thinking doesn't last very long however when you find yourself re-reading Joel's texts and feeling your pussy begin to pulse again under the water.

After your bath you comb carefully through your hair, counting each stroke to pass the time. You apply more lotion to your skin than you could ever need and then change into a pair of pajamas, just some simple sleep shorts and a t-shirt. You wonder what Joel would think of your old nightdresses, the ones you used to wear when you were a kid, still folded away in your dresser but probably much shorter and more revealing now. You take a quick peek at an old yellow one, lacy and faded; it practically smells of innocence and the bright eyed Jesus loving girl you once were, and you find yourself feeling sad. You shut it away again.

By the time you're freshly bathed and in bed your parents have already said goodnight and are settled in their bedroom down the hall. All you can do is lay back against your pillows and wait for Joel to call.

Nine o'clock passes; you decide to read for a little bit.

Ten o'clock; no big deal, you turn on the TV and quietly watch the beginning of a movie.

Eleven o'clock; you're about halfway into the movie now, feeling sleepy but still checking your phone every few minutes.

Twelve o'clock; the movie ends but you don't pay much attention to the conclusion, staring anxiously at your phone and waiting for it to light up. But still nothing.

It's almost one when you finally begin to face the reality of the situation. He never gave you a specific time, just said he'd call later, but how much later did he mean? Maybe he's already home now, in bed and asleep. He's probably forgotten that he even said he'd call. You're not that important. You're just some kid.

Tears well in your eyes when you finally turn off your bedside lamp and shuffle further beneath the covers, still staring at your phone. Please call, you think pathetically to yourself, or even text. Just do something.

You fall asleep with your phone gripped tightly in your hand.

You wake up to a light buzzing sound and sensation, your eyes squeezing together in confusion. You open them blearily and find yourself facing your bedside clock; 2:23am. It takes a few seconds for you to register that the buzzing is coming from your phone, and when you look down at the screen and see the name Mr. Miller, your eyes go wide. You answer it immediately.

"Hello?" you whisper, burying yourself under the covers again and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Hey, babygirl," he says softly on the other side, his southern drawl melting smoothly into your ear, "I wake you up?"

"Y-yeah," you mumble, still blinking your eyes and trying to get some alertness back, "Sorry, I know you told me not to fall asleep."

He chuckles and it's the most beautiful sound, charming and gentle, "That's okay, sweetheart. I got back much later than I thought I would, it's my fault," you hear him grunt a little bit, like he's settling onto his couch (or his bed?), "You stay up long waitin' for me?"

You bite your lip, "Um, maybe."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," he murmurs, "Poor thing, you must be so sleepy."

"M'not," you say, but your voice betrays you.

"Shh," he whispers, "You go back to sleep, we'll try this again tomorrow."

You try to sit up but you're still half asleep and the blankets are so warm and inviting, "No," you say quickly, "No, I wanna talk to you. I've been waiting."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, "God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he inhales deeply, "What I wouldn't give to have you in my bed right now, angel... all curled up and comfy in my arms."

You smile, eyes closing again as you settle back into the blankets and listen to his voice, "I want that." you murmur.

"I know you do," his voice is so soft and soothing in your ear, almost like a lullaby, "You want so many things with me, don't you?"

"Mm hm," you agree softly, "All of it."

"All of it." he repeats thoughtfully.

The line goes quiet for a moment, both of you just listening to each other breathe evenly. You know you should say something else, try and wake yourself up, but the longer you lie there with the phone to your ear the more tired you seem to be getting.

"Did you touch your pussy, babygirl?" he finally asks, voice still barely a whisper.

Your heart stutters, "No," you reply just as quietly.

"Good girl."

You hum at his praise, melting further into your pillow. You listen as he breathes slowly on the other end. You're starting to drift off again, you can feel it.

"I've got an early start tomorrow," he says softly, "But how 'bout I call you around seven or so, before I leave?"

"Yes," you whisper, "Please."

He laughs quietly, "Okay, sweetheart, you go back to sleep now," he exhales and seems to settle into his bed, just like you, "Sweet dreams."

"'Night," you mumble softly, leaving him to end the call as you fade quickly back to sleep.

You don't make the same mistake you made last night; you wake up promptly at six thirty and make sure you stay awake, washing your face and getting dressed for the day. You hear the shower going in your parents room and hope that miraculously both of them will have already left by the time Joel calls you.

No such luck. You can hear them both bustling around in the kitchen when your phone starts to buzz, and you quietly tiptoe back to bed and yank the covers up over yourself, hoping it'll muffle your conversation.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Mornin'", Joel replies; you can hear a smile in his voice, "Why are you whisperin'?"

You grimace, "My parents are still here."

"Ahh, the same parents who think I'm your guitar teacher, right?"

You bring a hand up to your face in embarrassment, "Oh my god, I forgot I told you that."

He chuckles, "So we're sneakin' around, huh? That what's happenin'? Is this gonna end with me gettin' shot?"

Your eyes widen, "I hope not!"

He laughs again, louder this time, "I'm kiddin', babygirl, don't worry. But you're an adult, you don't need their permission to see me."

"I know that, but as long as I'm under their roof they have rules, and I gotta follow them. Plus..." you make a face, "My mom doesn't like you."

He snorts, "Yeah, I figured."

"I kind of told her that um... that I'm... well..."

"What?"

"That I'm teaching you about God," you close your eyes, feeling your skin burn, "That you borrowed my hymn book and you're gonna help me learn how to play some of them."

There's complete silence on the line after you speak and for a moment you're scared he's hung up. You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen; the call is still active. You bring it back up and he finally says something.

"Jesus, you're naughty," he mutters, voice suddenly dark, rough, "Lyin' about all that, just to see me?"

You swallow, "Y-yeah."

"Naughty," he repeats, "Naughty girl."

Another beat of silence. Then-

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes."

"Take off your panties."

You don't need telling twice, you're already throbbing just from hearing his voice change. You hold your phone against your ear with your shoulder and make quick work of hiking up your dress and tugging your panties down your legs.

"They're off," you whisper, voice shaky.

"Rub your clit," he says immediately, and you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt jangling on the other end, "'Til your pussy's all wet."

Is he...? He must be. You swallow tightly and do as he says, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on the fact that he's most certainly touching his cock right now while he talks to you. Getting wet isn't much of a challenge; as soon as your finger touches your clit you can already feel yourself start to drip.

"I'm wet." you whimper, rubbing your clit slowly.

"Already?" his voice is almost pained.

"Is it...is it weird that I get wet so easily?"

"No," he says immediately and you can almost visualize him shaking his head, "No, it's good. It's just 'cause you're so new to all of it," he groans, low and husky, "Fuck, I can't get enough of you."

You whimper again at his words, rubbing yourself a bit quicker and biting down on your lip. You can still hear the dull sounds of your parents from the kitchen below; you have to be quiet.

"Put a finger inside," Joel murmurs on the other end of the line, rough and scratchy, "Deep as you can go."

You bite down on your lip harder as you carefully push your index finger inside yourself, brow furrowing at the sensation. It's certainly nothing like having Joel's fingers in there and you immediately want to add another one, get that full feeling back.

"Push it in and out," he continues, "With me now, in..." you hear a dull slap, "And out," you follow along, eyes becoming hooded as you listen to what is most certainly Joel jacking himself off, "In....and out..."

He's pretending he's inside you. The thought alone is enough to make you moan, and you have to bring your other hand up to cover your mouth as you fuck yourself along to his pace. You add a second without being asked, whimpering pitifully into the phone and spreading your legs wider.

"Oh, babygirl," he whispers, "Those sounds you make..." he groans, low and deep, "Two fingers now, sweetheart."

"I'm already using two," you admit, still pumping them in and out; he groans again, even louder.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, "Three then, baby. Add your third, that's it." You hear another slap of skin and the sound is enough to make your orgasm begin to build in your belly. You wish he was here with you, holding you, touching you.

"I wish you were inside me," you find yourself whispering, voice shaky and pathetic.

He groans again, "Which part of me, sweetheart? My fingers?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Say it."

"Your cock," you whimper, chest heaving as you feel yourself getting closer and closer, "I want your cock inside me."

"Fuck," his voice is even deeper in your ear, almost like he's right there next to you, "I know you do, angel. Want it so fucking deep, don't you?"

You nod ferociously despite the fact that he can't see you, plunging your three fingers in and out steadily and feeling your legs begin to shake, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "I need it."

"You do need it," he groans, "You need this cock, babygirl. Can't believe you never had one before, can't stop thinkin' about it," the slapping is getting faster, louder.

"I wanted it so bad last night," you keen, eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, "And when you didn't call, I thought maybe-"

"Oh, babygirl," he groans, "Don't think like that, don't ever-" he lets out a deep grunt, almost like a whimper, "Don't think for one second that I don't think about you, about that pussy. Can't wait to be inside you. Gonna fuck you so good, so right," he grunts, his voice becoming more and more strained, "Gonna be so deep inside that sweet little hole, you're gonna feel it in your fuckin' stomach."

Holy fuck. He's never talked this much before, never said things this filthy or graphic. It's too much for you to handle all at once, pussy tightening around your fingers as his words bring you over the edge.

"I'm coming," you manage to squeak out, then slap your hand back down on your mouth as you shake and writhe under the blankets, moaning pitifully into your hand and praying your parents don't hear you.

Joel doesn't tell you he's coming but the slapping sound suddenly comes to a complete stop, and the next thing you know he's groaning loudly in your ear, breathy and rough. You listen to him, closing your eyes and letting his sounds invade your whole body as you come, wrapping around you like another warm blanket. You've never heard him make sounds like this, depraved and guttural and loud. You can only imagine what he looks like right now, what his cock looks like. You know what happens when men come, you know about ejaculation, but the thought of Joel doing that... right now...

"Mmmhmmm," you moan into your hand and feel your eyes roll back, picturing Joel laying in his bed, hand around his cock, "Oh...fuck..." you fuck yourself with your fingers until it's too much, until the sensations are borderline painful. You move your hand away from your pussy and squeeze down on your thigh, trying to get your legs to stop shaking.

There's a few moments of heavy breathing where neither of you speak, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to catch your breaths. You open your legs wider and lay there like a starfish, eyes closed, chest heaving. You hear the door slam downstairs, followed by the sound of your father getting in his police car and your mother getting in her SUV.

"My parents just left." you mutter, still breathless.

