#dad energy all year round | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellasprettywords · 23 days

Text

So High School (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: It’s me, hi, so I’m kind of back, although I’ve decided to expand my horizons and also write for Doctor Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds; either way, I hope you like this little writing🤭💕

This one shot is inspired by So High School by Taylor Swift from The Tortured Poets Department, which is my current obsession, so if you are swifties, I hope you guys catch the references 🫶🏼

This is season 2 Spencer, cause I just really dig the shy-sweet vibe

This is not proofread, as it’s 2 am, but I couldn't stop

y/n – your name

Warnings: Friends to lovers (kindish), mentions of alcohol

Word count: 2,409

My Masterlist

Working at the BAU wasn’t easy, but every now, and then you’d have days when all you had pending was paperwork, and you’d catch a break. Like right now, sure, you still had a couple of reports to get through, but overall the mood seemed relaxed, even if you’d been working nonstop for the last 24 hours.

You were typing your reports and sporadically, you’d catch a glance of Spencer Reid’s concentrated face, whose desk was in front of you. Sure, you were work friends, but deep down you knew you had a small crush on the twenty-five-year-old Doctor. Your thoughts were starting to fly away, thinking about Spencer's hair, framing his delicate features, his big eyes, which seemed to move frantically over the computer screen, the way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was invested into his work, and the way his brows were crunching, making small wrinkles in his forehead; when suddenly, your train of thought was interrupted.

“You know what we should do? We should play kiss, marry, kill” Penelope suggested way too loudly coming into the bullpen with a huge grin and walking frantically to your desk.

“What are you even saying?” exclaimed Emily, standing from her chair and approaching your desk

“We still have to finish our reports” said Spencer, who seemed to be glued ho his computer, taping frenetically

“Did I just hear kiss, marry, kill?” Morgan approached your desk and one by one, the gang was coming all together

“Okay, first round, y/n, kiss, marry, kill with Gideon, Hotch and Rossi?” Penelope asked a little too excited for the question

“Come on, I’m not answering that” you said chuckling at the thought of even giving a response

“Comeeeeeee ooooooon” this time Morgan insisted and the absurdity of the question made you laugh so hard, Spencer looked up from his computer

“Fine, kiss Rossi, marry Hotch and kill Gideon, because he has way too much dad energy to kiss or marry him” you said, and your friends burst out laughing

“We are way too sleep-deprived to be here” Emily said chuckling, “Also, I’m starving”

“I have a frozen pizza at home I just can’t wait to devour” you said and suddenly your friend's eyes seemed to sparkle

“Now that I know that, I’m totally going home with you” Penelope said clinging to your arm

“I’m tagging along as well” Emily added clinging into your other arm

“They say three is a multitude, so I’m coming, just to keep you guys in check” Morgan exclaimed, and you couldn’t wait for Spencer to add himself into your plans, but unfortunately, the young doctor was back into his working frenezzy.

“Como on Spence, we are going home” you said hoping he’d tag along to your improvised plan, even if you were almost certain he’d say no, considering he didn’t really talk to you other than work related business; and rarely info dumped on you, which made you a little sad, considering his info dumps were one of the things that you most liked about him.

“Excuse me?” Spencer said crunching his eyebrows and staring over his screen monitor into your eyes

“We… we are all coming to my house to eat pizza, I was… I was wondering if you’d like to come” you stuttered and felt your cheeks become red. Anytime, you’d try to talk to Spencer about anything other than work, words would trip out of your mouth incomprehensibly, your cheeks would flush in a bright shade of red, and you were pretty sure anyone with a brain knew about your crush, specially considering you’d act like a high schooler in love around him.

“Come on man, we can even trow some poker to sweetener the deal for you” Morgan added

“Also, y/n told me that she has the new Grand Theft Auto, so we could play for a while” Penelope tried convincing Spencer appealing to his love for video games, and if it wasn’t obvious before, well, it was obvious now that you were eager to have the boy-genius at your place

“Alright, let me just grab my bag” Spencer said calmly, almost… oblivious to the fact that your friends were playing smooth wingman and wing-woman

“Penny and I are driving together, and Derek is taking his bike, so Reid, you can drive with y/n” Emily said and for a second, you couldn't believe how shamelessly uncool your friends were being about the whole situation

“If it’s alright with you, I’d appreciate riding with you” Spencer told you a little… flustered? No way, you were the one fangirling over him, maybe he was just getting secondhand embarrassment for the whole situation and your friend’s pathetic attempts to get you together.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The ride home was quite nice, Spencer seemed to loosen up when he got the chance to share statistics on pizza consuming habits in the U.S. and somehow, he managed to incorporate the history of pizza:

“So, a precursor of pizza was probably the focaccia, a flatbread known to the Romans as panis focacius, to which toppings were then added. Modern pizza evolved from similar flatbread dishes in Naples, Italy, between the 16th and mid-18th century” Spencer kept explaining, while you took the chance to steal a couple of glances, even if it was a driving hazard “I’m sorry, I’m sure you are bored with my nonstop chatter” the young Doctor added shyly

“No way, I really enjoy your facts and stories” you said, and a shy smile formed into his lips, so you took a leap of faith, hoping with all your heart he wouldn't be uncomfortable with what you were about to say “I love the way your mind works, I find it amazing how you can just know so much, you know?”

“Thank you, it is called an eidetic memory, most people think it’s weird” Spencer said looking down to his hands, that were lying over his lap.

OH MY GO, WAS DOCTOR SPENCER REID BLUSHING? You were trying your best to hide your excitement, and luckily you were saved by the bell, as without realizing it, you were already parking in front of your apartment building

“So this is me, home sweet home” you said turning off the engine of your car and Spencer gave you a side smile that made your stomach flutter

“Thanks for the drive, and you know, for having me” he said, and you were high on his words; everything about him seemed to fascinate you, but before your mind could go wild, Morgan tapped your car window to let you know he was there, and after a couple of minutes, Penelope and Emily were outside as well

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I’ll put the pizza in the oven, so maybe we can play a round of poker while we wait?” you suggested as your friends took a seat at the table, and you handed them a beer each.

“That’s what I’m talking about” Morgan said, already shuffling the deck of cards. The game was fun, although Spencer won each and every round. The night was everything you could ask for, Spencer seemed comfortable at your apartment, and he even got around to joking and laughing out loud.

“Truth or dare?” Morgan said spinning his empty beer bottle with mischief in his eyes, and laughs started bursting, until it landed on Emily

“Truth” she said glancing at Morgan with amusement

“Have you even come into work tipsy?” Morgan asked

“Alright, yeah, once when we were working with the Newport Police” she replied calmly “Now, have anything stronger?” Emily asked, lifting her beer bottle

“As a matter of fact, I do” you said standing from your chair and bringing different alcohol bottles, you had a wide selection of whiskey, wine, rum, tequila, and vodka

“What are you? A bartender?” Penelope asked, surprised by the alcohol selection.

“I tried, I even got a book, but between life and work I never got around to reading it” you added pouring your friends a couple of drinks.

Emily spun the bottle, and it landed on Spencer, who gulped a little too loudly, and you couldn’t keep your eyes from his Adam’s apple “Truth or dare, boy-genius?” she asked taking you off from your thought

“I… mm… truth?” he said almost too afraid of what your friends could think about asking him

“Alright, what do you think about y/n?” Emily asked bluntly, and you could see Spencer’s cheeks turning red. Sure, you loved your friends, but their mingling was getting way too obvious for your mental health

“I… I think she’s great, I mean, of course she is incredibly smart, she’s sweet, funny, and she has a special way to always makes you feel heard and taking into consideration. It is undeniably that she’s pretty, I mean, and… yeah that's what I think” Spencer said staring into your eyes, and you couldn't believe it, you literally were wonderstruck.

Did he like you? Did he just admit you were pretty? You were literally on cloud nine when you realized Spencer had spun the bottle, and this time it was facing you

“What’s… What’s your favorite movie?” Spencer asked shyly, and all eyes turned to him

“Come on man, that was your shot” Morgan said leaning into Spencer

“That changes, but right now I’d say American Pie” you said trying not to sound too embarrassed. Secrets were spilled, confessions were made, and shots were taken, until Penelope spun the bottle and once more, it landed on Spencer

“Truth or dare, lover-boy?” Penelope asked a little too excited, which once more made Spencer a little nervous, considering the situation, and of course, the fact that he pretty much just admitted having a crush on you

“Dare?” Spencer said, almost asking

“Uuuh I got a great one, read y/n’s bartender book, and then prepare us some fire ass drinks” she said almost euphoric

“Oh, okay, sure, I can do that” Spencer said released a breath he didn't realize he was holding “y/n, would you mind lending me the book? So I can read it, please?” he asked shyly, and you knew this was your chance to make a move

“Of course, although I’m not sure where it is, so… maybe you can help me find it?” you asked hoping he caught the subtext

“Yes, yes I can help you look” he said, and a little grin formed into his lips

“What about playing the Grand Theft Auto whille they go lok for the book?” Morgan asked smootly, giving you just what you needed, a chance to slip to the side with Spencer

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were now in your room, with the guy that made your stomach flutter, and once again, you coultn shake away the feeling of being a sixteen year old girl approaching her crush for the first time. Okay, so until now you knew there was a chance he actually liked you, so for the first time, you tried to flirt smootly

“So, the book must me somewhere on this wall” you told Spencer pointing at the wall-tall-bookshelf that adorned your room

“That is an impressive collection” Reid said admiring your books

“Thank you, I like… reading, and of course, books” you mumbled and between the nerves of having him in your room, and the fact that he was aproaching you, starring directly at your eyes, your braing wasn’t braining it. This defenetly wasn’t considered smooth, or flirty

“Truth or dare?” Spencer said coming closer to you

“Truth” you responded almost instantly

“Why is American Pie your favorite movie?” he asked, and the question genualy threw you off

“I know most people think it’s a really stupid movie, but even in those crazy scenarios, the guys get to laugh, and learn about life, sure, it’s twisted, and watching to too your can defenetly cause issues, but I think it’s a great piece of cinematography”

“That’s impressive, altough I can’t judge, as I’ve never got arroud to watch it” Spencer said, moving a little, and turning back to your book collection

“Truth or dare, Doctor Reid?” you asked playfully

“Truth” he said chuckling, and once again, you confirmed his little laughs sent a dopamine charge into your brain that was almost adictive

“What’s your favorite thing from my collection?” you asked, moving your hand motioning your bookshelf

“While you have an impressive Aristotle collection, which I’m a big fan of, right now my favorite thing in this room is not exactly a thing, but a person” he said once again leaning into you, “Truth or dare, miss y/n?” he asked coming even closer to your face

“Truth” you asked playing it safe, as he had suddenly turned into Doctor Smooth Reid, and seeing him take charge, was a side of him, one that you were totally enjoying

“What are you thinking about right now?” he said, leaning a little closer to you

“Actually, all I can think about right now is kissing you” you admited, bitting you lower lip, but not giving him time to answer, you asked “Truth or dare?”

“Dare” Spencer said, with his eyes lingering from your eyes, to your lips and viceversa

“I dare you to kiss me” you said, and as you finished yout sentence, his hand was cupping your cheeck, his other hand was placed on your waste, and his lips were softly crashing into yours. The kiss was soft, and sweet, with a couple of bites in between. One kiss, then another one, and swiftly, Spencer made you turn, placing your back towards your bookshelf and getting closer to you, just like you, he longed for this moment, for your kiss, for your touch. You were enjoyoing yourselves way too much, when you heard a knock on your door, which made the two of you burst out laughing

“We should go back to them” Spencer said, placing a las kiss into your lips

“Maybe next Saturday you can come over, I mean, you can’t go though life without the rite of passage of watching American Pie” you said chuckling, hoping with all your flustered heard he’s say yes

“That would me wonderful, I can’t keep living like this, without watching American Pie, I mean” he said lacing his fingers with yours, and opening the door for you, so the two of you could go back to your friends, who were also laughing from the living room, as they were sure their mission of getting you together had been succesful.

Part 2

I really hope you liked it, let me know if you want part 2, as I'm pondering the idea of the American Pie date.

Kay, love you, bye 🩷

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid

455 notes · View notes

deconstructthesoup · 4 months

Text

Okay, now that all of the Bad Kids have their new art out... I can finally freak out/gush over/analyze it, because I didn't have the energy to do posts for every single one.

GUYS

Fig!!! My girl!!! The mismatched shoelaces! The bass guitar from Gorthalax! The phoenix feather earring for Ayda! The fishnet! The classic leather jacket/gray band shirt/red pleated skirt combo! The fingerless gloves! THE CHAIN WALLET!

KRISTEN IS BUTCH. Let me repeat that---KRISTEN! IS! BUTCH! And she's wearing the yellow jumpsuit that we saw in her figurine but she still has the purple in her backpack and her staff and her TIE-DIE SPORTS BRA! And she's got a new hairstyle! And a rainbow bracelet AND a lesbian bracelet! THE TEDDY BEAR! THE ICE CREAM SANDWICHES!

RIZ HAS AN UNDERCUT AND GLASSES AND HE KEPT HIS TATTOOS!!!! We've got the briefcase! We've got the angelic weapons! We've got the sword of shadows! We've got GADGETS! WE EVEN HAVE ARO/ACE RINGS! He looks so cool and nifty and crafty and BADASS! My boy has grown!

Gorgug. Oh my god, I can FEEL the "going into a worry" energy radiating from this. But he's got the axe! He's got artificer goggles and tools and a rucksack! He's FINALLY got the emo ripped jeans that he always deserved! He looks so sweet and huggable and perfect! AND HE HAS THE BIG HEADPHONES STILL!

ADAINE. My god. I love this girl so much and her art is perfect. She has patches on her jacket! We can see the cool design on her shirt! She's got high-fantasy boots and belts and she's got her new arcane sword! BOGGY IS THERE! And she looks so lovely and cool and her hair, oh my god, her hair is perfect! I'm so proud of her!

And lastly, the man, the myth, the LEGEND. Fabian looks perfect. Everything from the sword to the sheet to the expression to the tap shoes is spot-on. And his outfit? He's got harem pants! He's got a stylish shirt! He's got wraps around his hands! He's doing a dance move! Man-bun Fabian is now officially canon!

