#but I've always been a reblog kinda girl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 1 year

Text

♦️There Are No Words Left to Speak ♦️

Chapter 5 of That's What You Get

Prev Chap || Next Chap

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Fem Reader

Summary: In a panic, you spill your guts to Penelope and receive some much needed advice before your "date" with Reid.

Warnings: None!!

A/N: This one is 4k words long because I absolutely could not help myself 😭 I've has a lot of messages and asks about this series lately, and it's been really encouraging to see! If you like this chapter, please comment or reblog and let me know or come chat with me in my inbox! Happy Reading!!

You can find my masterlist here and the series masterlist here.

"Penelope, I fucked up and I need your advice," you screamed into the room as soon as the door slammed open, startling the other woman as she threw her phone up in surprise.

"Jesus, Y/N, you're lucky I didn't reach for the all too full can of pepper spray I store in here, oh my god."

"I'm sorry, Pen, I'm just, I'm kinda freaking out, and I need your help."

"Are we going to need wine, or are we going to need ice cream and a chick flick? What kind of problem are we talking here?" she asked from her place at the desk.

"I married Spencer in Vegas." You said and then clamped your hand over your mouth as you finally let the pressure of the weekends mess seep out of you now that you'd shared your secret.

"Oh my god, both, we'll do both. We need both, let's go, let's go now."

–X–

Penelope drove the two of you home, immediately moving into a mothering role as soon as the words left your mouth, and she could see your impending implosion. You were grateful that she didn’t ask you any further questions as you made your way back to her apartment, just turning on the radio to a channel playing 90s pop hits and simply letting you calm down through the fun music.

When you finally got through her door, she let you get comfortable and then immediately came back with all the things she promised.

“Okay, I know you’re more a rose girl, but all I have is this really nice white that Derek got me for my last birthday and half a bottle of tequila, and I think it’s better for the both of us if we don’t open the tequila. Also, I have chocolate, cookie dough ice cream, and tissues, and When Harry Met Sally on DVD, I'm ready to be plugged in and played as soon as you say the word.”

“Penelope, we do not tell you how brilliant you are as often as we should.”

“While that is true, I’m trying my best not to immediately cave and ask you to spill, so can we please sing my praises after you explain what you mean by saying you married Spencer.”

“God, Penelope, I don’t know what happened,” you let your head hang in your hands and she immediately moved to sit closer to you, rubbing a hand over your back and getting the tissues ready.

“We went out drinking, and my mom got in my head earlier in that call I took, and I don’t remember anything and then I woke up and we were in bed together and-” you rambled out, lifting your head up as you tried to explain, but she cut you off quickly there.

“You were in bed together? Did you… you know, bump uglies with Spencer? Do the old in n’ out? Sorry, I’m making this worse, I’ll shut up now,” she said, but you laughed at her enthusiasm, and you felt more of the weekend’s tension leave your body. You knew that you had made the right decision coming to Penelope with this. She always knew how to make you feel better.

“I don’t know, but it looks like it. TMI but-”

“Hold on, I don’t think I want to know what the Good Doctor is like in bed.” She visibly shuddered, and you let out another shaky laugh.

“Well considering I remember none of it, you’d be hard pressed to get those details from me. I did wake up handcuffed to the bed, though.”

“Shut the front door, no you did not!” Penelope’s jaw dropped. “Oh god, I’m almost morbidly curious, but I don’t want to open that can of worms. Sorry, please continue.”

You took a swig of the wine she poured you and relaxed a bit further into her couch, pulling your legs up under you to find a more comfortable position as you told the rest of your story to Penelope, gaining more confidence with each of her reactions to what you told her.

“So, now we just need to track down our two witnesses and get the marriage quietly annulled, and we can forget it ever happened.” You could hear the frown in your voice before you realised you were making that kind of expression, and from Penelope’s reaction, you could see that she’d noticed too.

“Oh.. oh, I know that look. You don’t want the annulment, do you?”

“Yes! I mean, no! Look, I really don’t know how to answer that right now, it’s just…” you trailed off, and Penelope silently filled your wine glass again, not saying anything and letting you come around at your own pace.