Joel chuckles softly, "Think they heard you?"

You shake your head, "No way, they'd have already broken down my door if they had any idea what's going on up here."

He laughs again, "Hold on a sec, let me clean myself up here a bit."

You can't help but smile at the image of Joel being vulnerable like that, having to clean up his own mess instead of yours. You shiver at the thought and slowly sit up in bed, body heavy and sated.

"That was... a lot," you say softly, still trying to even out your breaths, "All that... that stuff you said."

You hear the concern in his voice immediately, "Was it too much?"

"No," you say immediately, shaking your head, "No, not at all. I just..." you feel your cheeks burn, "I wasn't expecting....I didn't realize how much you thought about doing that."

"Doin' what?" you can almost hear his smirk.

"...Fucking me," you whisper it, even though your parents are gone, "Putting your...putting your cock in me."

He groans again, softer this time, "I'll be honest, darlin'. It was all I thought about yesterday at work. And it's all I'm gonna be thinkin' about today."

You shiver, lips turning up in a pleased smile, "Really?"

"Really, sweetheart. And I know we're takin' it slow, and that's okay, but fuck if I don't think about how that pussy's gonna feel around me..." he groans again and you feel the undeniable sensation of yourself getting wet again; insatiable.

"What if...what if it doesn't fit?" you ask quietly, unsure just like yesterday, "I know you said we'll make it fit but..."

"It'll fit," he reassures you tenderly, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll go real slow, I'll be real gentle, and you just take it," he takes a breath, slow and steady, "You were made to take it, babygirl."

You hear yourself whimper softly, closing your eyes and turning your head into your pillow. God, you could listen to him talk to you like this for hours, just telling you everything he wants to do to you, everything he wants to teach you...

"When can I see you again?" you whisper.

"Well, that's what we need to figure out now, isn't it?" you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "When are these guitar lessons gonna take place?"

You wince, sitting up a bit in bed and leaning back against your pillows, "So you're okay with that? With me lying, I mean?"

"If that's what you feel you need to do, then it's okay," he says, and you can tell he means it, "I will probably have to actually teach you some guitar, though."

"I don't mind," you reply with a smile, remembering the way his hands had felt on yours when he'd first shown you those chords, the way you'd settled between his legs and he'd held you so close to him, "...As long as you teach me in your bed."

"Fuck," he murmurs, voice going dark again, "You are a naughty girl, aren't you?"

You can't help but smirk, "It's starting to seem that way, yeah."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: feelings on fire

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sketches4mysw33theart · 7 months ago

Text

Dead Poets Society: Some Thoughts and Analysis

Essentially a stream of consciousness I had while rewatching the movie today. In chronological order as I was making notes!

✒️ Charlie talks so much with his eyebrows

✒️ Todd is tasked with taking minutes of the meetings, but I don't believe we ever see him actually do so (although it would have been nice if he did)

✒️ Cameron looks so much like a fisherman when he's smoking his pipe

✒️ Cameron's distaste for Charlie (and often for the rest of the boys) is evident super early on (e.g. when they walk out of Mr Keating's first class and Cameron says "do you think he'll test us on that stuff?" And, when he gets shut down, he throws a very angry look at Charlie and the poets. This happens several times, but as far as I remember we never see Cameron retaliate.) From this, while I don't like it, I understand why Cameron did what he did at the end of the movie because I think he felt undermined by the others and he was considered 'useful' and 'smart' for the school

✒️ Also, I do not accept that Cameron's name is Richard Cameron, he's pulling a Zendaya and goes by one name only

✒️ Mr Keating looks so disappointed in Charlie when saying "Thank you, Mr Dalton, you just illustrated the point"

✒️ I think Knox kissing Chris at the party, while somewhat gross, is necessary to show that Carpe Diem isn't always the right thing to do, as is Charlie putting the article in the paper - i think maybe Chris not ending up with Knox would have hammered this home, especially because she seems perfectly happy with Chet. Of course, Chet's response to what happened at the party isn't fair, but it is definitely what I can see a teenage boy on the high school football team in the 50's doing. Don't choke on the bone, Knoxious!

✒️ Is Charlie trying to get thrown out of school? With the article in the paper stunt, he must have known how serious the repercussions would be, so maybe already he was considering getting out of school because he felt it wasn't the right path for him

✒️ "You made a liar out of me, Neil" - Mr Perry, I hate you

✒️ Did all of the poets, minus Neil and Knox, really squeeze into Keating's car?!

✒️ Neils little face when he comes out of the curtain, and how quick it falls when he sees his father - he's like a little kid showing a finger painting to a parent who insults it, he just wants his Dad to be proud of him

✒️ Mr Keating's face when Neil drives away after the play - I think he had an idea what was coming

✒️ That zoom in on Neil's face when his father's saying "more of this acting business, you can forget that"- he knew, then, that his dad would never change and what he was going to do

✒️ I want the doorknobs in the Perry house, specifically Neil's

✒️ The first time I watched this movie, I was so on edge when Neil was standing in front of the open window, thinking he was going to jump, and when he didn't I was like 'phew', and then the thing happened and my blood sugar spiked way up

✒️ Mr Perry saying 'my poor son' - i don't know, it rubs me up the wrong way, he has a name, he is not simply an extension of you

✒️ Cameron isn't there when the poets tell Todd what happened to Neil

✒️ The lingering image of Charlie with a tear down his face is so beautiful

✒️ Knox just clinging to Todd in the snow

✒️ The comparison between the deleted scene of Neil and Todd running lines by the lake when it's sunny and Todd running towards the lake screaming Neil's name 💔

✒️ Similarly, the comparison between Todd not wanting to speak at all in the meetings, and then the deleted scene where he reads a poem after Mr Perry takes Neil away

✒️ Charlie not singing during Neil's assembly

✒️ Ave means farewell in literature, and Charlie closing his eyes when it's sang is beautiful

✒️ Charlie carries on smoking when Cameron's coming into the attic meeting - he either knows it's Cameron or doesn't care who tf catches him doing anything bad anymore

✒️ I don't think Cameron ever actually 'believed' in Mr Keating, definitely not to the extent the others did - he never called him captain, for example, except when he realised everyone else in the common room was, and air quotes the word 'captain' in the attic. So, it raises the question why he went along with everyone even so?

✒️ While I do somewhat sympathise with Cameron, that is one of the most satisfying punches in movie history

✒️ I think Todd's parents weren't that different from Neil's, Todd's dad is clearly very authoritarian from the minute or so he's on screen (and the fact that Todd signs the paper) and his Mom says nothing in his defense, but the way Todd mouths 'Mom' breaks my heart

✒️ In what universe does acting = what Neil did? All those theatre kids and their evil, satanic rituals, forcing our kids away from school 🙄 I hate you, Mr Perry and Mr Nolan

✒️ Todd's the last one to stand up when Nolan walks into Keating's classroom

✒️ Mr Nolan complimenting Mr Pritchard's introduction is so ridiculously funny to me considering what Keating made them do to it

✒️ Mr Keating's smile to Todd through the door in the classroom has the same energy as "All my love to you poppet. You're going to be alright."

In conclusion, I adore this film.

Robin Williams, O Captain, My Captain 🫡❤️

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botchedsundoll · 27 days ago

Note

very nice way of writing, I would like to make a request for a writing where the RE guys react when their partner asks them for a baby, they misunderstand it but their partner was talking about adopting a kitten, puppy or any animal, but they don't understand it until be a little late.

L. KENNEDY, C. REDFIELD, C. OLIVEIRA X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; can we have a baby? hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; very very very slightly suggestive

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; stair master is not 4 the weak, this is such a cute prompt!!! keep them coming, wuit nic cold turkey yiiikkkeeesss will i powerr thru yes i will

C. OLIVEIRA

surprisingly the most on board

but don’t get me wrong, he WILL be surprised - i’m talking eyes wide, lips parted as he simply stares at you for a moment

before simply asking an ‘are you sure?’

he’s a family man - you could say his dream was to start a family with you and have little rascals running around which resembled the pair of you

and so he simply grins, wraps his arms around you and latches his lips onto your neck - murmuring something about getting started already

‘getting started with what? carlos, i mean a damn pet!’

‘… a pet? even fuckin’ better!’

he’ll literally be more excited about the animal than the ‘kid’ - though he’s not opposed to having one by any means. would like to, actually

L. KENNEDY

eyes wide, jaw slack

literally just stares at you - blinking every so often whilst he processes the absolute out worldly request you’d made

don’t get me wrong, he loves you deeply. but a kid? he’s convinced you’d be a great parent, yet less convinced whether he’d be even good as a deadbeat

just imagine - leon sat there with his hands on his knees, jaw clenched, gripping the material as his mind wanders whilst you’re just sat there confused as hell as to how such a question could evoke so much emotion

‘… okay, if that’s what you want. but seriously, i don’t think im cut out for all the dad shit, i don’t want to disappoint you-’

‘leon, i mean a pet’

oh. his eyebrows furrow in confusion at your words, considering how convinced he was you wanted a kid.

he gets a little embarassed. he loves you dearly and wants nothing more to start a family with you, just can’t help but doubt his abilities at being able to do so. reassure him a lil, he’ll come around eventually

C. REDFIELD

definitely asked halfway throughout dinner

instantly stops chewing, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he simply stares at you

at this point, it’s been accepted by the whole fandom that he deffo has a breeding kink LMAO so like he’s not necessarily opposed to the idea - just rather confused by the suddenness of the question

you’d never expressed the slightest mention of wanting kids in the past, no baby videos, clothes, or anything

safe to say he’s a bit disoriented - and straight to the point

‘you wanna have a kid? now?’

‘no, i mean a pet. like an animal.’

okay so now he just embarrassed himself. mutters something about you not being specific enough before continuing on with his meal - not even answering the question anyways

you’ve now put the idea of a kid into his head. and once he feels comfortable enough with his job and everything else, he may or may not start hinting at a kid himself

#ೃ⁀➷. olka’s bs #carlos my goat #chris in re5 is so fine omg #resident evil 4 #resident evil 3 #resident evil 5 #resident evil #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #chris resident evil #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy

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solestixx · 8 months ago

Text

1- lukas matsson x reader

word count ≈ 6600

warning: smut and mid writing

____

“Ken- you know this isn’t my scene.” Your voice goes quiet, simply just peering at your brother, anxious for his reaction.