(Also, I'm never gonna shut up about how the Bad Kids are now all spellcasters, and almost all of them are different than how they were in freshman year because that's how growing up works! Fig's ditched College of Whispers as she learns to be truer to herself and has claimed the coolness of College of Lore, and she's got some warlock action to be closer to her dad! Kristen's a Twilight Domain cleric instead of the Life Domain, and I remember being so excited when that became official because that domain is so freaking cool! Riz is an Arcane Trickster, just! Like! Penny! Gorgug's an artificer as well as a barbarian, which is one of my favorite classes, and it looks like he's leaning even further into it! And we can't forget Fabian double-classing as a College of Swords bard! It's so beautiful! It's amazing! Maybe we'll get Adaine doing a martial multiclass to round out the "we're doing different things!" ANYTHING'S POSSIBLE!)

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #adaine o'shaughnessey #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #i'm never gonna shut up about this art #it's healed me i swear to god it's perfect

1K notes · View notes

lovifie · 2 months

Note

Newdad!Ghost and Newmom! Reader having their child’s first fever…

I did ramble a bit about this before having the baby, I hope you don't mind ❤️ Also, I have no experience with babies so I hope I didn't write anything completely nonsense

Back to Masterlist - Taglist Form

Simon Riley thought that he was no longer a coward.

That the years spent in the military were enough to make him a brave man.

That there was nothing left to make him stutter on his words or feel his knees wobble.

That's what he thought though.

Because ever since the second you came out of the bathroom, positive pregnancy test on hand; he's been terrified, elated but terrified.

Terrified of something bad happening, to you, to the baby, to him... The thought of leaving you alone terrified him the worst.

But nothing happened.

You were already in the last trimester, almost past your due date and everything was perfect.

Whenever you saw the nerves getting the best of Simon you jumped to console him, reassuring him everything would be fine.

He felt horrible, he should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. So plush and round with his offspring, the baby already sucking your energy.

"Big fucking bairn." As Soap once called it before getting smacked on the back of the head.

It was true, nonetheless, but still.

It was one day, when he saw you wobbling your way to the kitchen that it finally set on his mind.

He was about to be a father.

And fuck if he wasn't going to be the best one out there.

Now that it was the third trimester he could finally put in his parental leave, going home to you and helping with everything.

He finally got to building the crib, fixing the leaky faucet, changing the clothes in the closet for the winter one.

Everything was ready.

He wasn't, of course; when the contractions finally started. And he panicked when you said it was too early to go to the hospital.

5:40. That was the rule you keep repeating.

40 seconds contraction, every 5 minutes.

But he still struggled to stay strong whenever you would groan, holding onto the sink to steady yourself to breathe.

Once he finally managed to get you to the hospital, everything became a blur. He barely managed to send your family a message about the baby coming, and when he went to notify his family, he simply sent Price a message that said: "Baby now. Hospital."

Everything went smoothly, pride overflowing from his heart whenever he would look at you. He was hypnotized by the baby; looking so much like you but his features still looking back at him.

He kissed your forehead, thanking you for reviving Simon Riley. The man he buried so long ago, now rebirth as your daughter's dad.

He could feel people coming in and out of the room but completely ignored them, too busy staring at you and the baby.

Gaz even made you laugh, talking about how he thought pregnancy brain only happened to moms and that he thought Simon must have hit his head on the way in.

The look of unfiltered fear on the four men when the newborn started fussing around from the crib made you laugh. They quickly turned to see what the threat was, only for the baby to start crying at the top of her tiny lungs making the four men jump.

"She must be hungry." You say, leaning forward and looking at Simon. "Can you hand her to me, Si?"

He immediately did, holding the tiny baby with all the care the mountain of a man could muster. Passing her to you, and turning to the men talking about decency and giving you privacy.

They walked out, Price dropping a kiss on your head congratulating you once more on the job well done, leaving you, Simon and the baby.

The three of you.

His tiny family.

That he would kill and die in order to protect.

So he found himself useless, looking at you trying to calm the baby down when she wouldn't stop crying and her fever would keep rising.

He was at the door frame, seeing you pace the room, cleaning the baby's face with a damp cloth. He could see it on your face, the worry, the exhaustion, the fear... How have you hidden it so well? How has he not seen it before?

"She's over 39°, Si." You say, voice trembling with the knot in your throat.

"Let's go to the hospital." He said, grabbing the baby bag and your coat, and opening the door. He could see your doubt, the fear of what taking the baby back to the hospital meant for you. "C'mon, mama. The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll be back."

He needed to be strong right now, he has laid back for long enough. He saw the little cracks on you and he was going to fill them before you noticed them.

Simon Riley thought he was brave.

But he has never been as afraid as when he was driving, baby in the car seat and you sitting beside him in the back. Silent tears sliding down your face as you apologised to the crying baby.

It made him want to skip every red light, get there as soon as possible, so the doctors could tell you that you made the right choice, that you did a good job.

But he would rather relive his nightmare of a life a thousand times before doing such a stupid thing of putting you both at risk.

He sees the way you hug yourself when the nurse takes the baby away, and he quickly engulfs you in a hug. Protecting you from the cold of the night, protecting you from every danger outside and protecting you from every thought inside your brain.

"Everything is going to be alright, mama." He says, kissing your head. Heart sinking when he hears you sob and hug him back. "Everything will be alright, this happens, babies get sick sometimes. It doesn't mean you aren't doing a hell of a job, alright?"

You sob on his chest, tugging his shirt on your hands.

"You are an amazing mother, love. You are doing an amazing job. Our little tadpole has the best mom in the world." He says, swinging softly side to side, rocking you, petting your head. "She'll be fine. She's brave just like you, love. She'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Because Simon Riley always thought he was brave, but as long as you two were alive; he was a coward and losing you both was his biggest fear.

Hi, my lovelies! 🩷

Look at me, two posts on a day! who would have thought? Not me!

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr

#call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod #ghost cod #simon riley imagine #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #simon imagine #ghost imagine #simon ghost imagine #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #female reader #x female reader

444 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 3 months

Note

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where she visit him at the paddock with their children? (He's at Aston Martin) Just something fluff and cute. Thanks!!

Well if it isn't the best Alonso! Fernando Alonso x GreekWife! Reader + Kids

Plot: You come to the paddock for a day, as everyone’s fav Alonso Family Member!

Credit to rb19 for the GIF

“Well If it isn’t the best Alonso” Lance says as you walk into the paddock. You smile at the younger Canadian and pull him into a hug.

“Oh wait, no no no these are the better Alonso’s he grins as he sees your three angels trailing behind you. You had Fernando Jr, who was currently 10. He had of course taken after his father and your husband had taken him karting on his 4th birthday.

Of course they both came back ecstatic, your husband claiming that your son was a prodigy and took all the talent for racing from him. You were happy as he’d explained to you when you first got pregnant that he would be so happy if your kids turned out to like racing and cars as much as he did.

Then there was your daughter, who was currently looking around the garage trying to find the one person she really wanted to see, her name was Iris, taking from your Greek heritage. She was a bundle of joy especially when she came to the paddock. Even at 7 years old she spoke maturely to all the drivers she interacted with, asking them questions about the cars and their lives.

Iris, despite her name was a total Daddy’s girl and would cry when her dad left for races you couldn’t bring them too, and would be elated when he came home. She was glued to his side all the time when he was there with her, which often made her older brother jealous but also got her into karting.

Fernando couldn’t believe his luck when Iris had practically begged him to take her carting with Fernando Jr. He loved watching them race against each other when her brother wasn’t racing in a competition.

Where Iris drove against her older brother she caught up very quickly being a lot better than the kids her age. She wasn’t only a good driver but she was a quick thinker too, something her brother was still learning. They had some heated, yet childish arguments but it wasn’t anything ice cream couldn’t fix.

3 years after you had Iris, you had another child, another girl who Fernando wanted to call Isabella. Bella was now 4 and was shyer than her older siblings and was a total mummy’s girl. She liked princesses and dolls and liked dressing up with her mum watching.

You loved your first two children obviously, but you would never want to take away from the bond they had with their dad. Of course you had your own special bond with them, and they adored you but they clearly had an affiliation with their father because of their love for karting.

So when Isabella started to show signs of loving your hobby or fashion and shopping you were more than excited. You used her a model for your fashion boutique/line that you owned, you were actually a pretty big name in the fashion industry.

You were know as the up and coming Donnatella.

Isabella loved playing with you, and she enjoyed watching her dad… normally form afar. She didn’t like the loud noises that came from the cars when they went 200mph round the tracks.

Fernando was happy you finally had a mini you that you could dress up in all your outfits and style her hair with cute bows unlike Iris who liked her hair accessory free unless it was a hair tie.

You were currently pregnant with yours and your husbands final children which of course happened to be twins.

As you were both getting older, there were more risks with pregnancy and birthing for you. So you agreed that the two little lives growing inside your right now would be your last.

Everyone loved when Fernandos family came to the paddock. You all would what’s bring the best energy with you. Everyone in Aston Martin waited for you to grace them with your baked good that would put the catering staff in all the paddocks hospitality units to shame.

“Hello Lance, how are you!” You exclaim, as you release him from the hug, Bella tugs at the end of your dress looking up at you. You grin and lift the young girl up. You were about 3 months pregnant right now, so still holding your daughter was no issues

“Mum, can we go look for dad please. We want to see his car” Fernando Jr asks, looking at you with his puppy dog eyes. You look away, trying to find someone trust worthy amount the busy mechanics. You spot one of your favourites calling out to him.

“Sorry to be a pain, I know your busy but would you mind taking these too to the garage to find Nando?” You ask and he nods immediately and both your children thank you with big grins before following the mechanic talking his ear off while they do.

“Sorry Lance, that was so rude of me. How are you?” You ask feeling your daughter rest her head on your shoulder, already tired with all the walking and people.

“No it’s no problem. And I’m good, how are you. Fernando told me you were glowing and he was so right” he grins looking at you and then your small little bump that was showing of from the dress you were wearing.

“Stopppppp thank you Lance, me and Fernando actually had a question for you” you grin.

“Go on, I’m scared now!” He says, eyes widening slightly.

“Well, we want you to be the god father to the twins!” You grin smiling. He stands there in shock, not to sure what to say. This was such a big thing.

“Obviously you can say no, but we thought it was fitting where Felipe is Fernando Jr’s god father because he was born in 2013 when he was racing for Ferrari, and then Jenson is Iris God Father as she was born in 2016. And then Bella was born when he had a break because I was struggling a little so my friends were prioritised for Bella. But now that he’s back racing and he has a teammate like you we were wondering if you’d, you know take us up on the offer”

“Oh my god. Of course I will I can’t believe you guys thought of me” Lance says pulling you into another hug.

“You were the first person he suggested” you say, your accent coming out a little more as your voice cracks, you could curse those pregnancy emotions right now.

“Im going to take a walk to the garage. See if Iris has already escaped to go see Jenson and crash one of his interviews again. I swear he doesn’t care that, that kid threatens his job sometimes” you chuckle remember the time she threw a tantrum when Fernando tried to take her away from an interview he was doing with Carlos Sainz and so they let her sit on his lap for the whole interview.

“Okay, ooo wait. Can I have a brownie please?” He asks rubbing his hands together hoping you have your delicious chocolate creations.

“Oh I almost forgot!” You smile handing him two that he happily took, before wondering to go and find Sebastian Vettel to tell him the amazing news.

You walk through the Aston Martin hospitality handing out your treats to anyone who comes up to you with a pleading look on their face before they taste test and pure foodgasms come every time. Bella had slightly perked up and was now more interested that people were talking to her and complimenting her outfit.

You eventually find Fernando and your two other children are already with him. Iris is sat in the car while one for the mechanics is helping your son hold the heavy wheel gun up to the wheel while admin takes lots of pictures.

“Hello hello” you breeze into the room. Your husband comes over to you lifting you up and twirling you going before pulling you into a bruising kiss.

“I missed you” he mumbles looking over you, a hand rubbing over your stomach almost as if to make sure everything is okay with you and the babies.

“I missed you to mi amor” you say in your husbands language.

“I love you αστέρι μου (my star)” he says in Greek. It was a little thing you guys did, to show appreciation for the other.

“Oh and I missed you too, my little Princess” your husband grins looking at your daughter who was jumping at the ball of her feet to get some attention from her father. He lifts her up and spins her around making a melody of giggles sound through the garage.

“Im glad you all came, mi familia” Fernando sighs opening his arms for all the rest of you to join as he pulls you into the hug from his left arm.

“Anything for you” you say, kissing his cheek. He turns to look at you, placing a soft kiss in your lips.

“So is daddy going to win today? Max has been tough this season!” Your daughter admits, crossing her arms, she was obsessed with watching her dads glory days, and coming in to see a Lewis and Max domination was hard. No matter she always cheered on and supported her dad.

“Im going to try my very hardest” Fernando smiles kissing her forehead and all of your heads snap up as your heart the click of a camera.

“Sorry, but you all look so cute” the social media guy said with an awkward blush.

“Oh please please send that to me. I just know your grandmother with love this. She’s been missing you guys, we haven’t seen her since we went her in Greece in the summer break” you say looking down at the kids.

“Can we go back to both Spain and Greece in the summer holiday! Englands getting boring” Fernando Jr jokes, he was the only one born in Spain, after you guys had Iris in Greece and then you moved to the UK so your husband could be closer to the Aston Martin HQ.

“Yes baby, we’ll time it around dads break and your school break. You guys are lucky it’s half term” you nod a them. As serious as they were about karting you also wanted them to have a decent level of education behind them.

“Yes!” The oldest too cheer, before they spot different people they want to go see that send them running off out the garage.

“I could get used to this” Fernando smiles looking down at his daughter in his arms, and placing his other arm to wrap around your waist.

“You know I won’t be able to travel soon, and it’s gonna put a stain on us” you sniffle those silly emotions coming back.

“I know. But I’ve already got a plan, I’ll be coming home more when I can, and I’ll be free when you give birth if not they are happy for me to have a reserve for that weekend” he reassured you.

“What did I ever do to deserve you” you smile, as he wipes away the tears that had started to come down you face. And kisses your cheeks, before laying his head into the crook of your neck.