“Earlier today, after we told Rossi, and before I came running to you, he… he kissed my forehead, and he called me Mrs. Reid, and I really liked it. And I didn’t think about it before, but Reid is nice, and he is good, and he is obviously really smart, and, god he’d be a great dad, and he took care of me yesterday and today… Penelope, I think I have a crush on my husband.” You gasped out, feeling the weight of your revelation as it hit you straight in the gut.

“But we talked about it and we’re getting an annulment and now it’s like I fucked up before I really got the chance to let it go anywhere, and what if it’s a mistake? What if I made the world’s greatest fuck up and married a great man in Vegas and then threw it all away a week later?” you raked your hand through your hair quickly, trying to ignore the tears forming quickly in your eyes.

“Oh my god, sweetie, it’s going to be okay… You’re going to have to trust me when I tell you that it’s going to be okay…” she patted you on the back and you let the tears fall down a bit, quickly dabbing them away with the now balled up tissue in your hand.

“I don’t know if I can, Pen…” you tried to smile up at her, but you could feel your lips wobbling and you let your head hang again before you could let out a choked sob.

“No, nonononoonono, listen to me… Okay, promise you won’t hate me after I say this?” She said, squishing your cheeks between her hands as she made you look up into her eyes.

“I pwomise,” you sniffed out, voice muffled by her strong grip. She let you go then, content that she had your attention.

“I know for a fact that the boy is as infatuated with you as you are with him because… because I saw you two.” She stopped there to watch your reaction, but you froze, so she continued.

“You… you called me from wherever you guys were out in Vegas, mumbled some words over the phone and then sent me a picture of a brochure with an address on it, and then when I turned up it was a wedding chapel and you were getting married.” She winced out those last words, and you gasped at the confession.

“You were one of the witnesses! Penelope!” You pointed an accusatory finger at her, but it was half-hearted. You knew that you were stubborn enough while sober. You certainly wouldn’t have been persuaded out of something you obviously wanted while blackout drunk.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but you guys were just too cute! He was giving you all these small kisses on your forehead and on your cheeks, and you looked like innocent kids giddy and high on love, and I didn’t want to bring you back down to earth. You looked so happy, and I do not make it a habit to get in the way of my friends’ happiness.”

“Penelope, why didn’t you say anything?” You groan out, sounding a bit like a petulant teenager who has just discovered her mom threw out a shirt she hadn’t worn in years.

“I wanted to, but I was told not to…” she winced away. “And before you ask, I won’t tell you who else was there! Just know it was someone else who also loves both of you and would’ve pulled you two out of there. No questions asked if they thought you were making a stupid decision!”

You let the revelations sink in, one by one. Penelope was there. Reid couldn’t keep his lips off of you. The other witness thought you two were good together. It almost didn’t surprise you when you started giggling, finding humour in the situation at least.

“Oh my god, Penelope, I got married in Vegas to my coworker. And I think I’m in love with him now.” You were in a fit of giggles now, and Penelope hesitantly joined in at first.

“Yeah, I suppose it is funny when you put it that way.”

“God, what am I going to do? How am I going to face him from now on?” You pulled yourself together again and faced Penelope again, hoping that she would have actual answers for your very rhetorical question.

“Well, at least we have a couple of days off now. You don’t have to see him again until we go to work.”

“No, we have a date tomorrow,” you said matter-of-factly. “Appointment, really, he’s reading some books on alcohol induced memory loss tonight, and then I’m going over to his place to see if any of it can help us fill in the blanks.”

“Oh god, you’re going to talk books with Reid. That’s practically as romantic as it gets for him. No wonder he wifed you up.” You playfully kicked her leg, and she laughed again. “Okay, so no avoidance, okay. Maybe you could put the moves on him? Try to recreate that scene with the handcuffs. Who knows what might happen.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you then, and you did your best not to once again be overcome by a fit of giggles.

“Okay, enough of my romantic problems. I was promised When Harry Met Sally and that ice cream has probably melted, so let’s get to it.”