He’s been a bit of a pain in the ass lately, the whole family was a pain in your ass lately, but perhaps it was always this way. The Roy family created chaos and unnecessary drama, that was a given. It was something you tried to detach yourself from; the business, the craze, the constant chatter– it all drained you. From the moment you were born, it was as if your family was screaming from all sides whether it be Roman and Shiv fighting over shit all, or your dad blowing up in your faces.

You always knew that you didn’t fit into the puzzle. You were born a little bit too late, grew up with faint glances of your older siblings, and dismissed like the baby you were. Maybe that was the reason you never considered joining Waystar, or perhaps why a place was never offered.

Your dad was your dad, perpetually disappointed in you – while at the same time maintaining that you were his favourite. You all knew it was Shiv, but the very fact he insisted that it was you made you villain number one to your siblings.

So there you were, their little sister who was a fucking writer, twiddling with your ungroomed thumbs, waiting for your family to forget who you were. That being said, it was a surprise when you opened your email to find a very flashy invite to Kendall’s 40th. You didn’t think that your brother would want what he perceived as his Debbie Downer boring little sister at his grandiose douche fest.

“Come the fuck on, it’s my party, Bambi, cheer up, enjoy yourself for once,” Kendall says. “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere special.” As he’s about to leave, you stop him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Wait, Ken. I have a gift for you.” You hand him an envelope, “I didn’t want it getting lost in the mix.”

Kendall stops with his buzzing, which is probably coke-induced and takes the envelope from your hands. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you sigh as you watch your brother tuck the envelope into his coat.

He quickly puts a hand on your shoulder before he starts to navigate you around, waving and fistbumping his friends walking by. As quickly as you had gained Kendall’s attention, it faded away from you, as he yelled over at his assistant who seemed new, but you weren’t around enough to know. “Yo! Comfrey, ship up my little sis to the treehouse.”

His assistant – Comfrey, who you knew had definitely been speed walking away from her boss before he hollered out at her – whipped her head towards the both of you. You were the odd couple, Kendall’s glazed over eyes and dopey smile mixed with your grimacing under his touch. “Coming!”

Kendall gives you a pat on the head– a move he often did in childhood, his eyes dead as always as he gives you a good-enough smirk, “You should avoid the other sibs, they’re strictly business right now – serious work only.”

You smile at his unconscious insinuation. You weren't a serious person to them. You weren’t anything you guessed, “Have fun, okay Ken? And try not to be a complete dick tonight,” you ask before Comfrey pulls me away and Kendall saunters off.

You watch your brother from the corner of your eyes, and quickly try to keep up with the bouncing ponytail of his young assistant. The hollowness in your chest that used to exist – that there would be ten years ago – had disappeared now, you were completely okay with the empty promises and empty phrases.

It’s what you grew up on. Raised in the top two floors of the highest buildings in New York, the Scottish highlands with your father’s forgotten castles, or in sprawling ranches in the middle of nowhere for tax purposes. At least that was the childhood you had with the Logan Roy experience.

After Uncle Ewan’s wife passed away, when you went to her funeral with your whole family, Dad decided that he’d leave his youngest with his brother to build your character. Your siblings were already almost in college and you were, well, the youngest and still complaining about multiplication and school field trips. So, from then on, you distanced yourself. Not entirely by your own volition, but every decision after was. And you prayed that every decision following would be as well.

As you try to keep pace with the taller woman, “So Comfrey, how’d you become Kendall’s assistant?”

The woman turns around for a second to get a glance at the youngest Roy, she presses her lips together before curtly responding, “I’m his PR rep.”

All you do is hum in understanding, she was a PR rep that was running around like a low-level worker bee trying to satiate her older brother. It was like all people in their lives.

You pass by the flashing lights, tall glass windows, and strange art installations, not so much admiring them, more like begging to just dissolve into the floor. To melt like the witch in the Wizard of Oz would be your opus, your ooey-gooey pile of person simply having a hard time leaching onto the rich person floors.

When you spot the all-too-familiar treehouse you wince. It seemed that Kendall’s childhood trauma manifested in an exuberant part of his fortieth birthday party. “This is Kendall’s little sister, she’s cool.” Comfrey motions the guards behind her, as you stand awkwardly – it looked like they needed visible confirmation you were you? It took them a second for their heads to look at your orientation.

While they make way for you, opening up the roped fence, you thank Comfrey, then watch her scatter away, and hurry away probably to clean up Kendall’s inevitable fuck-ups.

She was nice enough, you guessed; could be worse.

You wandered through the treehouse with no purpose, staring at the tree trunk columns that looked borderline tacky and its leaf-casted shadows on the walls. You weren’t alone in the room, no there was a boatload of Kendall’s rager hedge fund friends, or celebrities whose faces you remember enough to dart away from – but still, you were alone. You felt eyes on you, people knew that you were a Roy, but eyes don’t give you company.

The space was large enough to walk around for a few minutes, but eventually, you assumed you just looked out-of-place. Pacing around like a failed dracula, circling his already knowing victims. So you resigned yourself to a couch near a wall, praying that nobody approaches you. At least you wouldn’t be sneak-attacked from the back. That was your worst fucking nightmare – a hand on your back and a networking LinkedIn smiley techie.

Leaning into the couch’s thin leather you try to get comfortable. The lights were bright enough you hoped, to not ‘ruin the vibe’ with your phone’s obnoxiously bright screen. Staring at your home screen, you forget any work that you had to do – literally nothing of importance that would make you look like you were doing something. Yes, you were writing a screenplay right now, which would be a good thing to work on if you could concentrate in the noisy fucking room. So you just went on Candy Crush, your finger languidly swiping your high school iPhone wanting to shoot yourself.

You spent an adequate amount of time doing that, getting cozy enough to tuck your feet under your body and let your hair out from the bun it was in. It felt okay, you still wanted to go home, but you were waiting until at least ten percent of the crowd was gone so Kendall wouldn’t get prissy.

But you couldn’t keep the peace, of course, you couldn’t. Because there Kendall comes into the room, not looking for you, but for a man sitting on one of the benches in the middle of the party.

“There he is!” You internally shrink, like a deflated balloon as your brother approaches. You hide like you were habitually doing as a child, trying to dart off from where you were oh-so comfortable. You hear Kendall saying some other bullshit which you tune out in your panic, but as you’re set to leave he calls out your name.

“Bambs!” He turns to the man next to him, “This is my sister– she isn’t a vulture like the other ones, don't worry about that.” He looks back at you, then at the man again, “She’ll take care of you, they avoid her like a fucking plague.”

“Really nice, Ken,” you say, walking towards them reluctantly, resigning to sit next to the blonde man. He was tired-looking with hardly-noticeable but still visible rings underneath his eyes, a small smirk of interest on his face as he doesn’t shuffle to give you space, instead moving closer to you.

Kendall leaves, for a reason you are unsure of. You try to stare in his retreating direction as you feel the stranger’s hot eyes on you. You couldn’t read this guy, he seemed like a regular dude at first glance and to your relief he didn’t seem crazed in the eyes or serial-rapey.

“You’re the youngest one, aren’t you? The recluse?” he asks, his accent isn’t American, it was something Nordic – you hadn’t met many of them in your life.

You turn towards him, to be polite of course, although your body tries to twist awkwardly, making sure he isn’t too close, “Good use of deduction.” He’s attractive, vaguely familiar like everyone in the room, obviously important to your brother, but you still have no fucking clue who he is. “And you’re? One of my brother’s friends?”

He smirks, laying back on a column behind him, “Yeah, we’re best buddies, like peas and a pod.”

“No name?” He laughs, like he was in disbelief that you didn’t know who he was, “I like this, I’ll be your mystery man, hmm?” He leans further towards you, raising his eyebrows – the lack of space making your face hot.

You try to escape any feelings of chagrin, crossing your legs, and staring into his eyes which felt like it was more of his soul. Who was this fucking dude? “A mystery man in my childhood treehouse, you’re sounding like a pedophile to me…”

He nods as though he agrees, laughing, “You have a history in this, I assume, with your family.” Oh yes, Uncle Mo. “What do you do? The tabloids say… writer?”

A part of you feels insecure in your lack of knowledge about him. He knows your occupation, your name, and would probably be able to trace your life back to childhood through the internet, while you sat here like prey for his predator. All in his casual clothing and wolfish smile.

“Yes, some screenwriting, some things more authorial, enough to get by.”

It seemed like the idea of ‘getting by’ was amusing to him as he smiled when you said that. Almost as if he was in disbelief that a Roy would ever need to make enough to get by. Maybe he was older money, maybe he grew up in a big castle like you, a prince or something… your mother had always had people like that over when you were young. It was funny, the old aristocrats with their wine and screaming kids. No he wasn’t old money... his whole being read new. New money. New power.

“You dress like you write children’s books, like a sexy-librarian-kindergarten teacher – it’s hot, if I dare-say,” he says. You can feel him looking her up and down and she doesn’t know if you hate it or like it. You may be leaning to the latter with how lonely you’d been feeling for so long.

You almost roll your eyes, although your face heats up. How long has it been since someone somewhat complimented you? Sure they called your writing good, praised you in those magazines– no journals they called them, but nobody ever looked at you. Even if it was a half-insult.

You did dress conservatively, at least to control the narrative of yourself. Stemming mostly from when the paps took pictures up your skirt as a teenager. They weren’t even decent enough to wait until you were eighteen, the moment the vultures saw that you wore a short-enough skirt they chased you around trying to get a glimpse of the most elusive Roy sibling; the paps were constantly chasing a story, and for the duration of your childhood you were the most interesting part of the billion-piece puzzle belonging to the Roy family.

Without any response, he moves even closer, if that’s humanly possible – your arms pressing up against each other. He was warm, warmer than the stuffy room around the two of you, “Trying to insinuate something, mystery man?”

“Ja, maybe I am,” he says, before leaning close to your face. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” He offers you a hand to get up, which your body wills you to take, but your brain knows logically any man your brother wants to woo is a douche, yet you’d always think with your feelings. He pulls you through the treehouse, walking into more of a secluded room.

You feel people watching you, more than before, more than they would the youngest Roy, but his hand feels so warm in yours, and he was even more attractive standing up. Taller than your smaller stature – you were the shortest of your siblings along with the youngest, the baby. It felt nice walking next to him, it felt safe. But still, it felt almost dangerous.