“I love you”

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fluff #fa14 #fa14 x reader #fa14 imagine

718 notes · View notes

thermodynamic-comedian · 1 month

Text

just realizing that the way i currently envision the oiar gang is like

beautiful fluffy baby cow with the most gorgeous dark eyes taken human form

hot girl at the punk concert that you briefly fall in love with after she helps you up when you fall over in the moshpit

aww, look! the judgy blonde rich girl from every single high school movie's all grown up!

quiet metalhead uncle that you get along with really well, even though the only conversations you ever have are like "hi" "hey"

me. literally just how i look in real life. except maybe the slightest bit more femme. i'm truly confused because we sound and act nothing alike. but somehow i know celia has brown hair and round glasses.

low-energy dark-haired lesbian that gets adopted into a friendgroup of 40 year old dads at a the mountain goats concert because she expressed the right opinions on alcoholic beverages

#in case you can't tell:#samama khalid #alice dyer #gwen bouchard #colin becher #celia ripley #lena kelley #in that order.#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp headcanons #tmagp shitpost

314 notes · View notes

your-nanas-house · 5 months

Text

Fuck...ing mommy

◇ Pairing: Robert Fisher X Stepmom!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, cowgirl, blowjob, handjob, p in v, boobies job, stepmom x stepson, kissing, age gap (Robert 25 and Y/n 39) mention of impotence and an unhappy forced marriage.

◇ Summary: After a mistake Y/n made things go pretty intense in the penthouse.

◇ Note: An AMAZING collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989 , a wild one. Hope you enjoy...👏.

It definitely wasn't a good day, at least not for Robert as he got out of the car, slamming the door out of anger. Maurice Fischer was in a horrible mood today, and he didn't have any issues with taking it out on his son. Whole day Robert had to deal with backhanded comments and getting called names on every minor mistake.

That’s why, as soon as his shift was over, he jumped into the car pulling off the parking lot as fast as he could. Fishing in his pocket for a card to enter the penthouse they were currently sharing because of the flood in his own apartment a couple levels lower.

The front door made a soft click noise as he entered, allowing him to enter and throw his suitcase on the couch with a deep sigh.

The silence echoing through the space was… unusual, but since it was one of the first times this year when he was home this early, he brushed it off. His stepmom was the usual one to keep the house, with her energy… she was probably busy, at that time, with the chores his dad had left her, so that was probably the reason because she wasn’t near the front door, ready to greet him at the entrance, offering something to eat and a small talk.

The young man sighed loudly, his frustration clear as he tried to free himself from the tie that was getting tighter and tighter in his mind. His coat hanging where it should, his rich shoes resting right beneath.

A scoff escaping his lips when he saw a crease in the tie his mom had gifted him on his 18th birthday.. he needed to fix it, quickly. With a steady and quick pace he walked to his father’s bedroom to grab the number of their trustworthy dry cleaner.

His mind was long gone in the worries concerning his participation in business, and repeating the stressful situations that happened that particular day, so he wasn't paying attention.

As he walked in the room, his light blue eyes on the floor while walking with a goal, a feminine and sensual voice brought him back to reality, making him freeze in place. “Home earlier, huh” the voice purred, attracting his gaze in a magnetic way.

His heart was beating like crazy at the view that he had in front of him… his stepmom was on all four, thin lacy lingerie “covering” the best parts of her mature and feminine body, Her ass sticking out, up in the air as the fabric of the thong, almost completely trapped between her round firm cheeks… her back arched in a delicious way, allowing her round big breasts to press against the soft mattress, the lacy red cloth rubbing slightly against the quilts as she wiggled her butt and that way all her body. Her nylon stockings hugging her long legs, stopping mid-thighs, held by her matching garters in a teasing but extremely seductive way.

“Been working all day, honey” she whispered, arching her back more. Robert’s body got more worked up as his eyes slowly widened and stared shamelessly at her, noticing the silky blindfold that covered her eyes… sinfully angelic, he thought.

“All day long for you” she interrupted his trance in a smooth, silky voice that caressed his mind in the most pleasurable way. It felt like… honey almost, buttery soft tone with a hint of desperation— a deadly combination which on top of the unusually delicious sight, made his mind go blank, and his cock hard at an alarming rate.

With good timing, almost like she knew what she was doing, Y/n smiled, biting her bottom lip while she slid smoothly down on the bed, her body flat against the mattress… her round, perky ass was so noticeable, even in that position.

“I think I deserve a little reward, don’t you agree?” she teased, making Robert’s gaze race back and forth from her barely covered body, to her beautiful face. Little reward? He chuckled internally. That poor lady, Robert thought as he remembered that she was sleeping with his old father.

I'd give you a huge one, his snug mind added, as his hard cock twitched in his pants.

The older woman rolled on her back slowly in a sensual way, her hands playing with her hair before she pushed her breasts together, tongue swirling over her plump lips.

”I need it. Now.” She breathed out, rolling over on her belly again. With the wine red blindfold still intact, she crawled upwards, towards the end of the bed.

Seeing that the situation was progressing with each second, Robert's mind tried to fight the desperate urge to just.. give her what she wanted, because he shouldn't.

Of course he shouldn't, after all it was his.. stepmother.

As soon as she reached blindly in the air, he couldn't help but not leave her hanging, he wanted to be a good stepson for her.

With one single step he closed the distance between the bed and his shins, as he stood right next to the bed.

With a hungry smile on her lips, she reached for his thighs, pressing her hands flat against the material of his expensive pants rubbing them up and down.

”Mmm I've been hungry all day.” She murmured softly, biting her bottom lip softly brushing her face against his clothed boner… her tongue daring to come out to lick the fabric of his suit pants, before rubbing her cheek against it… letting a purr escape her. Damn if he was lucky that she was so disgusted by his father to have to wear a blindfold behind the closed door of their bedroom.

Consequently a long desperate sigh left her lips, which were pressed against Robert’s lower stomach… After she pulled it out of the pants,(don’t like it) she reached for the button, opening it up with a swift move. Draping her little fingers over the band of his boxers, she slowly pulled them down with a smile.

A smile that quickly turned into confusion as a huge penis jumped out of the underwear, hitting her in the face. Knowing exactly how.. not well endowed Maurice was, her suspicions arose as she tried to wrap her hand around the massive girth, unsuccessfully.

Her blood run cold, she quickly got pale as worry and fear slapped her out from her horny state “Maurice-–” she murmured, her voice cracking due to all the emotions.

Robert shivered, his mouth softly open, as he thrusted unintentionally forward, his leaking tip touching her slightly open mouth, smearing his precum against her lips… making her hand tighten around his thick cock and her body jolting back.

Y/n quickly removed the blindfold to reveal her wide eyes

“ROBERT!” she exclaimed, jumping off the king size bed so that she could grab a robe and cover her half-naked self in pure panic and shock. “Oh my god, dear. I’m so sorry, I.. I thought it was your father” she quickly explained, blaming herself without hesitance.. her view of her stepson innocent, seeing him as too young for this kind of thing.

Robert opened his mouth, attempting to say something.. anything as he tucked his rock hard cock back into his pants in a rush, his eyes staring at her tongue which cleaned her lips from him.

As soon as he managed to do so, they heard a slam of the front door.

”I’m home!” Maurice yelled in that typical, grumpy and annoyed voice. This man was forever unsatisfied.

Hearing it, Robert looked Y/n the eyes again, shooting her last apologizing look before retreating from her bedroom, and rushing to his own bedroom.

Y/n was frozen, standing in her room and hugging herself lightly, trying to shake off the guilt of the fact that… she liked the view of her stepson with his cock in her hand.