–X–

You braced yourself at the apartment door as you psyched yourself up to knock. As promised, you’d been greeted in the morning by a text from Spencer with his address and a proposed time to meet. He’d suggested 5pm, and you’d agreed, but here you were 20 minutes early, probably looking overdressed and over eager to spend time with your coworker/ husband/ soon to be former husband, maybe.

You’d left Penelope’s apartment that morning, having had an impromptu sleepover, happy that you’d at least confirmed your own feelings. You’d taken a taxi to collect your car, then spent the rest of your time at home overthinking and overpreparing.

You’d put on a dress and some make-up, and you were almost regretting the decision now you were on his doorstep, wondering what he’d think. You worked one of the toughest jobs in the world together, and you knew that he’d seen you completely black and blue after going blow for blow with unsubs in the past. Would he think this sudden effort was weird? You tried not to pace, knowing that your footsteps in the hall would alert him to your presence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to knock just yet.

You checked your phone again. 4:45. You couldn’t spend another fifteen minutes out here overthinking, so you finally just pushed ahead and knocked. Almost as if he had been waiting on the other side of the door this entire time, Reid answered immediately, not even letting you get a third rap in before he was there standing in front of you.

“Hi,” you said, standing there awkwardly with your hand still up, ready to knock again.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at you.

You felt his eyes trail down your body, taking in your appearance. The dress you’d chosen wasn’t particularly special, just a mid-length tiered dress with bow straps. The weather was getting chillier so you’d layered it over a plain turtleneck, enjoying the added bonus of not having to conceal down your neck to mask the love bites he’d lavished upon you only a few nights prior.

You looked at him as well, and you were pleasantly surprised by his casual wear. He was more dressed down than he was in the office, but not by much. He was still wearing slacks, and a button down shirt as well, but he’d thrown a beaten up CalTech sweater over the top of them, and he looked so cosy you wanted to bury your head in his chest. He was wearing his glasses, and you were so thankful for that, as you forgot how well they suited him, fitting him perfectly.

“You’re early.” He said, finally breaking the silence between the two of you, drawing you out of the trance he’d kept you in while you took in the sight of him.

“Yeah, I guess I just overestimated how long it was going to take to get here. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great, totally fine. Come in.” He moved his body to the side slightly so you could enter the door, but kept his outer arm pressed against the door so you had to duck under it, brushing past him as you went. The small contact made your entire body buzz, your heartrate picking up as you willed yourself to act natural.

“The food should be here any minute.” He smiled as he followed you back into his apartment. “I wanted it to arrive before you got here so I could surprise you.” You turned around to face him, and you could hear the bashfulness in his voice as he made the admission.

“Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you smiled up at him. “What did you order?”

“I remembered you mentioned that Korean streetfood place a while back that does those spicy rice cakes and kimbap rolls, so I got us some of that. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect.” You were touched that he even remembered the conversation when you yourself couldn’t even think of when it might have happened. He turned and walked further into the apartment, and you followed him this time, finally looking around and taking it all in.

The walls were obviously lined with bookshelves, and there were books laying around in piles everywhere. The walls were painted a dark colour, which made the space feel calming, almost more intimate, and sunlight was streaming in from the open window on the back wall.

“Sorry, it’s not much. Take a seat wherever, and I’ll grab those books I was talking about.”

You took a seat on the couch and watched him trail around the room, picking up books from several shelves and stacks.

“Okay, this is all of them. So the main takeaway is that it usually takes two weeks to fully recover memories from alcohol induced blackouts.” He explained, bringing you a stack at least eight books high.

“Spencer, did you read all of these last night?” You asked.

“Yeah, I said I would, I thought it would help.”

“Spencer,” you took his hand into yours as he set the books on the floor and flopped down to the couch beside you. “I really appreciate you putting in all this effort to help us, but you could’ve just come home and relaxed, you know. Our case was long and tough, and now all of this, you deserve a break.” You stroked your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to make the gesture calm and reassuring.