You breathe out a thank god as the two of you get off of the wooden bench and your butt touches a soft surface again. It’s more secluded than your spot before but like every corner of the party, there were still people around you.

“Not a fan of crowds?” he asks, getting comfortable on the couch and leaning back as you feel his hand rise slowly on your thigh. Like he’s apprehensively confident.

“Is anyone really?” you ask him, he nods slowly, his eyes asking me to go on, “I don’t know why I’m here, maybe just feeling shitty about my family situation, you know? I don't spend much time with them… ever.” You eye the man as he intensely looks back at you – eyefucking you believe it’s called. Oh and his eyes are blue, you’d never noticed that before — remarkably they’re not empty, the soul was still there, at least right now. You have to admit that he’s hot, in this light even more so. His features affirm my suspicions of where he’s from– and as you stare at him even longer you can't quite remember when you’d ever seen a hotter man. “Do you still have no name?”

He grins, looking away, “You’ll know soon enough, won’t you? This is fun for now.”

“The only name I know you by is pedophile, and I don’t think you want people overhearing. Seems like we have eavesdroppers,” you glance over at the small groups of people around you. You assume that they’re small investors, that they probably know Kendall and whatever business he has with the mystery man.

“You’re right, my facial expressions plus my conversation are very relevant to the stock market and usually equals tanking.”

“You talking to me will probably tank it, whatever stock you’re talking about—“ you stop yourself from continuing, would Dad be mad that you were talking to him? “You’re not part of Kendall’s crusade, right? Like my father won’t try and assassinate me for speaking to you?”

It’s almost like he enjoys that notion as he laughs to himself, “Don’t worry about Kendall, your dad hiring a guy maybe, but right now I’m to be courted.” He gestures with his hands – which to you are strangely very animated, “You care about what your dad says, do you?”

You respond nonchalantly, though your hands squirm and you look to the ground, “It’s a constant fuck him, and at the same time I love you, Daddy, I guess. He was shit, is shit, but sometimes he’s not too bad.”

“You call him daddy?”

For the second time today, you feel yourself crawl into your skin, “Oh yeah, when we’re in bed together definitely.”

Mystery man almost giggles at your comment, and there’s something affable about that. He was constantly switching from this serious man to a very unserious one. There was some strange part of this that you liked, you liked the attention the way that he looked at you, the bubble he created around the two of you, the way his hand was increasingly inching.

You think back to the way this night started. You were quite desperate to leave, a bit dampened by the way Kendall accepted your gift, and guilty that you weren't at home taking care of your cat and working. Then you were delivered by this tall Viking man and you were uncomfortably comfortable with the way he made you feel.

“I kind of want to get drunk.”

“I have no qualms with that,” he responds, a grin on his face as you both get up and inch towards the bar, his hand slipping onto your back easily.

The time at the bar was spent in easy conversation, you stand against the wall, with him looming in front of you as you drink together. Him a beer and you a drink with a name you’re unsure of – hating yourself for so much enjoying the tang of the liquified poison.

“Why aren’t you part of your family’s business?”

The way he looks at you… you feel like there’s genuine interest, you look into his eyes and there’s a gleam that scares me. Was he playing with you? Was this a play for your family? You still have no clue who this man is. You let him get too close to yourself, hand on your waist – eyes on yours, too close for a stranger. But you just want to be happy, to feel like you exist again. Not a fly on the wall, the main course.

“You know,” you shrug your shoulders, taking another sip as he just looks at you with a weird facial thing that you don’t quite understand. Like he’s teasing you, but ever so slightly, begging you to spill – which you do. “I’m the baby, y’know – Bambi or whatever.”

He tilts his head back as he absorbs, “Bambi… I like that, you look like a Bambi – the deer right?”

“Yes the deer, they–” I hurriedly take another sip of my drink as I recount the story of my ubiquitous nickname, “Once Dad went hunting and brought me along, we spotted a deer and instead of uh– killing it I kind of ran towards it, while his gun was still aimed. He said that he was about to shoot me like I was a Bambi, he said I was so fast that he almost pulled the trigger while watching me through the scope.”

Mystery man looks at me with wide eyes, “Jesus fuck, that’s a shit thing to say. How old were you?”

“Uh maybe ten, by then my siblings were gone and he visited me where I lived with Uncle Ewan in Canada.”

“What a fucking prick.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a minute, him in front of you and you below him, you really like his eyes. You break it though, your head was starting to spin from the one drink and he was making it almost worse. “Come on, let’s go sit down, I’m gonna get stumbly.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you walk towards an empty space with a few chairs around a table and plop yourself down. Curling into yourself, you can just feel him situating himself next to you.

“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you? You look like one too,” he says, taking a swig of his still-almost-full beer.

You glare up at him as you start dozing off, “I’m gonna nap, you do you, pedophile.”

He guffaws, “Okay, no more pedophile jokes, the press hears and I’m done.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you mutter before tucking your head into your own shoulder.

“I have to ask you something before you nod off.” He seems almost genuine in his words as he furrows his eyebrows and leans towards your chair. You lift yourself ever so slightly showing that you’re listening. “We’ll fuck later right? Like guaranteed?”

You close your eyes again before you can roll them, although a tiny smile slips onto your face – you hope he won’t see it as you bury your face into the back of the lounge chair.

“I saw that grin, I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Don’t contradict yourself now.”

You shake your head in mock embarrassment as you go to sleep. Your head was throbbing a bit, and your heart was beating faster – but you realize that you’d forgotten the loud music, and the crowds of people around. You’d forgotten. You’d found solace after so many years looking for it, in the middle of a mock replica of your childhood treehouse.

And this sleep was peaceful for a while, but then a fucking earthquake rumbled you awake.

“What the fuck,” you grunted as you felt hands on your shoulders, your eyes bulge open and you see Roman above you. “Rome, leave me alone, you bitch.”

“Were you trying to seduce Matsson for dad?”

You just roll your eyes, not understanding in your incoherent state what the fuck your brother was talking about – per usual. Looking around you saw that mystery man was gone, and the party was still raging around you. And his name was Matsson? Strange name, but a little bit fitting.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about… why’d you even wake me up, miss me that bad?” you asked, clearly trying to antagonize him with your whiny voice.

Roman with all his pessimism and ass-holery deadpans at you, “Well I’m fuckin’ sorry, you totally missed the six foot tall Viking who was camped out beside your unconscious body?”

“Is that not the point of being unconscious, dumbass?”

“Did you fuck him, Bambi? Were you so fucking tired after fucking him that you had to take a big girl nap?”

“There’s something psychologically wrong with you.”

Roman sits squatting on the top of the chair as he pseudo-interrogates you, “Y’know he didn’t let me fucking wake you up, was that a power play or did you let him do you?”

“Rome, I have no idea who that man was, he just said he was your friend and Ken told me to keep an eye on him.” Half-lying was your thing, you guessed. Your life was full of half-lies, momentary omissions of details, ignoring parts of sentences so you seemed more innocent. That was the life of a youngest child out of five you guessed.

“And since when were you Kendall’s bitch?” “Since he invited me to something, unlike you.”

Roman completely skipped your comment before going off again, “Did he tell you anything, Matsson?”

“Oh yeah, he told me he fucking hates your guts,” you say with a smile, watching your brother getting riled up.

“I’m going to tell Dad that you fucked him if you don’t tell me the truth,” he threatens, it was fun being in this position. You’d so regularly in your childhood been put down by your older siblings, so it was interesting being the one to give it back to them. You finally understood the appeal. Ah, leverage.

You smile as you pretend to recount, a finger to your chin as you mockingly itch it, “Oh he told me that Dad’s an asshole and he has no interest in business with any of you creeps.”

“You’ve seriously been spending too much time with Uncle Looney? You know that right? You sound delusional, completely and utterly gone.”

As you sit up straighter trying to compose yourself, you eye Shiv coming over to where you and Roman sit (although he’s very much standing, pacing, like a lunatic), her hair a mess and her makeup smudged all over. She’d either just had mind blowing sex or something was seriously wrong with her.

You and your sister were strained to say the least. You wanted the idealized big sister who would braid your hair and make you up. The sister who would talk about boys with you and argue with you over stealing her clothes. You guessed Shiv more so wanted to prove herself to Dad – she’d always been his favourite. You were more of an afterthought to her. The kind of afterthought that made you do a double take when you remember that you’d buried it so long ago.

There wasn’t any sentimentality in the title of sister with the two of you. You were just another sibling, and probably her third favourite before Connor. But still, you love her, and you know in the deep recesses of her heart she loves you too. All the siblings love each other, although a strong belief for you was that there were certain dynamics that you were excluded from because of your age and difference in childhood.

“You do you, Roman. Just know that I’m hoping for your business with him to fail, just handing you my two cents.” Business was a strange concept to you, you were always pushed away from it as a child, leading you to know less than nothing about it. At one point you felt like you would go into it, but that too was ripped away from you. So right now, you just wanted to make Roman feel bad. Sure it was wrong to want to churn your brother into pieces, but it felt so good.

“I know you’re a fucking liar, so just like, sit with that, okay?”

“Whatever, Roman.”

Roman ignores your words calling out for Shiv. Shiv runs a finger through straight but frizzy hair before coming to give you a half-hug.

The hug was weird and a little bit detached, but it was something, and it made you feel not instantly uncomfortable, but almost happy. Happy to see your sister again a little bit. “Bambi, it’s been like two fucking years.”

It hadn’t been, but you agree. It felt like it.

“I didn’t know you were keeping track–” you try to say, but Roman quickly cuts you off. Biting off that Shiv was out dancing. Dancing was a human thing. You didn’t know your only sister was a human.

“Guys, I’m gonna go now, I’ll probably not be in touch, so yeah,” you try and gracefully leave as your siblings bicker about finessing or some shit.

They both nod non-committedly as you trot off observing Kendall and Connnor at the opposite poles of the room. You choose to not go off towards Kendall, who you knew probably already ruined his night with his overthinking or underthinking. Instead you go to Connor, probably your only kind brother, albeit the fact sometimes he was fucking lawful psychotic.

“Con, Con,” you call out, your small purse at your side as you push it around your body – you’d refused to give it to security earlier, citing personal reasons which they were too scared to deny. They probably assumed it was your period or something like that – you’d made that insinuation when they didn’t relent for your last name.