Admitting easily to herself that it was the most exciting sexual encounter she had for the last few years, ever since she married her husband… and the way his dick felt in her hand, she thought before quickly shaking her head. I need to stop, she added internally before heading to the bathroom to take a shower, rubbing her temples while trying to think about the chores she had to do before the day would have ended.

~~~~

The morning after the older woman woke up like usual, she prepared breakfast for everyone, leaving it in the kitchen before starting to take care of the house like the good housewife Maurice wanted her to be.

She managed to clean up their bedroom and the bathroom before she started to gather around the dirty clothes around the house, a soft music following her as she walked around. Entering what was Robert’s childhood bedroom without any worries, confident it was empty since the time and her everyday life would suggest that he was at work as well, since Maurice was long gone… in all the years ever since she joined the Fischer family, it was the first time for her to live together with Robert.

So it came up as an extreme surprise when she found him still in bed, his hair a handsome mess, a sleepy expression on his face… one hand on his stomach and the other behind his head, a clear visible bulge covered by the blanket that was covering him.

“Oh gosh, sorry, darling. I thought you were already at work” she explained, focusing her eyes on the dirty laundry basket, not noticing her stepson’s lazy gaze traveling all over her body, taking in her outfit. Silky white shorts, a revealing almost see-through tank top that allowed him to see her bare chest under the white fabric… her hard nipples pressing against it.

Robert’s body getting more and more excited at the view, his already hard-rock cock twitching and leaking, almost wetting his pajama pants… luckily not the blanket as well.

“I’m here to take the dirty laundry, honey. Can you show—” she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes stopping on her stepson who was sitting on his bed, his morning-wood so deliciously noticeable now.

His veiny hands pulled up his shirt, revealing his muscular abdomen and hair path under the navel. As the shirt went up further, she couldn't tear her gaze away from his muscular pecs and smooth, broad shoulders.… short dark chest-hair peppering his upper chest in an almost aesthetic way. Y/n’s jaw fell slack, at the utter shock she felt.

In her eyes, he was always so… innocent. Delicate and broken.

The same man she saw as a boy… was now boldly looking her straight in the eyes with the confidence that made her feel intimidated. Something she hasn't felt… for a while.

Gulping the knot that formed in her throat, she kept staring even though Robert was witnessing her hungry gaze.

With one eyebrow raised in a cocky manner, Robert rose from his bed, standing a few feet across Y/n. Without a second of doubt, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, standing completely naked in front of a woman that should be… like a mother to him.

Y/n’s eyes were wide open, as the laundry basket fell to her feet. She wasn't able to hold it, not when that massive cock that she tasted not so long ago, stood proudly looking right into her eyes. The pink tip was leaking with a clear fluid as it throbbed slightly.

Robert picked his pajamas from the floor, coming closer as he handed it to Y/n looking down at her with a serious expression.

”There you go” he said in a low, raspy voice as his Adam's apple bobbed on his throat. He could see the hunger written all over her face, he just… needed to push a little further to make her take the first step.

Her eyes closed for a brief moment, she cursed under her breath while picking back up the basket, placing his clothes in it before trying to focus on something else… like the sock that “dropped” from the bushel.

The older woman shifted, bending automatically down to grab the piece of clothing and place it back in place… accidentally brushing Robert's erect cock with her round ass, earning a low grunt from him.

As the younger man shook softly because of the jolt of pleasure, Y/n's reacted immediately as the panic settled, making her turn around without thinking… so that she could check on her stepson, worried to have hurt him somehow.

“Oh gosh, sweetie, sor—” she tried to apologize, freezing as soon as the leaking organ slapped her across the face making her gasps softly…and Robert groan. He was so glad of her clumsiness.

Her eyes were blown out, her mouth slightly agape, while her body completely froze in place… the air making her notice the pre-cum which had painted her beautiful face.

“Shit, mama, are you trying to kill me or something?” Robert murmured under his breath, his big hand now holding the base of it as his heavy balls tightened visibly, getting her attention immediately.

Robert noticed it, a mischievous smirk appearing on his lips as he gripped it harder. ”Are you okay?” He asked with a hint of mockery in his voice.

It took her a moment to try to speak, words dying down her throat as she just hummed a confirmation… not really registering his question. Robert chuckled, seeing her state. He had the upper hand now.

His left hand slowly moved onto her head as she didn't move from the spot so close to him. His right hand stroked his length lazily as the other one caressed her hair gently, scratching her scalp softly.

”Do you need something, mum?.. huh?” he couldn't help but keep teasing, seeing her hungry eyes staring at his pulsing, veiny cock.

She glanced up, hearing the tone of his voice, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly before she finally spoke

“Seems like you're the one who needs something, eh… mommy doesn't like being mocked” she informed him, licking his angry red tip without warming— collecting the pre-cum that was threatening to drop. He didn't expect it, at all, and his head flew back immediately, followed by a hiss, due to the sudden sensation of her warm tongue on his sensitive tip.

”Fuck!” He spat out, grabbing a hold of her head.

His beautiful eyes fluttering shut as he felt the warmth of her mouth wrapped around him. His patience was basically non existent as he saw her, kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth. Robert’s hand pulled her head down, making her choke around his girthy member as he hit the back of her throat with each thrust.

His heart pounding inside of his chest as his hips speed up the pace, wet, slapping noises filling his bedroom in a sinful but delicious way. Robert couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight.

Y/n struggled to contain all of him in her throat, saliva dripping down her chin along with the tears that fell from her eyes. She was a mess, all because of him.

”That’s a good mummy” He hissed out, pulling her down and keeping all of his cock down her throat for a few longer moments.

Y/n silently prayed that he would let go of her head soon, as she couldn't breathe around his thick cock that filled up all of her throat to the brim. A musky, masculine scent hitting her nostrils since her nose got pulled against his pelvis… her chin making contact with his balls with each move, as he greedily kept pressing her against his body.

As time passed, her hands tried to claw his muscular thighs.. her nails digging in his pale freckled skin as a warning to let her go.

He finally got the message, pulling her away with a hiss as Y/n eagerly tried to catch a breath. His cock was a mess, completely covered with spit and throbbing. The red color showing how desperate he was for release.

”Get up” He commanded suddenly, grabbing a hold of her shoulders before pulling her up.

As soon as Y/n got on her feet and managed to clean her face, she came closer grabbing his jaw suddenly… making Robert’s eyes go wide in surprise.

”Look, sweetheart…” She started out before the other hand went to grab his needy cock.. a little too hard for his liking, causing him to wince.

”You won't tell me what to do, baby. I’m your mommy not your slut” she whispered into his ear, the grip on his member tightening even more. ”Got the message?” She asked with the sweetest mum voice she could pull off, making him nod obediently. ”Good boy” she praised softly.

As soon as the last words left her lips, she pushed him on his king sized bed, watching as he stared at her. Like she was the most beautiful thing on the earth.

Y/n smiled seeing it, as she undressed slowly, putting on a bit of a show. Before he knew it, she was straddling his thighs and stroking his pink cock with both hands.

Her touch was soft but determinate, she wanted something and was for sure going to get it…. To take it from him.

Robert's body was shaking in pleasure now, her teasing touch was driving him crazy… making his back arch and his breath go heavier.

“Y/n—” he hissed, making it sound almost like a curse or invite/suggestion to speed things up. Hearing it, she looked up angrily, one of her hands landing a harsh slap on his face.

”That wasn't right now, was it?” She asked, still stroking his dick. ”What do you call your mummy, Robert?” Her tone was so soft and gentle, that he almost believed her good intentions.

”M..mommy.” He repeated with a whine, making Y/n chuckle.

”Good boy” She praised, leaning down and kissing his tip. “Such.. a good boy” she hummed at the taste as soon as she licked her lips clean.

Her free hand wandered on her stomach… slowly up to her bare breasts to play with her nipples. Taking a small break from the handjob to focus on her own body, pinching and brushing her thumbs on her erect nipples… causing her back to arch and her hips to shift against Robert's.

Her eyes glancing down, meeting his amazed gaze before she leaned down her chest now hovering above his face in a teasing way.

His stare daring to move from her tits to her eyes, stretching his neck to reach her face as soon as he noticed her leaning in for a kiss… A long, passionate and sweet kiss that got more intense as she grinded her bare pussy against his cock.

It didn't last that long since the older woman was getting a bit impatient by the mere feeling of his responsive length.

“Getting mommy all wet, huh?” she whispered, biting her bottom lip, excited by the situation “Can you get your mama's titties wet too, honey?” she requested sweetly, lowering her chest so that he could reach it with his mouth.

The pressure her teeth were giving to her bottom lip increased as Robert attacked her swollen chest, hiding his face between what he was willing to call heaven so that he could wet them just as his mommy had requested him…. Licking, mouthing and spitting on them till she was satisfied enough.

Enough to move away and kneel down back on the floor, happy to rest her legs on a soft carpet instead of a cold floor. Her hands busy teasing her breasts close to his cock before finally squeezing it between them.

A hum left her body as she watched Robert react to her actions, bouncing with the thrusts he was giving as he fucked desperately her boobs.

“Mommy!” He whined, increasing his speed desperate for more, his balls now slapping against her tits every time he made them reach the base of his member.

“Yes, my good boy” she cooed, letting him hold her big breasts as he wanted, so that she could reach his balls with her small hands, playing around with them while her eyes watched his cock appear and disappear between her chest.

Her eyes closing quickly and her mouth opening as he shuttered, thrusting up his hips before freezing completely.. shooting his load on her face and boobs, earning a soft hum of approval from her.

Robert was panting, his eyes still blown out at what just happened. Y/n watched him with a grin as she scooped up some cum with her fingers, before shoving them in her mouth with a hum.

”Fucking naughty” Robert scoffed with a smile, watching her.

With her actions, it didn't take a long time for him to grow hard again, and Y/n wasn't shy about watching the whole process. Her gaze didn't falter for a moment as she stared at his cock growing harder, bigger with each passing second before he was ready again.

I missed it, she thought, thinking of how long it always took for Maurice to get ready, if she was lucky enough that he'll.. get ready at all, that is.

Robert’s hands remained above his head as he watched her get up, rubbing her clit lightly with a quiet purr. Coming closer, she threw her leg over his, straddling his lap while grabbing his cock in her small hand, stroking it again. He was still quite sensitive, so he hissed quietly at the sensation.

”Fuck.. give me a moment, mommy” He asked, but Y/n just shook her head, lining him up with her slick entrance.

”I waited long enough.” She responded almost arrogantly with a smile, as she slammed down taking all of his impressive length into her tight heat with a loud moan.

Her back arched at the sensation, she could feel him filling her up completely, a bulge present in her lower stomach. “So big, baby” she moaned out impressed, squeezing her walls teasingly around his cock, earning a low desperate moan from him.

“So-fucking-big” she murmured through gritted teeth, bouncing hard at each word “Want to…feel you deep balls inside of me, baby!” she quickly added, rolling sensually her hips with the goal to reach her own peak.

Her smaller hands resting on his abs before moving in a teasing pace up to his pecs… remaining there for support, so that she could finally bounce wildly on his length. Accepting the stretching feeling and the pain mixed to a pleasure she didn't feel in ages.

“Fucking hell” she cursed, her ass smacking against his thighs at every rough and fast bounce— her breasts following the movements of her body, moving in a hypnotic way, making her look like a tiny angel who was there to ride the sin out of him or so was Robert's view of that moment.

They both missed the sensation of passionate sex, and the thrill of the “taboo” to all of it was just an addition.

He so desperately wanted to wrap his bruised lips around her nipples, suckling on them like a needy infant… burying his cock deeper inside of her cunt, railing it till they would have both reached their peaks. He was quite sure that his father never gave her an orgasm before, and even if he did, it wouldn't come close to the one HE would have given her now.

”So… beautiful” He breathed out with half-closed eyes as he kept moving, trying to spend all of his cum inside her as soon as his climax started to hit his whole body, making his muscles relax under her touch.

His eyes rolled back as she continued to bounce, milking his cock as another orgasms built up not long after.

His hips shuttered upwards and his hands grabbed her hips, rolling her in a quick motion with the back against the mattress so that he could fuck his cum deep inside of her sensitive pussy making her squirm. His head was buried in her breasts all along, even as he kept pumping.

The pleasure so strong that Y/n didn't pay attention to her top half enough to notice.

Only after a couple minutes, Robert slowed down to a stop, laying on top of her with his mouth still attached to her hardened nipples as he kept sucking.

Y/n sighed deeply in satisfaction, looking down at him with a grin and cocked eyebrow.

”Well… are you hungry, baby?” She asked with a giggle, patting his head. Robert tilted his head to the side, laying on her breasts with a cute little smile.

”Mhmmm.” He hummed softly.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

#robert fischer #robert fischer x y/n #robert fischer x you #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy inception

404 notes · View notes

vampykween · 6 months

Text

Second Chances (part 1)

i wanted to write about singledad!ghost x teacher!reader (which is so self indulgent as im a teacher hehe) and thus this was born summary: little poppy is simon riley's entire world and you've just had yours turned completely upside down. despite everything, it seems like everything falls into place when you're with each other. this is going to be a little series - i already have a few drabbles written and have l more ideas up my sleeve, but feel free to let me know all of yall's ideas too!! dedicated to @suimon since you love my dad!ghost so much hehe mwah

Simon is just short of pulling his hair out. He’s spent all morning wrestling with a five-year old who, last night was bouncing off the walls excited about her first day of school, but now is inconsolable and quite frankly working his last nerve.

“Poppy, love, please just get dressed. We don’t have all morning for you to mess about.”

Poppy shrugs her shoulders and blows a raspberry right in her father’s face. “Let me go, I’m not going to school,” the five-year old squirms in her father’s grasp, less than thrilled at the prospect of getting dressed for school.

Simon briefly considers whether he should invest any more energy into their morning battle or if he should just concede and let his daughter win this round. Despite her protests, he keeps his hold on Poppy and tries his best to calm her down enough to reason with her. Sometimes Simon couldn’t believe this was his life, he was tussling with his daughter about getting ready for school, when in a past life all he was ever worried about was backing his team throughout a mission. He used to be a trained killer now the only thing he’s an expert at is making silly voices for all the book characters at bedtime.

“You were so excited about school just last night, what happened lovie, what’s going on with you?”

Poppy just stares at him with her big doe eyes, the ones that look exactly like her mother’s, and makes Simon’s chest ache painfully. It’s moments like these that make him feel like the grief would never end.

After a drawn-out minute, she finally squeaks out, “What if I don’t like school? What if people are mean to me?” Simon’s heart breaks at his little girl’s admission, he, of course, worried about those things too; he wasn’t sure he even wanted to send her off for hours every day, but he also knew that Poppy could handle it.

Simon grasps both of her much smaller hands, “You’re the best girl I know, what’s not to love yeah? I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends, sweetheart.” Simon isn’t sure who he’s reassuring more at this point, but he’ll say anything to get them both through this day and all the ones that come.

Poppy sighs loudly and by something short of a miracle, she concedes with getting dressed; Simon let her pick out her own outfit, in hopes that it would rekindle her previous excitement. It helped, but only marginally.

Standing in the doorway of the classroom, is not the teacher Simon had been expecting. When he thought of teachers, he imagined either super strict, uptight older women or bright and bubbly young women fresh out of university. You were neither of those – you wore a bright smile that reached your eyes, and your voice had the most warm and comforting lilt to it. Contrastingly, you were dressed head to toe in an all-black outfit, but it didn’t make you look dark and dreary, no, on you it worked quite well. Poppy finally, but reluctantly revealed herself from behind her father’s legs, and stepped forward to greet her new teacher.

“Hi! What’s your name?” you were clearly not from anywhere near, and Poppy immediately comments on it.

“My name is Poppy, like the flower, and you talk very funny.”

Simon groaned, “Poppy, that’s not very polite, love.”

“No, no it’s alright. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that this morning,” you laugh breezily, not affronted by the little girl’s observation. The sound of your laugh is like a mirage in a desert, and Simon is taken aback at how much the sound affected him. You crouch down and introduce yourself to Poppy, then rise to greet Simon as well. You hold out your hand, clearly in an attempt to shake his, and he shakes his head to clear his stupor and takes your hand. Your hands are much smaller than his own, and much softer, not calloused from battlefields and the hardships of life.

❀

You hope you’re coming off as a well put together adult, one who’s supposed to be in charge of people’s most precious gifts. Threatening to ruin your façade is the fact that you’re shaking hands with quite possibly the hottest man you’ve seen since you upturned your life and moved to London a few months ago. This is your student’s dad, jesus get a grip, you hastily remind yourself. You can’t help yourself though, and your eyes are roaming over his massive hands searching for a wedding band. You’re not sure whether it’s a good thing or not when you see there isn’t one. He’s hot, but he’s got a child, and you’ve just had your heart shattered into a million pieces this summer. The last thing you need is to be lusting after your student’s unreasonably hot father.

You’re not even sure you want to be here; nothing had gone the way you planned and now you’re a million miles away from your family – who had forewarned you that your ex maybe was not worth moving across the world for, but you were in love, you didn’t want to hear that.

Poppy, who seemingly gained some confidence, breezes past her father and finds her way easily into the classroom. You looked back up at her father, realizing you hadn’t caught his name – he tilts his head ever so slightly at you as if he’s trying to discreetly assess you and it makes your palms sweat.

“I didn’t catch your name, can’t call you Poppy’s dad all year now, can I?” you prod causally, laughing despite the stifling air that was forming between you two.

“You can call me Simon,” he replies elusively and suddenly you’re overcome with the feeling that there’s something mysterious about this man – and as attractive as he is, the revelation also makes you feel unnerved.

taglist: @happy-mushrooms @lunamoonbby

banners from @reveriesources and @cafekitsune pic creds: @ave661

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!ghost #dad!simon #simon ghost riley fluff #oc: poppy #second chances au #mic writes

864 notes · View notes

macfrog · 9 months

Text

hits different cowboy like me chapter twelve

oh, my, love is a lie! are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 10.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your – “You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.” The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.