“I know, I wanted to do this. I want to remember what happened between us,” he whispered the words softly, not needing to fill the space with much sound as you’d crept closer and closer together since he’d returned.

“So, uh, two weeks then, is that it, we just have to wait for the memories to return?” you asked quietly, letting go of the small moment you’d shared to get back to the task at hand.

“It seemed so, but there are some other more general tips we could implement that could help us piece together what happened. We might at least be able to figure out who our witnesses were.”

You felt almost guilty then, but you kept your mouth shut. You’d decided the night before that you wouldn’t tell Reid about Penelope. At least not yet. You wanted the time first to see if he could possibly feel the same way about you before you worked up the courage to let him in on what you had learnt.

“Yeah, I’m open to try anything. Within reason, that is.”

“Great! I was thinking at first that maybe we could do a cognitive interview, but as we only have each other to work with, I thought that might make some of our answers more biased and not garner effective results. But we could still try to jog our memories by working out some of the same emotions, doing some things we could have done that night, and seeing if any of it rings a bell?”

“Some of the things we did that night?”

“Yeah,” he repled.

“Like… like make out or get handcuffed to a bed?” You enjoyed watching the flush creep up his neck, and his eyes go wide as he struggled to backtrack on that one.

“No, no! I mean, unless you want to, or you think it would help?” It was your turn to be left speechless, your mouth suddenly not complying with your brain as you begged yourself to respond somehow. All you could muster was a glance down at his lips that lingered a bit too long, your body slowly creeping forward.

He noticed and moved closer towards you as well, letting his hand grasp your waist as you got caught in his atmosphere.

“It’s worth a try, right? To regain our memories.” He supplied you with the words, letting you stay silent as your lips grew closer and closer together, seconds away from taking your breath away forever.

A loud rap at the door and a shout of “delivery” had the two of you suddenly bouncing away from each other, Reid scrambling to the door to collect the food, while you stood up awkwardly and tried to pretend there was something really interesting on his bookshelf that had caught your attention all of a sudden.

For the Nth time in so many days, you found yourself trying to convince your heart to beat a little quieter, and you managed to get yourself under control as he returned with the food.

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time…” he trailed off as you nodded, joining him back at the couch as he began unpacking the food.

“It’s totally fine, we should eat anyways, trust me when I say this stuff doesn’t taste even half as good cold.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t go quite to your eyes. You really wanted to kiss him, and you were really doing your best to control your disappointment, not wanting to show off how desperate for him you were.

“Well, you’re in luck, because you now get to witness one of my only flaws,” he said, fishing out two sets of chopsticks from the delivery bag. “I am absolutely terrible with chopsticks.”

You giggled at him and grabbed the pair he offered you, letting out a dramatic fake gasp. “And you only tell me after we get married? That’s it, I want a divorce,” you laugh, and the two of you settle down into a comfortable silence as you begin your meal.

–X–

Two hours later, and you’re still no closer to locking lips with the man than you were earlier. You’d had a nice time talking with him over the food, both of you sitting like kids on the floor as you ate over his coffee table. He’d told you about a Korean film festival he’d attended a few years back, one of many international film festivals he’d been to, and you sat and listened, in awe of the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something that excited him. You hoped that one day, he’d talk about you in that same way.

You helped him clean up and settled back onto the couch, where he’d mentioned having a copy of one of the films that had since been subtitled, and you ended up in another movie marathon.

The movie was good, but his presence next to you was even better. He’d stretched out his arms on the couch behind you, letting you snuggle up into his side as you pulled your legs up and under you, screwing yourself up in a comfortable little ball, burrowing into him for warmth. He was a fire beside you, and you wished you were bold enough to push further into him, to drag your hands across his skin and feel even more of him, continuing the exploration from earlier. But you weren’t, and, honestly, you were tired, so you let yourself sit peacefully beside him, touching but not much, as you were lulled to sleep by the sounds of the TV.