You see Connor’s coated body turn around as he returns your call, “Bambi! My favourite sister – you remember Willa?” Connor gestures to his arm candy, who didn’t seem too excited to meet you – or meet you again, but obviously faked it. She was very pretty, nearly to the point where she made you feel insecure. But then again, no hate for your brother, but she was with your brother. You were sure Connor had mentioned her in a phone call, but you two never really talked about those kinds of things. He was always ranting on about politics (you think you’re the only one who would listen, so he took advantage of that) or you would talk about your life – never about the company, or really how he was doing besides his ranch.

“Yes, at Shiv’s wedding, I believe?” She just nods, and you’re both just pretending to know when you last met. There was no recognition in her eyes, and you don’t think you’d ever interacted with her. It was a nice connection you’d had, a shared lie always brings people together.

“Ken, told me you were here, but I thought you’d be gone by now.” Connor pulls you into a hug before saying, “Have you been taking care of yourself, sis?”

“I’ve been doing okay, normally as always.” Noticing his cast, she asks, “What’s up with your arm, Con’?”

“Oh, I was doing an Irish jig as one does, and boom I slipped and it bent in all different directions,” he describes in a strangely vivid way. “I’m feeling better though, Willa helped me recover, right sweetheart?”

“Yep,” she nodded, a smile on her face as she bore her eyes into mine – uncomfortable? Very.

Connor was probably the only one of your siblings you regularly spoke to, yes it was by phone, and no you didn’t always enjoy it, but there was a beautiful normalcy to speaking on the phone with your brother. With Kendall or Roman it always turned into business– about Dad. With Shiv it was her ranting about some political thing, well maybe that was before she turned so Waystar-loco.

Connor was your normal brother.

“Have you heard of my recent presidential proclivities?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks at Willa for support – in which she enthusiastically nods her head.

Maybe he wasn’t exactly the most normal of brothers, but he was more normal than the brother who spoke about you having sex weirdly too much or the one who can’t stop fucking over your dad and snorting cocaine.

You nod, but before you hear a tumble and watch Roman bending over a kneeling Kendall. What a fucking dick. Kendall’s girlfriend, who you also didn’t recognize was helping him up, and you stood there with no intention to help or rush in, frozen to your spot.

Connor shouts out, “Everyone take it easy, okay?” as Roman maniacally laughs and Kendall helps himself up.

As Kendall walks past you, Connor, and Willa he grumbles, “Take your fucking coat off,” repeating it to Connor as he walks like a man scorned. Willa blocks Connor from Kendall trying to calm the younger brother down. You avert Kendall’s gaze, standing next to Willa blocking Connor who looks to the ground much like you.

Shiv seemingly walks away from the scene as well, but in the opposite direction from Kendall, and immediately after Willa and Connor walk arm in arm out, saying a quiet goodbye to you.

With one glance to Roman, who’s still muttering curses under his breath on the sofa chairs, you leave. You’d quickly sobered up, and it was time to face the darkness of New York. Walking out of the luxurious Manhattan skyscraper you peer at the artificially brightened roads and the strange silence of the backroads. Instead of taking an Uber or Taxi, you opt for the Subway. You didn’t take an allowance from your Dad like Connor did, you never inherited anything ever, and your last poetry anthology wasn’t lucrative enough to have casual taxi money. You were sure nothing would happen on the Subway, from experience you know that there would just be a few people throwing up and tired workers coming home from the night shift.

Before walking down into the station, you check your phone, one hand on the railing and the other carefully gripping onto your phone. Attention split both ways.

Unknown

Know who I am yet?

1 Missed Call from Unknown

Your heart skips a beat, an adrenaline rich positive-ending to the night beat skip.

Instead of heading inside, you turn around, sitting down on the top step of the stairs, hoping a coked up crypto-bro doesn’t push you down.

Pressing the call, a part of you hopes he doesn’t pick up, so you can return to normalcy, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

“Bambi?”

You groan, “I thought the story would stop you from calling me that.”

“Not because of the story, it suits you–” he pauses, the line going crackly as you hear him talk to someone, “You’ve left the party?”

“Yeah, walking home now.” “Walking? This is America, ja? You’re on a death mission.”

“It’s not too late, you know serial killers only come out after two in the morning.”

“I can send a car, hmm? You can come over here.”

“What does ‘over here’ mean? To a stranger’s home?”

“You promised me something, didn’t you?”

“Hmmmm, a promise? I don’t remember.”

“Send me your location, I’ll get my guy to get you.”

“Okay, I’ll send my location to a stranger just because he was nice to me at my brother’s party.”

“See you soon then.”

____

The drive was awkward to Matsson’s (you preferred mystery man to what seemingly sounded like a last name, although it might be a first, Europeans were in themselves a mystery as well). The driver was quiet, and the car was a rich person’s. It was a car you were all too familiar with, the car you drove in during your childhood, the same tinted windows and leather seats.

Same thing of riding up to the penthouse of a hotel – he was only here temporarily you surmised. You’d probably be a one-time thing.

When the elevator doors beep open and you’re in a hallway with one door, anxiety fills you up. What if this was a trap? If he was some sort of sexual pervert, or even worse an axe murderer with an even worse temper than anyone you could find on the New York streets?

But before you can even knock the door swings open and a hand pulls you in, “Fucking asshole,” you whisper as you feel his lips trace over yours, your breath in his.

He’s rough, and rushed, like he’s a man starved – of you.

As he starts tracing his fingers underneath your shirt you push his back, two hands on his chest as he kneels his head to meet yours. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know your name,” you say, almost embarrassed that you hadn’t found it on your own, “Matsson? That’s your name.”

He doesn’t respond, just pulls you close to him, before picking you up into his arms. You restrain a squeal as you struggle in his arms. He navigates through the hallways, looking as though he was confused on the layout of his own homebase, he finds the bed – splaying you down and standing above you like an animal.

“You know, I refuse to orgasm without your name,” you insist. He moves closer and closer, uncharacteristically quiet as he pulls your shirt up laying a hand on your stomach, the other tracing over your soaked panties, slowly creeping towards your sensitive skin.

He’s strangely gentle with it, until he pulls your panties to the side, spreading open your legs as he buries his face into your pussy. You move your two legs onto his shoulders, as plays with your nipples – languid twisting and faint touches that leave you just wanting more.

You let out a yelp as you feel his tongue move into you, like a fucking shark he dives into your clit as he watches you for your reaction. You know you look like a mess, breathless and desperate. “Please, please–” you moan, desperate for his tongue, for his touch, his everything.

“Your pussy’s so good, baby– fucking heaven,” he whispers into where his head lay between your thighs. As he blows gently on it, you are wholly exposed and cold, you start squirming. Your thighs start pressing around his head, trying to push him further, which seemed to turn him on even more. Your legs start to shake as your orgasm builds up and builds up, you feel like screaming from the bliss of it, his attack on your pussy is like God reigning down on earth. “Refuse to orgasm, hmm? Want me to stop?”

You shake your head as he continues, “Please, keep going, keep going—” He listens to you, beginning to rub your clit as the feeling of everything continues to crash down on you

“Come baby, come.” He keeps on licking you up, every fucking crevasse.

Your orgasm came hard and quick, with a groan and a twitch your eyes rolled over as you released his head from in between your thighs, and as quickly as he got there, he climbed on top of you – his larger body engulfing yours as he hurriedly kisses you.

“I want to inside me,” you say into his ear, you could feel him from underneath his pants as he grabs your ass, groaning into you as you palm him.

“Take off your fucking clothes,” he orders, as you do it, you take off the loose t-shirt you’d been wearing to Kendall’s party off slowly, you can feel him staring at your tits, and a part of you loves it. Loves the attention you get from him. As you take off your pants from where they are bunched up from your ankles, and then the greenish-blue granny panties you wear, you watch him take his suede pants and then his boxers off. Oh god, you feel yourself thinking as you stare at him.

He picks you up as he brings his length into your entrance, rubbing it on your clit. He keeps going, relentless before he surprises you and slips it in, tilting your head towards him so he could watch you as he fucked you.

You hear him groan as he starts with slow thrusts, he would push in and then wait five seconds before slowly sliding out— making sure you felt every inch of him. He was too big and you felt so full, with every time he pulled out you felt like five years were taken from your life span, that time had slowed down too much. You fucking needed him.

Of course he starts going fast, rough. There were no thoughts in your mind as you arched against him, and moaned in his mouth as he kissed you. Deeply and raw, like he had everything to lose and you would disappear in a heartbeat.

Pinning your hands above your head, he continues with his pace, passionately and without bore– “You’re so good for me, I just want to be inside you all the time,” he says a grin on his face as he watches your face before glancing down looking at his dick pound into you.

He presses kisses to your throat as he whispers, “My name’s Lukas, Lukas Matsson–” strangely enough hearing his name sends you off the edge as you moan out unintelligibly, overstimulated as he keeps on going, getting more and more erratic.

Not long after, he pumps into you a few more times before completely spilling inside of you, collapsing on top of you, not leaving your warmth as he buries himself deeper.

You don’t say anything afterwards, you let him lay on top of you as he stays inside of you all the same. It feels like time doesn’t pass as he wraps his arms around you, “Stay the night?” he asks, all you do is nod.

You lay in silence for a few more seconds before you tell him, “I’m on birth control, by the way, pretty fucking risky to cum inside me without asking though.”

“I wouldn’t be mad at a little me running around if I could fuck you again.”

Not saying anything, you press a kiss to his neck before tucking yourself closer into his body– finding sleep comes to you when so often it fails you.

#lukas matsson #succession #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x roy!reader #fem reader #smut #first time writing smut #to be continued #kendall roy #succession fanfic #succession x reader #will post on ao3 when more chapters

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postazkabansiriussupremacy · 10 days ago

Note

Could we get some more headcanons of twin!dad Sirius?👀

Samson and Charlotte are nervous after their sorting ceremony at Hogwarts. Especially Samson.

“I’m going to be disowned.” Samson moans, sitting near the black lake with his sister. It’d been a stressful and exciting first day of classes, but he can’t shake the knots twisting in his stomach.

“Yeah, probably.” Charlotte replies, not looking up from her books.

“I’m not kidding!” He exclaims, becoming increasingly frustrated with his sister’s lack of empathy. If anything she should be the one placed in Slytherin, not him!

“Alright, fine.” She sighs dramatically, glancing at the green patch on his robes before finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Maybe he won’t disown you, but he’ll certainly be ashamed.