A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.

And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.

And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.

It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.

And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.

Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?

Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?

Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.

All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.

And you fucking hate her.

That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.

Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.

What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.

And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.

Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.

Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…

Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.

You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.

You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.

Definitely – none – from –

him.

----------

Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.

Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!

Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.

On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.

Any two shifts……

Ok three????

Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol

By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.

She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.

“All black? Again?”

“I look good in black.”

“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”

“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”

“Why do I gotta be hot?”

“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”

You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.

Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.

You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.

Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.

He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.

“Ready, girls?”

Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.

And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.

Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.

You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.

Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.

“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.

“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”

“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”

“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”

Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.

Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”

“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”

Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.

Your dad does that anyway, though.

“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”

“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”

The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.

He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.

You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.

What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?

But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.

Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.

You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.

Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.

You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.

Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”

“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.

Get me –

fucking –

hammered.

----------

You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.

And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.

All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.

You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…”

You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.

“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.

“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.

Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.

“Nothin’. I’m fine.”

Until you answer him truthfully, that is.

“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”

“Well, howdy, clumsy!”

The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.

“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.

“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”

“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”

A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.

“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”

He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.

“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”

Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”

“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.

“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.

This isn’t the night for second thoughts.

The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.

His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.

And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.

Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.

V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.

“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.

V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”

“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.

He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.

You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.

A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.

“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.

“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”

Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.

You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.

“So, you’re here often, then?”

Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”

“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”

The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.

“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”

He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.

It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.

Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.

“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”

You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.

Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.

“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”

Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.

You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.

“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.

“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”

Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.

He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.

When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.

It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.

Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.

But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.

You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.

Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.

Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.

That might just be the drinks.

Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.

When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.

“Hey, what the f–?”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.

“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”

“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”

“Does it matter?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”

“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.

Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.

She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.

“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.

She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.

Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”

“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.

“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –

Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.

“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.

His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.

Only he doesn’t move.

“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.

“I don’t f-fucking think so.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”

“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”

Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.

Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.

Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –

Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.

“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.

“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”

You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.

Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.

You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.

But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.

Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”

“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.

When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.

The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.

“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”

“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.

Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.

The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.

“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”

Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.

And then he swings.

Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.

“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.

His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.

Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.

“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”

Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.

“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”

Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.

Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”

“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.

He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.

When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What you sorry for?”

You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”

He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.

“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.

“Work. Site inspection, remember?”

You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.

His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Did Sam c-call him?”

“No. Why?”

You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.

“Asked ‘im not to.”

“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”

Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.

“’s never seen me drunk.”

“Or high?”

You snort. “I’m not…”

When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.

“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”

“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”

Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”

Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”

So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.

“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.

Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.

You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.

You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.

He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.

But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.

So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?

Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.

The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.

The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?

Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.

“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.

You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.

The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.

“I said I’m good.”

“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.

“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.

“Look it.”

You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.

“Water,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”

He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.

You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.

Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.

“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.

You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.

He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.

You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.

“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”

You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.

Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.

“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.

He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.

“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.

“I know they’re bleedin’.”

“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”

He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.

Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.

It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.

“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”

You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.

Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.

“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”

You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.

“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”

Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”

“We kissed.”

“I know that, too.”

“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”

The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.

“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”

His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.

“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”

And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.

“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”

And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.

Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”

He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”

He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.

“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.

“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”

You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.

“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.

You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.

“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.

Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”

Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.

“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”

“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”

“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.

“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”

You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”

“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”

“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.

“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”

“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.

“Kid–”

“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”

“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”

Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.

He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”

“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”

Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.

You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”

“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”

“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.

Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”

You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.

Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.

“Just - take me to bed.”

He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.

You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.

Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.

He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.

You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.

Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.

He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.

His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.

Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.

“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”

He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.

Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.

“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”

He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.

And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.

He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.

His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.

And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.

----------

The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.

He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.

You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.

He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.

“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.

The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.

Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.

He’s been in here.

“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.

You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.

You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.

You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.

“H-hi, Dad.”

You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.

“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m gonn–”

“Where’s Joel?”

Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.

“Huh?”

“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”

“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.

“He text you?”

He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”

Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.

“See ya in a few hours.”

When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.

He has one unread text from Joel.

You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.

Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.

You scroll further back.

Joel: She okay?

Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?

Further back still.

Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠

Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.

You scroll until your eyes hurt.

Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.

Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV

Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself

You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.

Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.

You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

She’s a sweetheart.

Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.

You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –

Then, you break.

It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.

There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.

Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.

And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.

Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You are – fucked.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged

@blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @alejaa-a @dindjarinsbeskarbunny @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @dissentientss @hopplessilse @vickywallace @lelifesaver @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @caitispunk @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

963 notes · View notes

tahdashi · 1 year

Text

WHEN HIS BABY WANTS A BOYFRIEND. . .

✫ ft. dad!akaashi, osamu, sakusa, and kuroo

✫ a/n: more dad!hq hcs bc they're all i think about !!! they're all girl dads here, and i imagine their daughters to be around 4-5 years old!

✫ AKAASHI's eyes widen the second he hears his baby girl's sweet voice, her words not making it through to his head completely. keiji looks at her attentively, silence lining his lips. "why do you want a boyfriend, sweetheart?" his mind starts to race. he begins generating countless possibilities of what brought this up — perhaps he isn't giving her enough attention? he has been staying later at work... he starts thinking about how lonely she must feel at daycare as she waits for her dad to come pick her up. her little hands grab at his pant leg, pulling him out of his trance.

"i wanna wear a wedding dress!" she squeals — unlike her father, she's the most excitable ball of energy he's ever witnessed (but second to his best friend, of course). he's at a loss for words. the thought of his little angel wearing a wedding dress takes years off his life, not to be dramatic. his heart beats rapidly in his chest, and he crouches down to her level, pulling her close to his chest.

"i can get you a pretty dress, love. no need to worry about boyfriends, okay?" he consoles her, and she jumps up and down at the thought of wearing a pretty white dress. the next day, keiji picks her up from daycare with a large shopping bag. and when his baby peers over the top of the bag, she sees a big, fluffy tulle dress wrapped around a tiny crown. he kisses her round cheeks, telling her that she's always going to be his princess.

✫ OSAMU puts his spoon down gently before reaching over the table to wipe sauce off her chin. "a what?" he guffaws, not knowing if she's joking or not.

"a boyfriend!" she repeats, crossing her arms and looking up at her dad from her little seat at their dining table.

"why?"

"because," she shrugs. she goes back to eating as if she never said those heart-stopping words.

"because?" at this point, osamu's lost his appetite. there's no way his little girl who asks her papa to hold her up to the sink so she can wash her hands and sing her "clean-my-hands" song is asking for a boyfriend, of all things. she stands up on her seat and puts her hands on her hips (which is nothing new to osamu — she's always been this sassy).

"i wanna marry suna, so he has to be my boyfriend first." osamu brings his fingers to his temple, rubbing circles there before correcting her.