It was pitch black outside when you finally cracked your eyes open again, but he was still there next to you on the couch. The movie had been turned off, and so had the TV, and there was a blanket now wrapped around your legs, so he had obviously moved, but he had also come back to you. You shifted your head up to look at him and smiled. He’d picked up another book from who knows what shelf and was reading slowly so as not to wake you with the movements of his hand as he traced down the page. Your head had moved from his chest to his lap, and he held the book off to the side in one hand, his other resting protectively over your waist. He was so engrossed by his book that he hadn’t even realised you’d moved and that you were awake until you spoke to him.

“Spencer? What time is it?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

“It’s 11:30. You fell asleep during the movie and you looked like you could use the sleep.”

“Wow, what a way to tell a girl she doesn’t look so good,” you laughed at him as he pouted down at you.

“I didn’t mean that. Y/N, you look beautiful today. You look beautiful everyday.”

You lifted yourself up from his lap, one hand braced on either side of his legs on the couch as you bought yourself eye-to-eye with him, your chests close enough to touch if you took a big breath in. Instead, yours were shallow as you looked up at him through heavy eyes.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You whispered, silently begging him to close the space between the two of you. But he didn’t, instead, clearing his throat and putting his book down, breaking your eye contact.

“I should be getting home now. It’s pretty late.” You said, standing up from the couch. He followed you up and around as you started collecting your things and organising the space you’d occupied.

“Y/N it’s late, and you’re tired. I can’t let you drive home like that. An estimated 30% of road accidents occur due to sleep deficiency, you know.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want to get a taxi and just leave my car here and then have to come back in the morning. I’ll be fine driving,” you said, but he softly took the keys out of your hands as you grabbed them from your bag.

“Stay here tonight.” He said, less of a suggestion than an already established fact. You looked up at him and knew there was no changing his mind, but he continued anyway.

“I have a spare toothbrush and some old clothes you can probably use as pajamas, and it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before. Maybe…maybe waking up next to each other again will help jog our memories, too. We only have until the end of the week, right?”

He looked at you expectantly, and you let out a little sigh and nodded your head, letting him guide you away to the bedroom and back into sleeping in his arms.

--×--

🏷 @w-windy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil @shqwqrma @shits8gigs

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #that's what you get

945 notes · View notes

gor3-hound · 3 months

Text

GIVE ME LOVE // NAOYA ZENIN

ft. brother!naoya x sister!reader

a/n: art by @/sakurai_itachi on twitter/x !! another commission for my fave @nexysworld ♡ more naoya... i feel like i'm single handedly populating the naoya x reader tag atp 😭😭😭 as always, feedback and reblogs super appreciated !!

cw: 18+ content, brother/sister incest, breeding, misogyny, kinda dub-con but very barely, spit, kissing, p in v, creampie, biting, tinyyyy amount of blood, naoya has feelings that he doesn't know how to handle, cockwarming

word count: 1.9k words

Growing up in the Zen'in clan taught you one important lesson - women would always be seen as inferior to men. It did not matter how hard you worked to prove yourself to the Elders in the clan. You were a woman, and that was crime enough.

More than anyone, Naoya had every right to resent you. Your mere existence was an inconvenience to him, but more than that, your birth dishonoured him. He already had to fight harder than your brothers to climb to the top and become the head of the clan, but sharing a womb with a woman was unforgivable. He was constantly ridiculed for having a female twin, and in turn, you were treated as a stain on the Zen'in name for bringing shame to a Zen'in heir.

Despite everything, Naoya could not bring himself to hate you. You were nothing but a woman, a thing. But he could not see his own twin as such. You were close when the two of you were younger, but as the years went on, you grew more and more distant. Now, with both of you past the age of adulthood and his claim to the clan stronger than before, you've been completely avoiding him.

If anyone asked why he was so obsessed with your absence, he would lie and say that his ego would not allow a mere woman to disrespect him so heavily by thinking she could be the one to ignore him, but the truth of the matter was that he missed you. Dearly. The thought alone had him burning red with embarrassment. He was meant to be better than this, and yet he was letting his emotions get the better of him over a stupid girl.

He strolls to your room late at night when he's sure he won't be caught. He doesn't want to explain to any of the assholes in his clan that he was about to grovel to his sister because he missed her company. He'd never recover. In fact, Naoya would rather die on the spot than be caught being so soft around you.