“Merlin knows I am.” She adds quickly, silently relishing in her brother’s misery. Charlotte knows their father won’t be that (if at all) upset about their housing placements, but Samson’s over dramatics are very amusing to her while they last.

“You weren’t put into Gryffindor either; he’ll be just as disappointed with you!” Samson argues, pointing a finger and glaring daggers at her. The thought of tossing her books into the water crosses his mind.

“Right, but I’m in Ravenclaw—I’m smart, so it’s not unexpected.” Charlotte counters easily, shrugging. “But you being an evil, selfish Slytherin? Tsk, tsk.”

“Oh, shove off, Charlie.” Samson spits, picking up his things and walking away without giving her a second glance.

Sirius reads his daughter’s letter to him a second and third time. As always, the girl has an interesting way with words, but the topic of the letter drops a lump of guilt in his stomach. Of course he was always proud to be a Gryffindor, but he hadn’t realized somewhere along the way he’d given his children the impression that being placed in any other house was unacceptable.

Sirius sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. While raising his children, he tried his damndest to be the polar opposite of his own parents. He’s playful, encouraging, and supportive of their endeavors and personalities. And yet, in this moment, he’s reminded of his own childhood.

He was happy to be placed in Gryffindor, but he remembers clear as day how nervous terrified he was of his parents’ reactions. And he’s somehow caused his children to have similar feelings to the ones he experienced.

Charlotte being placed in Ravenclaw isn’t much of a surprise. She’s a clever girl, and admittedly, a little bit strange. It suits her well.

However, Samson being a Slytherin isn’t something Sirius expected at all. Sure, there have been times Samson reminded Sirius of Regulus, but not to that extent. Samson was always a very achievement-oriented child, and maybe a bit selfish at times given how often he was willing to throw Charlotte under the bus when getting into trouble, but it’s still a very surprising thing to learn.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, walking into the dining room to find Sirius with his head in his hands. He responds by handing you the letter from Charlotte.

“Hmm.” You hum simply once you’re finished reading. “They’re in separate houses? We’re never going to hear the end of their bickering once quidditch starts.”

Sirius groans, pushing his hair out of his face and ignoring your comment. “They think I’m disappointed in them!

“Did you read what she said?” He exclaims, leaning back in his chair. “Sam thinks I’ll disown him! I thought the very same things about my parents when I was a boy.”

You tsk and place a hand on your husband’s shoulder, knowing his parents are quite the touchy subject for Sirius.

“Then do what your parents didn’t.” You suggest easily, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Write and reassure him—the both of them. You know Charlie; she likes to pretend things don’t bother her as much as they really do.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius sighs, looking up at you through the corner of his eyes. “Obviously.”

Even if Sirius is angry at himself for occasionally screwing up in the same way his own parents had, at least he’s big enough to say sorry.

#not headcanons #or in the same format as the last twins post #but i was feeling hogwarts!age twins #also sirius still being a good dad #i really like writing the twins tbh lol #ask #sirius black #post azkaban sirius #sirius black x reader #post azkaban sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black one shot

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zorobraun · 2 years ago

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sexual tension with ghost that leads to sex (but he’s kinda toxic) part three

“shit, y/n is throwing up in the bathroom! she said she’s feeling very sick.” soap exclaims a little too loud, wanting to make his lieutenant hear it. ghost’s eyes widen. “come again?” he stops cleaning his pistol to look at soap’s face, to make sure he heard it well. soap holds back a laugh as he sees the man’s concerned face. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” soap bursts out laughing, pointing at ghost. “the two of you have been messing people’s sleep schedule for so long now, i hate you, man.” soap punches his friend.

“is she okay, though?” ghost scratches the back of his neck, still worried if this a joke or not. “yeah, i was just fucking with you.” soap chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. ghost sighs in relief. “fucking hell, do you want me dead or something? almost got me a heart attack here.” he chuckles, turning back to his gun. “shut up, you know damn well that you’d love to have a cute little baby, being a dad and all.” soap points out and ghost smiles, nodding.

“i’d love to, but not with her. she’s too much.” he answers, chuckling as he thinks of you. “what do you mean?” soap frowns, too invested in this conversation. ghost clicks his tongue, focused. “you know… she’s too good. i’d ruin her. besides, this life of mine is shit, i’d hate to put my child in the middle of this.” he says, feeling very empty for a second. it’s almost sad. “i think you already did. you know, ruin her. she probably caught feelings and you’re probably being cold towards her. i know you.” soap shakes his head, punching ghost’s healed arm.

“yeah, whatever. i think she knows i won’t settle down for her, or anyone else.” ghost shrugs, but his heart hurts a little. he clears his throat, putting the pistol on his waist. “thanks for the talk, johnny.” he smiles half heartedly. you, on the other hand, don’t feel thankful for this talk at all. you let out a disappointment sigh behind the closed door, outside the base. fuck you for catching feelings.

“hey, y/n. what are you doing here?” konig scares you out as you put a hand on your chest. you chuckle nervously. “don’t ever do this to me again.” you smile. “i was just… being nosy.” you simply says and he laughs, his hands on his waist. why have you just noticed how tall konig is? “well, i can’t blame you for that. i’m nosy too.” he shrugs, walking towards you.

“where’s konig?” you both hear ghost’s voice talking to someone, and before you could get inside, he appears behind konig. obviously, ghost’s eyes find yours, since you’re in front of the teammate he was looking for. he clears his throat and you look down, as if your shoes were much more interesting. “yes, sir?” konig turns his body to face ghost. “what are you doing? i thought i gave you an order. alejandro’s waiting for you.” he says in his usual demanding tone and you slowly open the door to get the fuck out.

“you stay.” ghost points at you and you freeze, nodding. “sorry, sir.” konig mumbles as he leaves without saying goodbye. ghost sighs tiredly, coming closer to you. “new friend, huh?” he pulls his balaclava up just enough to put a cigarette between his lips. he lights it up, you smile nervously. “he’s cute, isn’t he?” ghost locks his jaw, nodding. “the cutest ever.” he chuckles dryly. “how’s your throat, sweetness?” he mocks with a serious face, looking away to see if someone’s around. he looks at you again when he assures that no one’s near.

you roll your eyes. “good, besides the fact that i have a raspy voice now.” your fake and annoyed smile makes him chuckle. “well, i think it’s sexy.” he smirks, blowing the smoke away. “yeah?” you stare at his lips before thinking twice. he’s so attractive… goddamn, what are you even doing? it’s embarassing — the way you act like a horny virgin teenager around him. “i-i mean, whatever. fuck you.” you panick with red cheeks, shrugging. he laughs out loud.

“i love your voice, raspy or not.” ghost points out, staring at your lips involuntarily. he puts the cigarette out. his thumb caresses your cheek. “if that makes you feel better.” he says in a low tone, holding back a smile, now brushing his thumb on your lips slowly. god, you hate him. you swallow hard when his hand leaves your face, standing still in front of him, too close for your comfort. his eye contact game is strong, so you look away to take a deep breath. “i should get back in.” you announce, pointing at the door.

ghost smirks, nodding. you hold back a laugh when you realize the both of you are waiting for a… kiss. he pulls you closer to kiss you, but konig appears out of nowhere, making him pull back and clear his throat, play pretending. “konig.” ghost greets him, annoyed. “lieutenant.” konig nods his head. “and y/n.” he chuckles, but he sounds suspicious. “hi again.” you smile, scratching the back of your neck. “i’ll talk to you guys later.” you wave at them, mostly looking at ghost. he knows how to read you well.

(…)

“y-yes, simon, right there!” you scream as you grab the fuck out of his desk, making him laugh against your pussy. you chuckle, but it breaks into a moan when he pushes a finger in while his tongue works on your clit. your fingers are intertwined with his hair locks, your legs shaking a bit. “s-slow down, please!” ghost pulls his head back for a second, to let the both of you breathe. he looks up at you and you almost pass out, he’s so pretty like this.

“you good, love?” simon caresses the thigh that’s on his shoulder, placing a wet kiss on the inner area. you just nod, your chest coming up and down. he comes back to your pussy again, this time his tongue is more controlled, his movements are slower. his sensual patience with your body only makes you closer to your orgasm. but then, he starts moving faster and you hold your breath for a second, not knowing how to handle the sudden change of pace.

you’re one second away from your orgasm when he slows down again, your high immediately fading away. you hate that he knows your body so well. you whimper in pain, making him smirk against you. “i’m feeling weird.” you announce with a certain difficulty due to how bad you want him to make you cum. “is that so?” he licks you slowly and you can’t hold back your moan. “do you want me to stop?” ghost looks at your fucked out face. “i think i need to pee. my bladder, it hurts a little.” you explain to him, but he never stops his ministrations on you, because he knows it better.

“then do it.” ghost sounds excited, even though he’s out of breath. you frown. “have you ever squirted before?” you shake your head and it makes him even more hard below you. “let go. do it for me.” he stops eating you out to place a kiss on your lower stomach, doing a trail of kisses until his lips touch yours. “but you’re doing it on my cock.” you do as you’re told. you don’t even have the time to think when he pushes himself inside you with a kiss below your ear, whispering not so sweet words that make you squirm under him.

(…)

the storm outside makes you sigh. you don’t really know how long you’ve been on ghost’s bed, laying beside him, just hearing his breathing. it’s not like you’re waiting for his aftercare or something, you’re just too immersed in your thoughts. “what’s on your mind?” he breakes the silence, staring at the ceiling. “nothing.” you lie, smiling half heartedly, avoiding eye contact. “i know you.” he adds, now turning his face to you. you sigh, licking your lips. you look at him.

“i think we should stop, you know, fucking every now and then.” you give in, fighting the urge to touch his face. he’s analyzing every inch of yours. “it’s all up to you, honestly. i’ll settle for whatever you decide.” ghost kisses your forehead and the world stops for a second. did he just kissed your forehead while saying he’ll settle for whatever you decide? you both widen your eyes at each other.

“did you just…?” you chuckle, pointing at him. “no, i didn’t. this interaction isn’t real.” ghost’s hand goes to your waist as he pulls you closer, giving you a quick kiss as he chuckles against your lips. “for real, though. i think we should stop seeing each other. i mean it, okay?” you say, this time more seriously and it almost breaks his heart.