"uncle suna."

"suna! he said i could call him suna," she replies, playing with the animal-shaped vegetables on her plate.

a deep sigh escapes osamu's chest, and he's rubbing at his temple even faster than before. to make matters worse, she jumps off her seat and runs to her dad's room to grab his phone, hitting suna's contact on the way back to the table. watching it all go down, osamu frowns when suna greets his daughter with a "hello, miss miya~."

"hello, suna! papa thinks i'm not allowed to call you suna. can i?" suna's affirmative hum only baffles osamu more, and he can't help but smile at their odd friendship.

"alright, alright, no phones at the dinner table, missy," he grabs the phone from her little hands before hanging up on suna. she whines, but climbs back into her seat to shove a spoonful of rice into her chubby cheeks.

"see! he's gonna be my boyfriend," she chews her words. "and! i'm gonna make him pinky swear to marry me."

and with that, osamu picks up his plate and brings it to the sink, a stress vein popping along his forehead. that night, he holds her a little closer than usual, wanting her to stay this joyful forever.

✫ SAKUSA comes to a halt, stopping her in her tracks, too. his hand grasps hers just a little tighter. she looks up at him through her dark curls, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion (just like his).

"why do you want a boyfriend, angel?" his thumb runs along the back of her hand to calm himself down, really.

"my friends have boyfriends! i want one too!" her fingers tug at his tightly, urging him to keep walking towards the playground.

"oh, yeah? well, they're too young for boyfriends," kiyoomi reasons with his daughter.

"but i'm 5! that's older than before," she stomps lightly. and if it wasn't for this conversation, he'd pinch her cheeks and tell her to take a deep breath before letting her frustrations take over, but he's somewhat entertained at her thoughts. she just wants to be like her friends, and that's understandable, but the thought of her getting close to a boy makes him take a few deep breaths.

"wait 10 more years, and i'll consider letting you talk to boys," they continue to walk, and kiyoomi doesn't miss the way she rolls her eyes like he does when he's stuck in traffic. and when she starts to plead, shaking his large hand in both of her own, kiyoomi decides that a trip to the toy store can make up for his refusal. he picks out a stuffed animal for her to fill the spot she desires so badly. that night, when she cuddles her new toy instead of him, kiyoomi considers extending his condition.

✫ KUROO's laugh fills the room at her question. ("dad, can i have a boyfriend?" she had asked him with her best puppy-dog eyes after she watched an ad for a new drama on TV).

"sure you can," he pulls her onto his lap as he relaxes on the couch before bed. "but may you? no." tetsuro smiles at his own response, proud of how he handled her silly little question.

"please?" she asks, clasping her hands together and giving him sadder, rounder, cuter puppy-dog eyes.

"oh, don't do that," he tries to avoid eye contact, but she ends up laughing that cute giggle that reminds him of her first smile (he heard it one night he was trying to help her sleep, cooing at her and tracing her cheek with his finger. oh, he loves that sound so much.) "what kind of boyfriend do you want? i'll try to look for one next time i go out," he jokes, patting down her messy hair.

she beams at his words, getting up on her feet with excitement. "i want mr. spark from my TV show!"

"isn't he the bad guy?" tetsuro raises his eyebrow and holds back a toothy smile.

"but he's nice to the girl," she thinks out-loud, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"baby, that's his boss. he has to be nice to her or he'll be unemployed."

"what does that mean?" she looks at her dad with wide eyes, as if he's telling her all the hidden secrets of her favorite show.

"if he doesn't listen to her, he won't get money to buy sweets," tetsuro whispers in her ear like he's passing along confidential information. she gasps — her hands cover her mouth and she thinks for a minute.

"then i need a boyfriend who is nice to me... and buys me sweets," she concludes. tetsuro pulls her in for a hug, and she doesn't fight back like she usually does with his bear hugs.

"you're a smart girl," he whispers into her head, hoping she'll let him buy her all the sweets in the world for just a little longer.

2K notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 2 months

Text

Beastmaster’s Bond I (NSFW) Ft Chaehyun

Author’s note: well I guess it's a series now. I suppose that's what I get.

After the doctor's appointment, Marshmallow and I made our way back to the Zoo, greeted by surprised expressions from our fellow employees upon our arrival.

"Dino, why are you here? You're supposed to be off," Zahir exclaimed with raised eyebrows as I strolled alongside Marshmallow.

"Well, Chaehyun needed my assistance with the logistics of relocating 'her Magnamallo' from its former spot to here. But fret not, I've already sorted it out with her. I'll be taking my two days off as planned," I reassured Zahir, who nodded and wandered off. Chaehyun looked at me with surprise as we continued doing rounds with the others.

Chaehyun regarded me with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "That was smooth," she remarked, her smile betraying her astonishment.

"Years of practice. I've learned how to navigate tricky situations," I replied nonchalantly, earning a grin from Marshmallow.

"I can't believe I underestimated you," Chaehyun admitted.

"Trust me, you're not alone in that," I replied calmly.

"I'm just shocked you didn't call me Marshmallow. I was expecting you to stumble because I don't think you ever learned my name," Chaehyun quipped.

"I knew it the whole time," I responded

" So why Marshmallow then," Chaehyun asked with surprise.

I face her squish both of her cheeks and she responds, "Okay fair, but don't you want a skinnier girl? I mean..." she starts but before she can any further with that line of thinking I interject

"Don't finish that thought. I like you the way you are. You're sexy as fuck and if I didn't like you the way you are I wouldn't have fucked the shit out of you twice," I respond

"That was crass..., but thank you," Chaehyun responded with a smile.

I shrugged as we strolled through the zoo. Fortunately, the chaos from yesterday had subsided. Deciding to be prudent, I decided to check in on all my "sons" while we were there: Dino (our Glavernus), Sparky (our Astalos), Raptor (our Valstrax), Alucard, Swampy (our Almudron), and Frozone (our Goss Harag). Frozone, known for his perpetual chill demeanor (pun intended), was always the last stop.

Entering Frozone's enclosure, I found him looking considerably calmer than the molten rage he had exhibited the day before. Chaehyun trailed behind me, her eyes widening at the sight.

"I think this is the biggest Goss Harag I've ever seen," she exclaimed with excitement.

Frozone, with his ever-languid gaze, tracked our movements as we approached.

"Hey, Dad," his expression seemed to convey.

"Hey, son. Feeling better?" I inquired.

"Yeah, just tired. I see you've brought someone new," Frozone observed.

"Oh yeah, this is Chaehyun," I introduced.

Chaehyun waved enthusiastically. "Hi, buddy," she greeted, eliciting a mirrored wave from Frozone before he resumed his lounging.

"He seems so lethargic. Is he okay?" Chaehyun asked, concern evident in her voice.

"He's perfectly fine. Goss Harags aren't naturally active creatures, especially in warmer climates. Their low activity levels help conserve energy, particularly in intense intense climates they often find themselves in. If we had another male or female, he might be more lively, but for now, he's just chilling," I explained, reassuring Chaehyun.

"Don't make me do laps again, Dad. Please, I've been watching my weight," Frozone interjected with a glare.

"No need for laps, son. People just aren't accustomed to seeing such a big Goss Harag," I reassured, chuckling as Frozone gave me a thumbs-up.

"Wait, can you communicate with them?" Chaehyun asked, astonished by Frozone's behavior.

"No, they can't speak. But after spending so much time with them, I've come to understand their behaviors and gestures, so it's more like a silent conversation," I clarified.

"That's incredible. I've never seen megafauna that was so... chatty," Chaehyun remarked, her fascination evident.

"Well, they all are. You just have to be willing to listen," I reply.

"You are a marvel you know that right," Chaehyun asks as we leave the enclosure,

"Really How so," I ask confused as we head to Tony's enclosure.

"You're attachment to them as like family almost is remarkable and the reciprocation between you and them is amazing," Chaehyun responded as I opened the door.

"Well, I don't treat them like objects which I see a lot of people do.", I reply, "I raised all of them since their birth, They are my sons, whether adopted or not," I add firmly. Chaehyun steps back and her eyes narrow.

"be careful using that tone," She chides.

I turn back to her and my eyes narrow, "and why is that?" I ask with an even more fiercer tone. Chaehyun looks at me with eyes full of lust and desire.

"Because I'll make you a father again she says." she tries to steady her breath. She closes in on me and puts my hand in her pants near her clothed pussy. "Feel how wet I am! You keep talking recklessly and I will make you put a baby in me," she states erotically. I fight tooth and claw not to pounce on her.

"You're insatiable," I reply teasingly.

"And you're such a tease," Chaewon growls, as she moves to corner me putting a hand under her shirt and forcing me to cup her left breast as we stare at each other. I smell her arousal and it spikes mine. Our eyes unfocus as we fall deeper into our mutual brewing lust, but I fight my more primal urges and turn back to the task at hand.

We walk into the enclosure and Tony is growling at Chaehyun.

"Why is she here? she reeks of wildfire," I see Tony "says"

"We are working on bringing you in a playmate," I respond.

"What kind of Playmate?" Tony "asks"

"it's a surprise," I say as Tony "glares"

"What's he saying?" Chaehyun asks,

"Oh he smells female Magnamalo on you," I explain, "So he's a little apprehensive," I respond. Chaehyun nodded and then said to me

"I can leave." to further iterate her point walked out of the enclosure. That left me with a text from her saying to measure Tony and measure the enclosure. Annoyed I called her

"What is it dear," she asked cheerily.

"dear, at least by me dinner first," I teased

"ha ha very funny caveman," Chaehyun responds.

" I do try, but um Chaehyun I know Tony's measurements by heart, along with the enclosures. I did have to build it after all so that's not all you wanted me to do right," I respond to Chaehyun

"You built the enclosure,"

"Yep and oversaw most of the other ones except for megafauna that was directly given to specific crew members, but even then I was consulted for help," I answer

"Why didn't Old McDonald..." Chahyun started

"E, I, E, I, O" I interject

Why didn't he give you the keys to the place as it seems you did everything," Chaehyun asked confused

"Well if I am being honest from my perspective. he wanted to turn this into a major research facility along with a zoo. I hate labs so he hired someone who could do the lab parts and push his dream further," I reply

"That's funny my father was the opposite. He wanted to be closer to the megafauna and was always trying to connect with them on a primal level." Chaehyun responded

"So we are a match made in heaven then for our mentor dreams I guess," I joke

"I guess so," Chaehyun responds laughing.

"So we good?" I ask.

"Yeah. Let's go," Chaehyun says with a smile. We left to go to the main office where Chaehyun had already set up shop. As soon as we sit down Chaehyun gets a call. her eyes go wide as she takes it then the call ends.

"I need to go back to Korea. They need me to help hatch and Elder Dragon," Chaehyun said she looked at me with conflicted feelings, "How fast can you get a passport?" she added.

"Probably not fast enough," I responded

"Shit," Chaehyun growled.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #kep1er smut #kep1er chaehyun #chaehyun smut #chaehyun

189 notes · View notes

bingwriterxo · 10 months

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked, “What happened? You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?! “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #museum tara #scream 5 #scream 6

643 notes · View notes

lionlena · 17 days

Text

Headcanon: If Teresa tried to get Marcus back after years... (MarcusPikexf!reader)

Teresa couldn't believe it. She just got off the train and saw him.

Marcus Pike, her ex-fiancé, stood at the same train station.

She hadn't seen him in almost eight years, but he didn't seem to have aged at all and somehow he looked even better. Teresa smiled broadly.

"Marcus! Oh my god! What a meeting!"

Marcus grimaced slightly, but she didn't seem to notice because she hugged him tenderly.

This made him feel awkward and he took a step back.

"Umm… Hi, Teresa."

"That's really amazing, how are you?" Before Marcus could open his mouth, she already started talking: "I divorced Jane three years ago, it turned out he was cheating on me. Now I'm alone."

Marcus took this information very indifferently and looked at his watch, then at Teresa, who was looking at him as if she was waiting for something. But since he didn't say anything, she took the initiative again.

"Maybe we should go for coffee?"

Marcus wanted to laugh. What was she counting on? That during those eight years, he did nothing but wait for her.

"Listen, Teresa, we probably won't go for coffee."

She looked at him surprised but didn't give up.

"Maybe we can just exchange phone numbers. We don't have to go for coffee." She winked at him. "We can go for a drink."

Marcus tried to be polite and forced a smile, but even Teresa could tell that it was a fake smile. She also noticed that he was constantly looking at his watch.

"Are you in a hurry to go somewhere?" She asked sweetly and blinked her eyes.

She was starting to feel a little frustrated that her charms weren't working on him like they used to.

Before he could answer, he finally saw you and a real big smile appeared on his face.

"Actually, I was waiting for someone." He glanced casually at Teresa, his eyes focused on you, on your beautiful, round pregnant belly, and on the little six-year-old boy running towards him and screaming, "Daddy!"

Marcus said a quick and curt "Sorry" to Teresa. But it was obvious that he wasn't the least bit sorry. He fell to one knee and spread his arms wide.

"Hey, buddy!"

The laughing toddler fell into his arms and wrapped his arms around his neck. Marcus felt a wave of happiness. He stood up holding his son in his arms.

"How was it with your grandparents?"

"I was riding on a pony"

"Wow! You have to tell me everything on the way home."

Teresa was still standing nearby, watching the scene with open eyes. Marcus simply radiated the energy of a perfect dad.

By this time, you had managed to join them. You walked much slower because of your big belly. Marcus immediately kissed you on the lips and used his free hand to tenderly caress your pregnant belly.

"How are my princesses?" He asked with concern.

He hadn't seen you for only three days, and even though he knew your parents would take good care of you, he was furious that he couldn't go with his family due to work.

"All right." You replied with a smile. "We're just hungry."

Marcus chuckled.

"So it's good to have a delicious dinner waiting at home."

"Did you make dinner?"

"Yes, dinner, laundry, and grocery shopping."

Your heart instantly melted and you caressed his cheek tenderly. He was truly the perfect husband.

Teresa grimaced and felt the bitter taste of jealousy in her mouth. This is what she lost. A perfect, caring husband. She finally cleared her throat and that was when you noticed her. You looked at Marcus questioningly. He gave Teresa a blank look and muttered:

"It was nice meeting you, now excuse me… Family duties call."

Before Teresa could get over her shock, he simply wrapped his arms around your waist and started leading you towards the parking lot where he left the car.

You turned back and noticed that the woman looked as if someone had poured stinking water on her.

"Who she was?" You asked out of curiosity.

Marcus shrugged.

"Nobody important."

You weren't going to ask more. You knew your husband and you didn't feel jealous. You knew his eyes were focused only on you.

Yes, I hate Teresa... And writing this made me wildly happy :D

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

Next part: Marcus tells you about his meeting with Teresa...

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike headcanon #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #teresa lisbon #Marcus deserves the world

153 notes · View notes

radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

Single mom reader x daughter (5 year old) and Spencer misses her dance recital and when he goes to make it up to her she calls him dad “daddy…I looked for you in the crowd” “why did you have to leave again”

One of the first things you learned about Spencer was how his job worked. It was something he was very clear about being on his list of cons when it came to dating. Honestly, it didn't phase you. Not when there were some men who lived in the same city that would spend less time with you than Spencer. He was dedicated, loyal, kind, funny, romantic, witty, and not at all put off by your daughter.

Maisie fell in love maybe faster than you did. He's so great with her. Always willing to read her stories and listen to her chatter.

At five, she's a little worse at understanding his schedule than you are. Sometimes he'll be at dinner three nights in a row, and other times, you won't see him for a week.

It's why she sobs into your shoulder on the way to your car after her dance recital. "I looked and he wasn't there." She complains.

You bounce her up and down, soothing her. "Baby, it's okay. We talked about how Spencer can't always be here with us, and momma was there."

She nods, letting you buckle her into the car seat. "I know, and he always comes back."

You tap her on the nose. "You're my smart little girl. Should we get ice cream on the way home?"

"Please, please, please!" She cheers, already forgetting about her disappointment. Oh, to have a five-year-old's brain.

She's happier with ice cream, but it might not have been the best time to pump her full of sugar, so you let her race up the stairs to burn off some energy.

She squeals when you round the corner to your apartment door, and you're immediately concerned, quickly speeding up to catch up with her to see what's wrong.

It's not a bad squeal, it's a Spencer's-here squeal.

He looks like shit if you were being honest, sunken features from not sleeping, but he's smiling, and he's got ice cream.

You greet him with a quick kiss after he's finished hugging Maisie before unlocking your apartment. She keeps looking between the snacks he brought and you, gaining the confidence to ask. "Can I have a second ice cream?"

It's already nine, so you shake your head. "You can have some for breakfast tomorrow if you're in bed in 10 minutes." You challenge her.

"Can Spencer read to me?" She asks hopefully, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You can't say no to them usually, and he definitely can't.

"Of course." He jumps in to say. "I missed it."

She beams at him for a second before she races off, leaving you with him, your perfect boyfriend. "Hi." You say, chest to chest with him as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"I've missed you, too." He tells you. "And this." You don't have a chance to ask what he means before his lips are firmly on yours.

"They'll be more of that to come after you've had a long sleep." You tell him, winking at him.

He grins happily, nodding. "I'm going to go read a very quick story then." He says.

You go with him after putting the ice cream in the freezer, kissing Maisie on the forehead and telling her you're proud of her and that you love her before leaving Spencer with her for a story.

"Can I ask something?" She asks him, pulling her covers up to her chin. It's after her bedtime story, and he half assumes she's doing it to stay up later.

He nods, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Anything you want, little one."

"Why do you always have to go working?" She asks with a pout. "I wanted you to come to my dance, and I looked for you in the crowd, daddy."

She doesn't even realize what she's just said, and she definitely doesn't understand the enormity of it for him. It's one title he hasn't had, until now. With the perfect child of his perfect girlfriend, life has never been better.

He's tearful at that one word, but he avoids showing it too much to her. "I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can get a special showing tomorrow?"

"Yes!" She agrees, like it's the best idea ever she's ever heard. Her little face lights up and it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

"I can't wait." He tells her. "But you've got to sleep so you'll have energy tomorrow." She nods in agreement and he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, princess."

Spencer's upset, almost sleeping already, and he tiptoes out of her room before heading to yours.

Something's wrong when he walks in. He's teary-eyed with a wide smile, looking like something big has just happened.

"What's up?" You ask curiously.

"She called me dad." He says, still in shock.

You open your mouth, mirroring his shock before smiling. "Spencer... thank you." You decide on saying. "You're the best thing to happen to her."

He shakes his head. "No, you're both the best things to happen to me."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

1K notes · View notes

curvykittyyssmutfics · 2 months

Text

Dad's Best Friend ft. Kishibe