Naoya takes a deep breath before he pushes open the door to your room, eyes falling on your form sitting at the edge of your bed, bent over a book. He runs a hand through his hair before rapping his knuckles against the open doorway to get your attention.

“Hey.” He murmurs, shifting awkwardly between his feet, clearing his throat when you look up at him. “I piss you off or something? No need to be a bitch about it. Can't do anything if you don't tell me.”

He inwardly cringes at his words. He doesn't know how to do this, but he was willing to apologise if he upset you. He shuts his eyes for a moment sighing before speaking up again. “You've been avoidin’ me. Don't let what the old bastard said at dinner the other night get to you. I know you're a woman, but you're still a Zen'in. No need to be so sensitive.”

“I haven't been avoiding you.” You say in response, brows knitting together. Both of you know it's a lie - you'd always been an awful liar. Naoya scoffs, raising a brow at you. “And it had nothing to do with father. I've gotten used to him over the course of over two decades being his daughter.”

“You are avoiding me.” He huffs, stepping into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. “Don't bullshit me. You're a fuckin’ awful liar.”

Your jaw tenses for a moment as you close your book, setting it on the bedside table. Your eyes flick up, meeting him as he sits at the head of your bed, leaning back against the pillows.

“Father has not bothered me.” You repeat, running a hand over your face. “But our eldest brother has spoken of marrying the girl he's seeing. You spend too much time with me. We aren't kids anymore. My presence isn't helping your reputation. If we were seen less together, you could have more luck producing and heir to solidify your claim to-”

He should hate you, really. You'd ruined his chances at the life he wanted - the life he deserved a chance at by birth. He wasn't used to this tightness in his chest. Why was he so upset by you acting as if you were the reason he was seen as lesser by the clan if it was the truth?

“Are you fuckin' kiddin’ me?” Naoya hisses, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “We both know my claim was practically non-existent the moment your gender was revealed at birth. Not spendin’ time together isn't gonna do shit.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes dropping to flicker over your body in a way that makes you tense. You can feel his gaze burning through you, a knot twisting your stomach. His expression darkens as he meets your eyes once more - he's made up his mind.

“You can fix this, y'know.” He murmurs, shifting closer to you in the bed. He chuckles as you back up, grin spreading across his face when you're pressed back against the headboard with nowhere to go. Naoya let's his head dip forward, nosing at the crook of your neck.

“So worried about my reputation. It isn't your place as a woman to worry about me.” He growls against your neck, continuing the trail of heated kisses along your skin, tongue darting out to taste you. He bites down before pulling back to meet your eyes. “If father needs an heir to legitimise me, we'll give him one.”

“Naoya, we can't. You're my brother-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, running his tongue along his teeth before he continues sucking marks along the length of your throat. “And? Our cousin did it, and he's on a vacation in Venice with his sister. As long as it's not a servant girl, our dear father doesn't give a shit.”

“You're nothing.” He hisses against your skin. To him, it isn't an insult. It's a mere fact. His breath is hot against the skin of your neck as he pulls back just enough to gaze at your body, hands moving to gently pull open your robes. “I can make you something. Give you some power in the clan. Just need you to go along with this, yeah?”

He kisses you to silence any protests that might bubble up, pushing the fabric away from your body as he works on undressing himself. He kisses you like he wants to possess you, teeth pulling at your lower lip, hands grasping your waist tight enough to bruise as soon as they're free. Naoya slips his tongue into your mouth with a groan, tasting you, claiming you.

You break the kiss when you feel his fingers hook themselves in the waistband of your panties, eyes shooting open. “Naoya, wait-”

“Shut up.” He hisses, but there's no real bite behind his words. He lines himself up with your entrance, chest rising and falling more rapidly than usual as he struggles to calm his breathing. “This is your duty. You ruined me. You can… you can fix this. You said you wished to help me solidify my claim, yeah? That's why you're avoidin’ me? This is how you can make up for all the years of ridicule I was subjected to.”