“can i ask you why?” he’s staring at you as if he already knows, so you sigh tiredly. “no.” you smile, looking away. “c’mon, y/n.” ghost chuckles. god, you feel like running away from his room. but fuck it. “because i’m falling for you and i can’t stand the idea that you would never love me back. i can’t keep having the most soul wrenching sex with you because my heart hurts everytime i remember that although i may not be yours, i can never be another’s. and you know what’s worse? you don’t want me to be yours, never did, never will. so why should i keep hurting myself this much?” a weight just got off your shoulders.

ghost is looking at you as if you were the most brave woman out there; expressing your feelings for him out loud like that. every woman he had gotten with, was scared of his reaction to feelings getting involved. as they should, because… “you don’t know what you’re talking about.” he says, unsure and cold, swallowing hard. you blink a few times, staring at him as if he’s your worst regret. you nod, getting out of his bed.

“you know what, simon?” you smile dryly as you’re putting on your clothes. “i’m the one to blame.” you chuckle, but you’re not actually finding it funny. he sighs, now getting out of his bed too. at least he’s not naked anymore. “i fucking cared for you too soon. i should’ve kept my disgust for you from the beggining. now i’m here, humiliating myself for someone who didn’t even care for me in the first place. i was just your safest option all along, someone who you could fuck anytime, anywhere.” you’re mad as you point at him, your watery eyes making him feel like shit.

“y/n, it’s not like this.” he comes closer and your palm goes on his chest, as a way to stop him there. he looks confused and almost desperate with your attitude. “it is like this. and we both know that.” you say firmly, looking into his painful eyes. he cups your hand on his chest, you swallow hard. you’ll have to get used to live without his warm touch. you pull your hand away from his, your eyes shedding a tear down your cheek.

“you’re overreacting…” ghost says the magical words and you’re done. you laugh out loud, shaking your head. “you’re right. night, simon.” you give up, walking towards the door. he closes his eyes, sighing. “wait, y/n.” you stop, still looking at the door in front of you. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to lead you on for so long when i knew what i felt.” you swallow hard as you both take some time to think, never looking at each other. he’s staring at the cold lifeless ground, just like him.

“with that being said, i can’t love you as you want me to.” simon finally says, mournful voice. the silence is so loud that he can almost hear your heart shattering onto the ground. he’s glad you’re not looking at him, because he’s tearing up. you look down, defeated, but not surprised at all; you could never change his mind all along. deep down, you’ve always knew it.

“before you leave, i just want you to know that you were never the problem. i am. and i…” he pauses, the overwhelming affection for you hitting him too hard. “i was full of happiness, when you were around.” he adds and you sob even more, nodding to yourself, since he can’t see it. if he was happy around you, why not give the two of you a chance? you press your lips together, not wanting to keep begging for him to love you.

“i quit.” you announce after a few minutes. you could never handle working with him again after this. simon closes his fist, swallowing hard. fuck him for losing you like this. “i understand.” he mumbles, his chest coming up and down from the despair of not seeing your ever again. he tries to control his breathing. “i didn’t know it was possible, but i hate you right now.” you mumble, hoping to make him feel bad but little do you know that he’s never been worse. “i know. i hate myself as well.” simon tries to smile but he’s just so fucking sad.

“have a good life or whatever. from now on, try to be happy, for christ’s sake.” your sad chuckle breaks into a sob and you never thought you were this emotional when it comes to him. he chuckles just like you. “please, love. just pick up your things and go.” simon tries to kick you out because he can’t stand your broken heart anymore, it’s making his own heart break as well. “shit, okay.” you dry your tears with the back of your hand. “goodbye, simon.” you open the door as you look over your shoulder, just to see him turning his back to face you at the same time. maybe you both needed to look at each other’s faces for one last time.

“goodbye, dumbass.” he gives you a sad half heartedly smile. you notice that his gaze is very upset, heavy, meaningless. he had to kill you but it killed him just the same. was he crying? it seems like he’s got a heart, after all. you hold back your tears when you realize the same stupid nickname from last night. you smile sadly as you close the door behind you, leaving him alone. this time, for good.

you could say that soap was right, simon ruined you. but you ruined him too.

(…)

“brother, what happened?” soap sounds concerned as he catches ghost off guard, smoking outside the base, under the rain. simon looks like shit, but his friend would never joke about it in such a delicate moment, as what it seems to be. “y/n happened.” he mocks, even though he sounds miserable. soap frowns, making ghost sigh and blow the smoke away. “i fucked up, man. but it’s whatever, she’s better off me, anyway.” ghost forces a sad smile.

“do you want a hug?” soap smiles half heartedly, stroking his lieutenant’s shoulder. ghost chuckles, shaking his head. he swallows hard when he feels the urge to cry. the urge to run back to you and say: “i love you, i love you, i love you. i miss you so much, i’ve never been in love before and it scares me, i’m so sorry for pushing you away when i knew what i truly felt. what i felt for you was everything i’ve ever wanted to feel since i met you. come back, love. come back to me. come back because i still search for you in everyone and everywhere. come back because my eyes are only satisfied when you’re the one standing in front of them. come back because you told me to be happy and i won’t be able to make it if you’re not near. just come back.”

but he can’t. it’s too late.

“i need to tell the team about it.” ghost says, putting the cigarette out. soap nods, opening the door. the two of them get back in, making the team stare at ghost. he clears his throat. his heart is heavy. “i’m here to announce that y/n is no longer a part of our team. she quit yesterday.” ghost says in his usual firm voice, but god knows he’s falling apart on the inside. the team looks very upset, but they nod with a sad smile, already knowing that simon was the reason she quit — his defeated aura said it all.

“she really liked you, you know…” alejandro breaks the silence, looking not at his lieutenant, but at his friend, simon riley. “i know.” simon nods with an upset smile, lighting up another cigarette. “that’s all, y’all can go back to work or whatever.” he smiles half heartedly. soap clears his throat. “um, lt…” he says, ghost looks at him, confused. “last week, i kinda invited her to my birthday party, at the bar, this weekend. she said she’ll be there. is this okay?” soap holds his breath when he notices ghost’s death stare.

he locks his jaw. “of course. i’m too old for drama, anyway.” simon mumbles, already regretting to have soap as his closest friend; he could never be absent at johnny’s birthday celebration. just like you would never not go, since you’re a people pleaser.

fucking awesome.

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n

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idyllic-affections · 11 months ago

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bravery and its unique manifestations.

summary. huohuo's baby sibling has always been bolder than her.

trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. huohuo & younger sibling!foxian!reader, mr. tail & reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. mr tail is so dad coded

huohuo tries her very best to be brave for her baby sibling, [name].

they admire her so very and deeply and earnestly—this, she knows for certain. it would be impossible for her not to know. with the way their eyes grow wide with awe and the way they bounce on their heels, excitedly telling her all about how they want to be just like her when they get older (even though huohuo is barely any older than her baby sibling, and she's unsure if her little heart would be able to handle them being a spiritfarer too…), the way they brag to everyone they meet about how their big sister is just the coolest foxian on the luofu… she would have to be completely and entirely oblivious to not take notice, and even then, she's certain that mr. tail would scoff and point it out to her with a remark about how airheaded she must have been to not realize.

huohuo knows. they admire her more than anyone else on the luofu.

so, she does her best to be brave. [name] thinks she's the most awesome person in the universe! if she didn't at least try to live up to their interpretation of her, then what kind of a big sister would she be..? truly, she does not wish to disappoint them. she would never get over it, never forgive herself, if she did.

she does her best to strengthen her resolve—horror movies at the latest hours of the night, taking on more responsibilities as a spiritfarer, and even going as far as to ask mr. tail to somehow scare her a bit. she just wants to be brave. if not for herself, if not for xueyi and hanya, if not for anyone else in the entire universe, then for her sibling.

even after all of that, though, some fears are not so easily tackled. aeons, she can't help but go stuttery and quiet when someone berates her.

her little sibling has always been bolder than her. they've always been able to stand up for themselves, always been able to keep their chin up, always been able to persevere… they are, in an ironic way, everything she wishes she could be, everything she hopes that she will be one day. just as they wish to be like her, so too does she wish to be like them.

given their sparky attitude, it's no surprise that when they overhear someone berating their big sister, they zip over at the speed of light… or possibly even faster with how they're almost tripping grown adults due to hardly watching where they're going.

mr. tail has already taken to yelling at the one who so boldly dared to talk down to huohuo—that is something only he can do, how dare some random resident think that they also have that right—by the time [name] has gotten to huohuo's side. she tries her best to quickly dry her tears for them. despite her face not being completely dry, [name] doesn't even seem to notice, for immediatly after reaching her side and letting mr. tail finish, they yell:

"yeah! what mr. tail said!" they shout, little foot stomping onto the ground as they cross their arms. their attempt at a scowl really just looks like a pout. simply put, they are not intimidating in the slightest ('cute' might be a better word to describe the little fuming foxian), but the choice of words that follow are certainly silencing: "shut up! who do you think you are to talk to big sister like that?! don't ever say those idiotic things again, you got it?! she's a judge! who the hell are you to talk to her that way?!"

it's quiet for a moment.

then, the perpetrator-turned-victim queitly, awkardly shuffles away. mr. tail chuckles—it could be argued that the sound is fond in its nature, but he would never admit that to anyone. "you tell 'em, pup—"

their chest puffs out proudly.

"—but next time, do it without sayin' hell again, got that?"

they pout. "fine…"

please consider reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's drabbles 🌸#favoniuslibrary #platonic hsr #platonic hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail #platonic honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #huohuo x reader #platonic huohuo x reader

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xetlynn · 1 year ago

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Twilight- Youngest Shadow: Chapter Three, Crash It

(Alice X Reader X Jasper)

[two] [three] [four]

Today was the day of my 6th Volleyball game out of 14. It’s a Home game.

Every single game has been attended by Jacob, Quil and Embry. Sometimes Sam and Billy. Bella made it to about two. Clearly needing to do her own thing I understood. If I didn’t understand a sport I wouldn’t want to go either.

She makes me sit with her at lunch still, I got kind of close with Angela. She’s cool. She also comes to games but that’s to take pictures, helping with the yearbook committee.

Bella and I walk out of the house together. I see my bike is gone and remembered I had to give it to Jacob for maintenance. Since he offered I was getting it done for free.

It’s also raining so I’m kind of glad I don’t have to choice to ride it. Sometimes the rain drops hurt like a bitch. I lift my hood up, walking behind Bella as we go down the steps. “Great.” She mutters under her breath.