dbf!Kishibe who's been your father's bff for over 25 years and loves you more than anything in the world: Coddles and shows you a gross amount of affection, like you're not a whole grown ass woman. Let's you plop in his lap evertime he comes over for a drink, ignoring your father's taunts bout your neediness. Dark eyes glued the tv, absentmindely rubbing circles on your back as you nuzzle into his neck. Ignorant to the sheer will it takes you not grind onto his soft cock. "Okay there, sweets? You keep squirming.. Won me ta hold you closer?" You nod, warmth spreading through your body when Kishibe tightens his embrace.

dbf!Kishibe isn't big on conversation but thinks it's adorable how you ramble on about any and everything to him: Just random shit. From your favorite celeb gossip to simple girl talk, you keep his attention for hours. Only his girl can get him caught up on the most recent trash reality tv shows that he never intends to watch. Unless you ask him to of course. Kishibe lends a honest ear, asks questions, and provides commentary when needed. "Baby, I can't be the only person you got to talk to right now. Its 2am. Know I have work early in the mornin." He groans from his end of the phone. "Yeah, but I haven't seen you inna few days. I miss youuu. Wanna hear your voice." Kishibe sighs. He knows that's only a half truth. Also knows he won't be gettin off the phone anytime soon. "That right? Think you just wanna tell me what happened on the next episode of.. What was it?" He teases. "It's called Baddies! See? You never listen!" Kishibe rolls his eyes. "Uh huh. That must be why you on my line right now. tsk. Go on and tell me what happened on ya lil show before I go to sleep on yo ass." "Okay, okay! Geez.."

dbf!Kishibe has always treated you like his princess, but you're older now, and very aware of his Queen treatment: All begins when he notices you real down for a few days. Doesnt wanna pry so he starts wakin you up to compliments and affirmations through text. Even as a man of few words, he thinks it's important you know how smart, kind and pretty you are. You're worth simply can't be measured to Kishibe, and he needs you to understand that. Doesn't care if your dad's around or who hears how special he thinks you are. "Fuckin aced my exam!" You exclaim one late afternoon, slidin through the kitchen after gettin back from uni. Kishibe and your father wait for you, posted at the breakfast bar. Kishibe arms squeeze tight inna hug while your dad opts for high five and small tickle to your side. "So fantastic, sweetheart! Knew you could do it. Always been too smart for your own good." Kishibe chuckles at your pout. "Know what? Let's go out. We gotta celebrate our girls milestone." But your dad scoffs. "Milestone? It's just a test, Kish. She takes em all time." "Dad, it's not just a test. I studied hard as hell for this one. It's a large chunk of my grade." Kishibe slings an arm round your shoulders, holdin up your exam papers before chiming in again. "Come on, old man. She passed with flying colors. Our girl could be a doctor or some shit. Never know. I say she deserves some special treatment." "Then you take her. Work drained all this old man's energy. I'm goin to sleep. Great job again, y/n. Proud of you." With a kiss to your forehead, he's off to bed. Kishibe doesn't let you wallow though. Pulls you in close to whisper in your ear. "Three's a crowd anyway, sweet thing. Go put on somethin black and tiny. Let's go do somethin fun tonight."

dbf!Kishibe only pretends to be oblivious to your little crush on him: He doesn't mind his gorgeous girl's longing stares or subtle flirting. Teases the fuck out you by purposefully acting clueless. Wants to see how far you'll go with your little infatuation. And it's a full time job. So Kishibe finds any reason to sleep over whenever he can. "Babygirl?" He calls for you naked and wet through the cracked bathroom door. "Bring me my towel, please. Left it on the bed." You comply, not realizing the treat you're in store for. Jaw dropping seeing his pretty dick for the first time. It's not hard but it's still so thick. A nice medium toned flesh colored shaft, mushroom tip dark pink and flaring wide. Its fuckin perfect. "H-here.. Here you go." "Thanks." Kishibe takes the towel, sexy grin appearin how your gaze never wavers from his cock. He's startin to stiffen- and drip more than water from your lusty stare . "Careful, honey. You're wakin the beast. Can't do that when your dad's around."

dbf!Kishibe loves to spoil you rotten: Takes you shoppin, gets your nails and hair done, puts gas in you car. Whatever you desire is at your finger tips. All you gotta do is flutter your lashes and pout your full lips and Kishibe is bending to your every will: "The fuck you need this for?" His words a nasty growl when you interrupt him workin on your dad's car to shove your phone into his face and show him a skimpy lavender lingerie set. "Thought you said pretty girls deserve pretty things." You whine, stomping your foot when Kishibe scoffs and bends under the hood to resume his task. "I'm not buyin that shit for you to show some lil fuck boy in your class, y/n." How dare he! You were absolutely repulsed by your first taste of fuck boy and only have eyes for him. "Not for anyone, Kishi. Just thought it would look good on me. Don't you?" He glances up, eyes raking over every inch of you. Fuck yeah, he does. Plus, Kishibe just can't take the soft vulnerable face you put on once he meets your gaze. Or the thought of that flimsy scrap of lace wrapped round your frame. "Fine, y/n." He takes his wallet out and tosses it to you. "You better get one in my favorite color- nah. Scratch that. Get one of each. And do same day shipping. I want a picture of it on you by tonight."

dbf!Kishibe does random pop ups when your left home alone for extended amounts of time: Knows your father works hard and promises to take good care of their little girl when he's away. Though this time, you don't expect him anytime soon since Kishibe texts he'll be comin by late tonight. When he finally does arrive, his idea of surprising you with your favorite dish doesn't quite go as planned. He let's himself in with the spare key and tip toes to your room but your not there. After a quick search, he finds you in the guest room and is stunned into silence. You're tangled in the sheets on your hands and knees, hardly covered in that damn pastel purple scrap of lace, slowly fuckin your puffy chocolate puss with a pink dildo. Clearly you hadn't washed the covers from Kishibe's overnight stay the way you inhale them, arch deepening and puttin your most delicate areas on display to his greedy gaze. The little show you put on has his girth raging stiff for you in record time. "Uhn! Oh, Kishibeee! Uhh, uhh, uhh! Stuff me till I can't take it. Need your fat cock to ruin me, Kishi!" His ears burn hot listening to you as he stares intently between your beautiful brown thighs, mouth watering for a taste. Swollen cock won't stop twitchin, precum already drippin in anticipation. "Yeees! Feed this pussy that dick, give it to me! So fuckin wet for you, know it'll slide right in." Your brows pinch, nose scrunching as you fuck yourself a bit quicker. Little puss drooling from the stretch, squelching loud from the swift pumps. "Wish you were here.. Ahh! Don't wanna -mmm- wait anymore. Want you to h-hold me down.. Fuck me like onahole, Daddy!" The fuck?! Kishibe groans quietly at your slutty pleas. Fuck, you're askin for it. His dick throbs widly from how feral you're behaving, even though the dildo's barely half way in. "Ohfuh- Kishibe!Fuckfuckfuck! 'S so big, splitting me in half! Fill me up just like that.. Haah, so close! Gonna cum so much, Kishi!" Kishibe's mouth drops open, grip on your dinner involuntarily loosening a bit as his groin pulses intensely. He's stuck frozen in place, totally entranced, ready to burst at the seams from the erotic visual. "Yeees.. Oh God, gonna wet up that big dick.. F-fuck me, Kishi! Fuck this pussy till I cum, make it yours Daddy! Ohmy- cummiiing! So good! Haahshit! Feels so fuckin goood!" Witnessing you gush all over your toy and sheets is his demise. Kishibe's gotta bite his bottom lip to muffle his grunts as he nuts. Pent up cock spurting cum like a fire hose as he watches you shiver, swearin and callin out to him while you fuck yourself into overstimulation.

dbf!Kishibe can't stop his dick from chubbin when your in his presence anymore, so he spends less time with you: It's always been a challenge to look and not touch but how can he do that when he hears your beautiful filthy fuckin sobs of his name ringin in his ears 24/7? The image of you cummin ingrained in his mind so fiercely, he's officially rubbed his dick raw. Thinks his hiatus will save you before he does somethin he can't take back. But then you show up on Kishibe's doorstep, hair inna messy bun, dressed in one of his old hoodies and the tiniest pair of jean shorts he's ever seen. Pretty y/e/c eyes rimmed red and teary as you yell at him for ghosting you. "..so what, replace me that fast? Can't answer my calls or texts? At least coulda responded to my fuckin email- I begged you to tell me what I did wrong! You're a fuckin piece of shit, Kishibe!" You tire yourself shoutin and bangin on his chiseled chest. End up right back in his lap, on his couch this time as he tries to console you. "I know sweetheart, I'ma fuckin jerk. Asshole like me don't deserve a perfect girl like you. Didn't do anything to me. How could you? Ain't nothin a sweet thing like you could do to push me away, you know that. Its.. It's all my fault." "Then why, Kish? Why'd you leave me? Told me.. Told me I'm you're favorite girl, that you'd always be here for me. So why can't you just tell me what's goin on? I don't get it.. Or at least my dad. He's your best friend." Kishibe sighs, shakin his head. "Yeah, I know that. But how in the hell do I tell my best bud that I watched our girl fuck her own brains out while screamin for me to use her like a onahole? Hmm? And that I actually almost did. Was two seconds from pushin your head into the sheets so I could breed that inexperienced lil pussy all night long." You tense on his muscled thigh for the briefest of moments. "Had to stay away, y/n. I went too far.." The fuck he did. Didn't go far enough. And how could you not realize he saw the lewd display? Even with pretendin to arrive a good while after, he couldn't take his gaze from you the entire evening. Finally.. At last it feels like your advances are gettin you somewhere. "And?" You stand up, lookin down on his fine ass. "And? Wha- ... Fuck you mean and?" Kishibe stares up at you incredulously, tongue swipin over his bottom lip when his eyes do a swift dart to your smooth mocha thighs.

"Did you really think we'd just endlessly flirt forever? Geez Kishi.. Don't make me have to spell it out for you. Supposed to be this big strong devil hunter." You pull off your hoodie, revealing your bare chest. Undoin your bun, messy 30 inch waves tumble down your shoulders and back. "Y/n, baby, wait. Let's talk bout this." "Looks like you wanna do more than talk, Kish." Fuck, your right. Kishibe's so fuckin hard. Even though that should be impossible after how much he's nutted to you these past 2 weeks. But your tits are so damn pretty and he really wants to play with the cute cherry piercings dangling from your stiff dark peaks. Still, Kishibe attempts one last play at 'the good guy' when you go to push down your shorts. "Don't." It's a weak protest. "Please, babygirl. Don't do this.. I'm only a man." Your bottoms hit the floor as you giggle, pussy clenchin at his dick visibly beatin against his slacks. "And I'm a woman, Kishibe. Your woman." He groans a low "Fuck yes." fists balling when you crowd him, settin your painted toes on the edge of the couch; the angle spreadin your glistening cocoa cunt for him. "You know.. Lately, you don't listen to me very well, Kishi. And we've both know I've always been very concise about my wants and needs." Two fingers creep to move in and out of your hot lil snatch, free hand fisting at his short blonde tips as you effortlessly fall into a slow deep rythym. "So I need- mmm.. Need you to listen like you used to.. You can do that for me, yeah?" Kishibe's dying to replace his digits with yours. Swallows hard watchin you scissor your fingers before strokin your coochie a bit quicker. The generous amount of slick provides a nice wet plap plap to fill the air. "But you hear me now, right Daddy?" Fuck it! He can't fight against it anymore. Lips dam near teleportin round your poundin clit, eyes closing in bliss as he nods and nurses your sensitive nub. "Kishibe!" His big hands grab your ass and hold you against his incessant mouth, dick ready to buss from your shrieks and the taste of your creamy cookie. Yeah, Kishibe hears you all alright.

159 notes · View notes

bubbly-parker · 10 months

Text

~Stiles x Reader Best Friends to Lovers~

warnings: Angst, family fights, bullying by family member(grandma), body insecurities, plus size reader, f reader, SMUT: face sitting, oral both m and f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (WRAP UP) 18+ NO MINORS I'll tell your Mom! Stiles and Y/N are 18 yo in this and in their last year of highschool.

summary: After another nasty comment about your body by your grandma you stormed out of the house, your best friend Stiles picked you up and decided that today would be the night he shows you how hot you really are.

probably like 5-6k words ? just guessing here

REQUESTED? : YES

spoiler : Stiles didn't think you could get any hotter, but when he looked up into your eyes from this position, taking you in in your blushing form, he swore you got even more beautiful

a/n: my insomnia is kicking my ass rn, I have an exam in 5 hours its 3 am and I can't sleep so enjoy, also if things don't make the most sense in some parts of the story it's because it is 3am- the ending was rushed i have no brain energy left to think of a real ending I'll revisit this story in the next few days and fix it if necessary enjoy and don't forget to please reblog if you liked it and leave a request right here

"So, Do you want to talk about it?" Stiles asked, looking over to you in his passenger seat.He could tell you were in a sour mood before he even picked you up.

You were rounding the street, leaving your house behind. You didn't want to answer at all; tears were already burning behind your eyes, threatening to spill. "No" was all you managed to choke out before your tears started freefalling. You hung your head low, watching your tears drop on your lap.

Stiles had no idea what was going on; just a few hours ago after school, he dropped you off at home, and you had a bright smile on your face knowing your family was over for a visit and you hadn't seen most of them since moving to Beacon Hill with your parents two years ago. In the last two years, Stiles and you have grown inseparable; he's the best friend you could have ever asked for, so when you texted him at 1 in the morning asking him to come to pick you up, he knew something was off. He could always tell.

It wasn't unusual for you two to go on late-night drives, but the way you had conveyed your message seemed off immediately: "You need to come pick me up right now." Stiles didn't hesitate; he threw on whatever clothes he could find and took an extra hoodie with him, sneaking past his dad and out into the cold night air. He tossed the extra hoodie onto Roscoe's back seat, knowing you probably didn't even put a jacket on. And he was right, driving towards your house. He saw your silhouette standing in your driveway, no jacket on, just your PJ shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he swore were missing from his closet. You walked towards the jeep, and when Stiles stopped, you entered without a word, put your seatbelt on, and all you said was a quiet "drive".

Stiles didn't know what to do; you didn't want to talk, but he couldn't stand watching you cry; it made his stomach churn and his chest feel tight in a sickening way. He needed you to be okay.

He reached his right hand over to you, taking your hand that was fidgeting with your shirt in his. You loved the way his fingers wrapped around your hand; it always made butterflies erupt in your stomach, even if he was just doing it to comfort you. You let out a choked sob that went straight to Stiles's heart breaking it a little. "I can't help you feel better if you don't talk to me," Stiles whispered, but the Jeep was so quiet that you understood him perfectly. You knew he was right, and you also knew that if anyone could make you feel better, it was Stiles.

Stiles already had a feeling about what was wrong but didn't want to say anything in case he was wrong. He knew you loved your family, but they could be harsh at times. You told him about a year ago how, especially, your grandma would often give you a hard time because of your weight. He found it ridiculous because a) it was none of your grandma's business what your body looked like, and b) he thought you looked amazing—the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. He loved holding you close and loved the way your body felt pressed against him. You've slept over at his place multiple times in the last two years, and holding you close as you slept is still his favorite pastime ever. Of course, he told you multiple times that you look amazing either way, but he understands how hard it is to feel comfortable in your own body, especially when your personal bully used to live with you.

Ever since moving away, your relationship with your family has gotten far better. Before, you used to live in one big house with your grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins constantly around you.

You wanted to tell Stiles what happened and wanted him to hold you and make it seem like everything was alright, but your grandma's voice kept nagging you: "You better start dropping a few Pounds if you ever want that boy to like you back." That was the first thing she dared say to you as you walked into the house earlier. She had been watching you through the kitchen window as Stiles dropped you off after school.

Anyone could tell how in love you were with Stiles by the way you smiled at him. You'd have to be an absolute idiot to miss it, like Stiles, as Lydia likes to point out; he was one of those absolute idiots, as he doesn't seem to notice your feelings for him. Your mother immediately interfered with your grandmother and told her to back off; they never got along, as she treated your mother with just as much kindness as she showed you, none.

You didn't feel hungry sitting with your family during dinner, and even though your mother had served your favorite lasagna, you could only stomach a little salad from the side dishes before you excused yourself and went back to your room. Part of you knew your grandma was right. Stiles would never like you back in the way that you like him; your name doesn't start with Lyd and end with ia, nor are you a fit strawberry blonde; no, you're about the exact opposite of what Stiles has always desired.

Shortly before you texted Stiles to come pick you up, your grandma had entered your room. You had honestly thought that she would be in bed by now, as you hadn't heard any noise from down the stairs in hours as you kept to yourself in your room. "You know, I am just looking out for you." Your grandmother had started her lecture, a lecture that you are all too familiar with; you've heard it about 250 times by now. She's just looking out for you; she just wants to motivate you to lose some weight; she doesn't want you to end up alone with no man. You never understood where your grandma took her audacity from, considering that she wasn't the skinniest woman herself.

"I saw the way you look at that boy; be real with yourself. Do you really think you'd have a chance with him right now?" Knowing your parents and your family, you couldn't exactly lash out at your grandma, so you did the next best thing you could do, which was only moderately disrespectful: you walked right past her out of your room, put your shoes on, and left the house. You stood in the driveway, and the only person that you wanted to see right now was Stiles. You knew he would pick you up at any time of the day, so you shot him a quick text and ducked yourself into the shadows under a tree in your driveway. You didn't want your grandma to see you, but you knew she was watching again.

Stiles couldn't bear your silence anymore, so he spoke again. This time it startled you, as his voice was more firm and he sounded quite angry. "Was it your grandma?" he asked. Your head shot up, and you looked over at him in disbelief, wondering how he knew. When your eyes met his, they softened; his angry stare was gone. Of course, Stiles knew he always did, didn't he? You weakly nodded your head before looking down at your hand again. You suddenly noticed how cold it was in Roscoe, and you shivered. Stile's hand let go of yours as he reached behind your seat to get his hoodie from the back seat. "Here, I had a feeling you would be freezing," he said as he handed you his hoodie. As you pulled his hoodie over your head, you inhaled Stile's scent deeply, hoping he didn't notice. There was something so intoxicating about Stiles that you didn't know if it was just him in general or if your feelings for him were playing a trick on your mind.

"You know everything your grandma has ever said is not true, right?" You have heard this from many people over the years, but only when Stiles said it did you feel put at ease for a little bit. You sat in comfortable silence, knowing Stiles took over the conversation when you were sad, so you could just listen. "Y/N, I mean it; there's nothing about you that could count as a flaw in the slightest, and I don't know how to make you believe that... Sometimes I just wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so you could realize." Stiles sighed in frustration. You know his frustration wasn't directed at you, but it still made you upset. "Thank you, Stiles," is all you could say.

You leaned your head back against your headrest and closed your eyes. Just now, you noticed that there was music quietly playing in the background. Stiles must have turned it on at some point. It was your playlist, with Until Forever Falls Apart by Ashe playing in the background. You closed your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of driving around.