Charlie pulls in with her truck. “Dad I can drive us to school myself.” As we get closer to the bottomed step she slips and falls on her ass. Tripping due to not watching where I was going I go forward.

“You okay, Bells? [Name]?” Charlie climbs out of the truck, helping Bella up and then the both help me. I ripped a new pair of jeans, hissing in pain from my hands I wipe it on my sweater that’s not so new. Luckily I didn’t bleed at all. “Ice doesn’t help the uncoordinated.” Bella frowns at her own joke.

“Clearly.” I groan.

“That’s why I got you new tires.” Charlie points to the red truck. “The other ones were nearly bald.”

“You got me new tires. No one’s ever don’t that before.” Both Charlie and I look at her confused. “I mean… nothing.”

He glances at me, not getting it but he heads to his cruiser.

“I won’t make it to dinner or the game. I’m heading down to Mason County. A security guard at the Grisham Mill got killed by some kind of animal.” He explains to us.

“An animal?” Bella asks, confused.

“You’re not in Phoenix anymore, honey. They’ve been hunting it for a week with no luck. Thought I’d lend a hand.” He puts it simply. “Be careful.” We say in unison.

“Always am.”

“And thank you for the tires.”

I’d thought by now they wouldn’t be so awkward with each other but I am very wrong. The tension is so thick it couldn’t even be cut with a knife.

Change of pov

Rain was still hitting hard. Eric and Bella walk together into Biology. She brushes off her coat as he talks. “And yeah, prom committee is a chick thing, but I gotta cover it for the paper anyway and they need a guy to help choose the music. So I need your playlist.” Eric explains but before the girl can respond Mike comes up behind her. “Come on, Arizone. Give it up for the rain.” He shakes his wet baseball cap onto Bella’s head.

“Terrific.” She walks away, ignoring them to get to her seat.

She freezes once she notices Edward. She straightens her posture, striding to the shared table confidently. Dropping her books in front of him, ready to address him but instead he looks up at her and speaks.

“Hello.”

She stops, automatically stunned. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. My name is Edward Cullen.”

She’s too shocked to respond, she wasn’t expecting him to talk to her. “You’re Bella.” He stares, not questioning.

“I’m… yes.” She finally sits, feeling stupid.

He abruptly moves to the edge of his seat away from her. She’s baffled to say the least, smelling her hair as if she stinks.

“Onion root tip cells! That’s what’s on your slides. Separate and label them into the phases of mitosis. The first partners to get it right win the golden onion!” Mr. Molina holds up a gold spray painted onion but disappointed by the little to no reaction.

“Come on people, tick tock.”

Everyone gets to work. Edward pushes the microscope towards Bella, still keeping a distance.

“Ladies first.” She grabs it defensively and snaps the first slide in, adjusting the lens. “You’ve been gone.”

“Out of town. Personal reasons.” He was curt like her, short with his answers.

“Prophase.” She says, going to remove the slide. “May I look?” She slides the scope to him, he looks into it. “Prophase.”

“Like I said.”

He writes it down on the work sheet. He takes a deep breath, turning to her. “Enjoying the rain?”

“Seriously? You’re asking me about the weather?” She seems offended. “It appears.”

“No, unlike my sister I don’t like the cold, or the wet. Or the grey. Or the parkas. Or the turtlenecks.”

There was a small smile that played on his lips.

He actually seemed interested in what she had to say. He studies her like her sister did to him days ago. But she can’t tell if he despises her or not. “What?”

He shakes his head and turns to the microscope, switching out the slides. She continues to stare at him, appreciating his evident beauty. His cheekbones to his lips.

“Anaphase.” She snaps out of her daze to go back to giving a dry look.

“May I?” She mocks him for before, looking into the lens.

“Anaphase.”

“Like I said.”

They change the slide.

“If you hate the cold and rain, why move to the wettest place in the continental U.S.?” He quizzes her.

“It’s complicated.” Simple answer, but he’s intrigued so he pushes.

“I think I can keep up.” She looks at him quickly then looking away back at the scope. He seems to be paying attention very intently.

“My mother remarried.” Another simple response.

“Very complex. So you don’t like him.” A statement, he doesn’t question himself.

“Phil is fine. Young for her but nice enough.” She tells. “Interphase.”

At the end of school she’s still holding the golden onion. She bumps into Edward on accident. “Why didn’t you stay with your mom and step dad? Or your sister?” He waits patiently for her to say something, studying her like before.

“Alright, Phil’s a minor league baseball player, so he travels a lot. My mother stayed home with me and [Name] but it made her unhappy. And my sister has always been a daddy’s girl. So I decided to spend time with my father too.” She explains everything. “But now you’re unhappy.” He states himself again.

“No I… I just.” She turns away, embarrassed.

Back to You

At the end of the day I stood beside Angela and Jessica. Since our game was today I don’t see a point in going all the way home just to come back to the school.

I watch my sister head for her truck, shivering. Once she got there she looked back, making little eye contact with me and then staring at the Cullens. More specifically, Edward? I think that’s his name if I’m remembering correctly.

Their eyes met then there was a loud screech only getting louder by the second. A van skids out of control, heading right for my older sister.

I felt frozen for a second, running over there immediately. The van comes to a complete stop after spinning out. Like something forcefully stopped it. I didn’t see anything as it had happened so fast. The van had only hit the back of the truck, leaving a dent that was definitely noticeable to the eye.

After milliseconds everyone went berserk, roaring into screams of trying to get help, calling 911.

Mike and Eric yell if she’s okay, I watched Edward who was once at his Volvo now leaving the scene. Wanting to ask him what happened I shake my head, pushing the two boys out of my way. “Bells, Bella?!” I cried out, falling down to her level, feeling the pain in my knees from earlier but ignoring it. I took her into my arms as she was obviously in shock.

I ended up driving her and the boy who crashed into her, Tyler a ride to the hospital.

I told him to shut up on our way there. Even sitting in the room as they got checked up on I sat there glaring at him.

Minutes later, Charlie rushes in. “Bells, are you alright?“

“I’m fine dad, calm down.” She assures gun but it’s not enough. “I’m so sorry Bella. I tried to stop.” Tyler apologizes.

“It’s okay Tyler.” Bella tells him and I scoff. “It sure as hell is not okay.” Charlie says, I nod agreeing. “Dad it’s not his fault.”

“We nearly lost you.”

“But you didn’t.” She says, I pull her into a hug since Dad is glaring at Tyler like I once was. “You can kiss your license goodbye.” He sternly tells the boy and I watch his body falter.

I notice Dr. Cullen approach us and if I didn’t know anything I would’ve thought he was a movie star. I didn’t pay Trenton to what they were talking about. I focused on his face, observing him as he talked. Just like I did with his foster kids. Then I heard Tyler apologizing once again, since I was closest I closed the curtain getting a fist bump from my dad.

“It would’ve been a lot worse if Edward hadn’t knocked me out of the way.” Bella says ignoring dad and I’s antics.

“Edward? Your boy?” Charlie asks only to not get a response.

Dr. Cullen adverts his eyes, I watch Bella press. I’m guessing she knew something that was making him uncomfortable. “It was amazing he got to me so fast. He was nowhere near me.”

The blonde man smiles.

“As long as you’re safe.”

We leave the treatment area. “I just have to sign some paperwork. You better call your mom.” He points to Bella.

“You told her?! She’s probably freaking out!” He just shrugs and walks off.

She pulls her phone out and I laugh, earning an eye roll. Then we both look down the hall, hearing an argument. “Stay here.” She orders as if I was so much younger than her. She gets a little closer to whatever was happening.

Not meaning to but the curiosity getting the best of me I do the same thing.

“This isn’t about you. It’s about all of us.” It was Rosalie. I raise an eyebrow but Dr. Cullen definitely saw Bella, taking Rosalie inside his office.

I sit for a moment, but I see Bella talking to Edward so I just walk the other way, pulling out my phone as I felt it vibrating.

It’s Jacob calling, shit.

I answered it quickly. I forgot all about my Volleyball game that’s in… 35 minutes.

“Hello?” I spoke to,

“Hey, where are you? Are you okay? I heard something about an accident with you and Bella?” He freaks out, i why shush him trying to calm him down.

“Hey, everything is fine. No damage was done. Bella was apart if it but no scratches, just a bump on the head. I’m sorry I should’ve called.” I told him, hugging my self with my open arm.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re both okay, I’m glad shes okay.” He sighs like he had just been holding in a long breath.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is good. I’m just going to keep watch on Bella for a little. Could you let my coach know what happened. I’m sure she knows but y’know?”

“Totally understand, I will let her know. Call me later tonight?” He sounded hopeful and I smile to myself.

“Of course, I’ll call around 9.” I say

“Can’t wait…”

“Knock it off.”

I was going to ask what he meant by that but I hear the other guys in the background and I laugh.

I hung up, not seeing Bella come up to me, she grabbed my shoulder causing me to jump and almost drop my phone.

“Who was that?”

“Jacob. He asked if we were okay since he went to my game as usual. Seeing I wasn’t there freaked him out.” I take a deep breath through my nose.

“I completely forgot about that. We can still make it.” She says in a hurried tone but I shake my head.

“Coach wouldn’t let me play anyway. There’s no point.” I laugh, putting a hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry.” She frowns.

“No need, you should call mom though.”

She whines to herself, pulling her phone out again.

Charlie walks out and we go outside. I drove the truck home.

Later that night I call Jacob like I told him I would. He tells me about the game since they stayed due to Quil wanting to.

“It would’ve been a better game with you for sure.” He says and I could hear the smile.

“I know, I’m just so amazing.” I brag, playing with my tongue piercing as I hear his laugh.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have boasted your ego.”

“What ego?” I jokingly say.

I look over to my clock, seeing the time and it was already 11:30.

I was surprised Charlie hadn’t come and told me to go to bed.

“Ah, we should go to bed.” I start to say, I heard a small thump from Bella’s room upstairs and I stood up carefully strutting towards the door.

“[Name]?” Jacob calls, I snap out of whatever trance I was in. Not hearing anything else from Bella’s room so I go back to my bed.

“Sorry I got distracted. Goodnight, Jake.” My voice was a little raspy from being tired.

“Goodnight.” He ends up hanging up the phone and I lay back in my bed.

Thinking about everything that happened today.

Chapter three, edited.

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