You were startled when Stiles woke you up. You noticed the Jeep was parked in front of his house. Sometime during the drive, you must have fallen asleep. Stiles still sat across from you in the driver's seat, his hand on your cheek as he slowly stroked across it to wake you up. You felt a yawn make its way across your lips and stretched your legs. Stiles got out and rounded the Jeep, opening your door for you. He held it open as you jumped out. Stiles took your hand as he walked toward the door. You shuffled a little closer, putting your head on his arm. You noticed the sheriff's car was gone. "My dad was called back to the station about an hour ago." Stiles said he had noticed you staring at the empty spot where the sheriff's car usually stood. Once inside, you made your way to Stiles's room; according to his alarm clock, it was almost 2 a.m. Stiles must have been driving a bunch of circles around the city while you were asleep. You made a mental note to quickly steal Roscoe tomorrow and fill his tank for Stiles.

You took your shoes off and crawled into Stiles's bed. You heard him shuffle around behind you like he was searching for something, but you just wanted to lie down. A few seconds late, you felt Stiles get in bed behind you, his chest pressed to yours as his arms sneaked around your waist. At first, you hated when Stiles touched your stomach, but at first, you were also not used to cuddling with a boy in general. To anybody walking in, you two would seem like more than just friends, and the thought of that made your heart race. As you lay in silence, you once again noticed music playing in the background. Stiles must have looked for his speakers; your favorite playlist was quietly playing from the direction of his desk.

Stiles's hand sneaked under your, or well, his, hoodie, and he laid it right under your breast on top of your pajama shirt. Suddenly you noticed how hot it was getting under the hoodie and blanket, but you didn't dare move to take it off out of fear Stiles would move back.

Stiles shifted slightly behind you and buried his head in your neck. While you were absentmindedly intertwining your legs, you swore you could feel something poke you from behind. Your eyes widened. You have felt Stiles boner against you before a few times in the mornings and always just shrugged it off as morning wood. You felt Stiles move a little again when he whispered "I'm sorry" right in the nape of your neck. You didn't know how to react as goosebumps covered your skin and a shiver ran down your spine. You thought Stiles would move away from you, but instead, he pulled you in, making you gasp out when you felt his hard-on fully pressed against you.

Stile's head was still buried in your neck when you felt him slightly lift it and press a kiss right between your neck and shoulder. Another shiver wrecked your body as you turned your head slightly to look Stiles in the eyes; he had fully lifted his head, looking down on you.

Stiles didn't know where his sudden boost in confidence had come from, but ever since he saw your tear-filled eyes in the car, he wanted to confess his feelings to you and make you feel beautiful. Usually, when he got a boner around you, he would run off to the bathroom and take care of it, but right now, he wanted you to feel what you do to him.

He felt like he was about to explode with the way you were looking up at him—your big doe eyes, pupils blown wide, and lips gaping. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you.

You couldn't make out what you saw in Stiles's eyes right now; his dark eyes were almost black. "I really want to kiss you right now." Stiles's raspy voice said in a whisper that had your breath stuck. When you didn't respond, he moved his head a little closer to your ear. "Can I?" he asked again in a whisper. You could only nod your head. That's when Stiles removed his hand from under your hoodie to cup your face. When his lips finally met yours, you were sure time had stopped. You felt a new set of goosebumps rise on your skin as you kissed Stiles back eagerly, and you both smiled into the kiss when Stiles suddenly moved back. He pushed you back to lay flat on your back as he climbed in between your legs before kissing you again.

He couldn't believe that he was actually kissing you, mentally thanking every god out there for today. Stiles ground your crotches together, which ripped a loud moan from you. You turned your head away, embarrassed by what just happened. You felt Stiles heavy breathing. He took your face back in his hand and turned your head so you would look at him again. He looked heavenly; you can't believe what just happened.

"I've been wanting to do that for two years."

With these few words, Stiles had your whole world crumbling as tears slowly started falling from your eyes. You stared up at Stiles as he slowly started to panic, not knowing what he had done wrong. You couldn't stop the tears from falling. For the past two years, you thought that Stiles only saw you as a friend, when he might have wanted you just the way you wanted him. "Y/N, I'm so incredibly sorry. I didn't want to cross any boundaries. I- I m so stupid." Stiles started to sit back and move away from you when you reached for his arm to hold him still. You still had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't stop a smile from stretching across your face. "And I've been waiting for you to do that for the past two years, you idiot." Now, it was Stiles's turn to look absolutely shocked and dumbfounded at the same time. "HuuH?" was the only thing he managed to get past his lips. You laughed at him and leaned forward, reconnecting your lips. You felt like a heavy weight was lifted off your chest. A lump in your throat that you didn't know was there dissipated, and when Stiles started kissing you back, you finally wrapped your arm around his neck. Stiles deepened the kiss, asking for permission with his tongue, which you happily granted.

Stiles groaned into your mouth when he finally got to kiss you the way he wanted to for so long, and when you pushed your hips up to grind against him, he swore he lost his sanity. His hands traveled down your sides and under your hoodie, where they settled at your waist. "Can I take these off?" he referred to his Hoodie on you and your shirt. You hummed, opening your eyes and looking back at him. "I need verbal confirmation, y/n." He chuckled at you. " Yes, Stiles, please." He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling your shirt and hoodie above your head in one go. What Stiles didn't know was that you wore no Bra underneath. He tried not to stare at your naked body chest underneath him, so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable when he looked up at you. You had your head turned away again, slightly covering part of your chest with one hand. He took your hand in his own slowly moving, removing it from your chest. He leaned back down and started spreading small pecks along your neck and down to your collarbone, which had you whimpering and trusting back up against him. You felt him smile into your skin. His hand slowly traveled down your body, settling onto your hips and pushing them back down into the mattress. "Patience, baby, we will get there." Stiles moved his head back up and turned your face to look at him. You couldn't keep yourself from blushing at his words. You've never known that Stiles had such a side to him. Your hands tucked slightly at Stiles's shirt, signaling that you wanted it off; he sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt above his head. You've seen Stiles shirtless before, and every time it makes your skin heat up, you're sure you couldn't blush a deeper shade of red as you were staring at his perfect form. When you looked at his face, you noticed he was already looking at you. Watching as you stared at his body, you felt flustered under his dark eyes. Stiles's hands were back on your thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs that made your legs twitch.

"Do you want me to stop? We don't have to go further," Stiles asked. "Honestly, this was already way more than I ever expected to happen. You don't -"

You giggled as you noticed Stiles was starting to get into a nervous ramble. "Stiles, calm down, you're fine, I don't want to stop." For the first time tonight, it felt like you could talk freely with nothing holding you back. "Okay, good, good, but tell me if I need to stop. I will I prom-"

"Stiles! "

"Will you please shut up and get back here?" You reached your arms out to him, signaling to him that you wanted him back on top of you. Stiles smiled as he leaned back down, capturing your lips in another kiss. Both of you hadn't planned this, and neither one of you knew how to make the next move. You both knew you wanted more, and you knew that Stiles had slightly more experience than you and hoped he would make the next move.

And thankfully he did. Stiles slowly moved his hand that was still on your thigh a little higher, feeling your breath hitch as he cupped your heat through your pants, slowly rubbing his palm against you. You let a small moan escape your lips, which was swallowed by Stiles as he kept kissing you. He undid the tie of your (his) sweatpants and pushed his hand inside he moved his fingers down over your panties to feel how damp they were. "Stiles, please," you whimpered against his lips. Stiles swore he was so hard that he could come from just looking at you right now. He pulled his hand out, and you buckled your hips in protest. A small laugh passed his lips. He decided not to torture you any longer and started to pull your pants down. You lifted your hips for him to make it easier, and when they were finally off, he ran his hands up and down your thighs, feeling your soft skin.

You reached one of your hands between you to cup Stiles's erection through his own sweatpants. Feeling your hands on him for the first time made Stiles let out a loud groan that went straight to your own core.

You pushed Stiles slightly so he would lay on his back as you climbed between his legs. He stared at you as you settled on your stomach between his legs. He wet his lips and groaned when you palmed him harder. He lifted his hips off the bed and watched you pull his sweats and boxers down in one go. You wrapped your hands around him and looked up at him as you leaned forward to lick one long stripe along the underside of his dick up to his tip, where you collected his precum on your tongue. "Fuck, Y/N, don't do that." Stiles threw his head back; there was no way he could look at you if he wanted to last. You wrapped your lips around him and started bobbing your head up and down in a slow rhythm. Stiles groaned above you as his hands grabbed the sheets, and you saw his knuckles turn white.

You took his hand in yours and guided it to the back of your head to signal him that he could take control. Stiles took your hair in his hand and wrapped the other one around your scalp, holding you close. Suddenly, he started thrusting up while simultaneously pulling your head down, his cock going further down your throat with every thrust. You tried your best to breathe through your nose. Stiles moans fueled your desire to make him finish, so you hollowed your checks more and sucked harder. One of his hands left your head, and he draped it lazily over his eyes, thrusting his hips fast and keeping your head down. "I'm I'm close- fu- so close, Y/N." You felt a stutter in his rhythm, and after a few more thrusts, his hips lifted up one last time. He pushed your head down fully, your nose pressed against his pelvis as he came down your throat. You swallowed around him, the overstimulation making him pull out.

"Come here," Stiles pulled you towards him. You had to crawl on his lap because you were too short to reach him from your position. Stiles pulled you into another kiss and groaned when your wet panties rubbed against his half-erect dick.

Stiles's hands roamed over your body and settled on your ass; he pushed your hips down to grind harder against him as you were still mostly hovering over him, unsure whether you should put your whole weight on him.

When Stiles finally felt you let go and sink down on his lap he moved one of his hands from your ass and in between your bodies where he pulled your panties aside, he moved back a little so he could see you fully and ran one of his fingers up and down your slit collecting your wetness, you moaned at the feelings of stiles finger on you, he moved his finger up and slowly started drawing circles on your clit with his finger pad, you fell forward and put your hands against stiles chest as you let your moans slip freely from your mouth you started grinding against stiles hand as he finally inserted his finger into you, you needed more already soaking stiles hand you begged Stiles for more "More, please Stiles" he added another finger, spreading you open, the hand on your ass helping you move faster against his hand. The palm of his hand rubbed against your clit.

Stiles couldn't believe the sight above him, trying to implant your beauty into his brain forever as you threw your head back. "I'm gonna come- Stiles!" Your hips stuttered, but his hand on your ass helped you move through your orgasm. You collapsed on top of him. He slowly stroked your back, but Stiles wasn't done with you yet. He waited for your breathing to calm down before he spoke again. "I want to taste you." You felt another blush creep up on your cheeks. You weren't going to deny Stiles his wish and were going to move off him to lie down when he held you still. "Sit on my face," Stiles said as he pulled your hips upward. Your cheeks fired up as you started stuttering. "Whaat no, I can't, we can't," you tried to move off. "Baby, look at me. I know what you're thinking, and I promise you won't hurt me." Stiles insisted looking up at you. "N-no, what if I crush you?" you said quietly, not looking Stiles in the eyes. Stiles smiled at you, and his hands traveled up your thighs, gripping them tightly. "You won't, and even if you did, it sounds like a great way to go out." You frowned and slapped him across the chest, earning you a laugh from Stiles. "Y/n, I mean it; you won't hurt me if it makes you feel better. How about I tap your thighs like this if I need you to move up?" He asked while tapping two of his fingers against your thigh three times. He looked up at you, giving you the best puppy eyes he could muster. You knew you could never deny him when he looks like this, and with a sigh, you gave in "Ookay- but..."

"No more buts!" Stiles interrupted you. He lifted you up slightly as if you weighed nothing and helped you out of your panties before moving your body towards the headboard until you were hovering over his face. He caressed your inner thighs, spreading your legs further apart. Stiles didn't think you could get any hotter, but when he looked up into your eyes from this position, taking you in in your blushing form, he swore you got even more beautiful. Stiles's hands moved up to your hips, which he grabbed tightly before pressing you down onto him, finally having your cunt on his face. He liked a long stripe up from your hole to your clit, moaning at the taste, which sent vibration right through your clit and a shock up your spine.

Stiles ate you out like a man starving, pulling you even closer and fully burying his head into your cunt. He rocked your body against his face, his nose brushing against your clit as he pushed his tongue into you. You grabbed his hair with one hand and the headboard with the other, rocking your body back and forth against Stiles's face, letting moans of his name echo through his room, which only fueled Stiles on more. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, you ground down right into him. "Shit Stiles, s-sorry," you tried to lift yourself back up, but Stiles held you close, pressed up against his mouth. He opened his eyes and looked up at you, the eye contact sending shivers down your spine.

Stiles moaned against your clit making you throw your head back. One of his hands sneaked up your body and ghosted over your breast. Stiles has always wanted to touch them. When you put your hands over his to grab them harder, Stiles finally lost his last reserve and started rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Stiles, Stiles..." His name fell off your lips like a mantra as you came a second time that night, your legs clamping together around Stiles's head, trying to keep him there. He tried his best to lap up all your juices, and when the stimulation became too much, you lifted yourself up, much to Stiles's displeasure, as he would much rather have kept you there. You moved to the side, lying down next to Stiles.

You looked at him, his face glistening in your juice. "That was the best thing ever!" Stiles exclaimed with a smile on his face. You chuckled at his bright smile. He looked like a kid on Christmas. He leaned over to you, connecting your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips. You felt Stiles hard on press against your thigh. You moved your hand down his stomach and wrapped it around your shaft. You moved, so Stiles was in between your legs. "I want you inside me," you mumbled against Stiles's lips.

Stile's mind went haywire. He didn't expect to ever get so far with you, so he didn't have any condoms. You saw the worried look on his face as you watched his eyes scan the room. "I'm on birth control, Stiles," you reassured him as you ground your wet cunt against his hard cock. "Are you sure this is okay?" Stiles asked as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Yes, Stiles, I've never been more sure."

Stiles slowly pushed in, making sure not to hurt you. He knew you hadn't slept with anyone since losing your virginity over two years ago, so it stung a little when Stiles was fully inside you. He stayed still for a moment, just taking in your beautiful face and the feeling. "You're beautiful," Stiles said, smiling down at you. Stiles has called you beautiful before, but it had never made you feel the way it did now that you knew he felt the same way about you.

You moved your hips a little, signaling Stiles to move. "Stiles, move, ple-ase!" Stiles pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in. He immediately found the right spots that had you moaning under him, "fuck- fast- stiles faster!" You moaned in his ear. Stiles picked up the pace and felt your nails dig into his back. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder so he could reach even deeper. The new position made him hit your g-spot with every thrust and had you tightening incredibly around him. "Fuck Y/N, you're too tight." Stiles swore you were sent to earth just for him, as he filled you perfectly. He propped himself down on his elbow, pressing himself even closer to you. He reached one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You were still incredibly sensitive from earlier and came almost instantly while he continued rubbing your clit in slow circles to help you back down from your high. Your thighs were shivering. Stiles pulled out of you and turned you around; he gently pushed you on your stomach. You slightly lifted your ass up towards him as well as your shaking legs could support you. Stiles trusted back inside you, but with the first thrust of his hips, your legs already gave out. You were gripping the sheets between your fingers as Stiles held you against him, chasing his own orgasm. "Fuck y/n, I'm going cum," he said, his rhythm breaking. "In-inside... please stileees" you whined out for him. The thought of coming inside sent Stiles over the edge. He pressed his chest against your back as he slowly emptied himself inside you.

When he pulled out, you flopped back on the bed and said, "Don't move; wait here!" Stiles got off the bed and ran into the bathroom, you guessed. When he came back, he had a roll of toilet paper and a warm washcloth. He cleaned up between your legs the best he could before crawling back in bed with you. He pulled you flush against his chest, loving the way you curled into his side. You laid your head on your chest, listening to Stiles's heartbeat as he played with your hair. You heard Stiles say something but didn't register it, exhaustion finally catching up on you as you fell asleep.

At 6:30 a.m., just a few hours later, you were rudely awakened by Stiles's alarm. You debated for a second about just skipping class when Stiles and you heard his dad in the hallway. You both immediately sprang into action, getting your clothes back on, just as you had finished putting on your clothes and pulling your shirt down, the sheriff entered the room. He looked surprised, expecting to only find Stiles.

It's not like you have never slept over at Stiles place, but usually the sheriff knew. Judging by the way the sheriff looked at Stiles, he already knew what had happened between you two. "Just make sure you both make it to school in time, okay?" Was all he said, looking at Stiles, who nodded his head, hand scratching his neck. "We have to be quick; I need my stuff from home," you reminded Stiles after the sheriff left.

Stiles dropped you off at him with barely 10 minutes to spare, which definitely wasn't because you two took an extra long shower this morning. Your mother tried to approach you and question you about what happened and why you weren't at home, but you just brushed her off promising to fill her in later. You changed your clothes, grabbed your bag, and were back in Stiles's jeep in record time. You knew your grandma was watching again from the kitchen window, so you reached over and pulled Stiles into a kiss.

Stiles caressed your cheek and deepened the kiss. You didn't pull back until you couldn't breathe. Just as you were about to lean in again, you saw your dad leave the house out of the corner of your eye. "Drive!" You turned to Stiles, who didn't need to be told twice as you both made your way to school. You couldn't help but laugh at the face your dad made while standing alone in the driveway.

At school, you and Stiles walked in holding hands, looking for your friend group. The first one you spotted was Lydia, who gave you a knowing smirk. "It looks like you're no longer on the list of oblivious idiots, Stiles," she said, making Stiles look confused.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles x reader #fanfiction #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine

602 notes · View notes