He presses forward slightly, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cock trying to break through the tight ring of muscle. You take a deep breath, waiting for movement that doesn't come. He's just staring at you - waiting for some kind of agreement, you realise. With a shaky breath, you push back against him, nails digging into his arms as he presses forward, slowly sinking into you until he's buried to the hilt.

Naoya knows you're a virgin - not only because you're his sister, and he knows you enough to know you wouldn't destroy your honour before marriage - but also because of how fucking tight you're squeezing around him. He's warring with his body, trying to bring himself to go slow, to ease you into it.

But he's selfish. Even when it comes to you. He can't stop himself. He fucks into you roughly, shushing you gently as you make soft, pained noises. He grunts words of praise under his breath - so tight, so good for me, doing so well. Anything he can think of to soothe you.

“Gonna stuff you so full… gonna have you dripping me for weeks.” He groans, bracing himself with his arms either side of your head, holding his weight up as he fucks into you harshly, each thrust making the bed frame creak. The sight of your lips parted makes him feel a little dizzy, the pleasured little gasps spilling from them making his cock twitch. Drool pools on his tongue as he leans over you, and he opens his mouth to let the spit trickle onto your own before he leans down to press his lips against yours. The movement of his hips grows sloppy as he licks into your mouth, tongue exploring you forcefully, like he's attempting to claim every inch of you.

He bites your lip when he pulls back, drawing blood. His gaze is hooded with lust as he fucks into you, tongue darting out to lick the blood clean off your lip. He grins as he straightens back up, his hands grasping your hips as he begins to fuck into you with slow, deep thrusts, grunting as your cunt clings to him every time he starts to pull back.

“Milkin’ me dry, huh? Clenchin’ around your own brother's cock, don't even want me to pull out…” He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, pulling you back against him. “Gonna cum… gonna fuckin’ cum, shit. Cum first, baby. Wanna feel that cunt grippin’ me before I fill you up.”

It doesn't take much more than that to have you seize up, body tensing as your release rushes over you in waves. He fucks you through it, drawing out your pleasure until he stills inside of you, choking out a moan as he shoots his load deep inside of you. He stays there for a moment, just taking in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His gaze flutters down to you, and he collapses on top of you with a sigh before flipping the both of you over so you're lying on top of him without pulling out. His arms snake around your waist, your head resting against him.

“Didn't take you for a cuddler.” You tease after a moment, practically going up.

“Shut up. Fuckin’ brat.” He huffs, a hand coming up to the back of your head to press your face into his neck. “S'not cuddlin’. I'm making sure it takes. Gotta keep you plugged, yeah?”

You both know that's not the whole truth, but you say nothing as you settle against him, shutting your eyes as you relax in his arms. You'd deal with whatever this leads to in the morning, but for now, you were content to fall asleep with your brother.

#naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #jjk naoya #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #dark content

356 notes · View notes

fanfictilltheend · 5 months

Text

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 1: ♪All I've ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

A/n: It's here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I've ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (no smut until part 2 but i swear it's worth the backstory!!!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: The story starts with Part 1 where afab!Y/N is a child and Joel is her new stepdad and this story explores their relationship. Themes of abusive family, domestic violence, child abuse, daddy issues, physical violence, murder, stepcest (kinda b/c he is divorced from her mom technically but she grew up with him as her stepdad), infidelity, age gap, and more are explored throughout the fic. PLEASE READ SPECIFIC TAGS (part 2 tags will be added with the release of part 2). Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier. NOTHING SEXUAL OCCURS BETWEEN Y/N and JOEL until Y/N is 20!!!!!!! Also check out this playlist of music that's in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, stepdad!joel, mechanic!joel, convict!joel, no apocalypse au, Mentions of sex (little detail), mentions of male masturbation, infidelity, domestic abuse/violence, sibling abuse/violence (no one ever talks about sibling abuse but it’s very real), physical child abuse, neglect, allusions to past domestic violence, cursing, brief mention of pedophilia and kidnapping (David), allusions to committing future pedophilia (David), threats, cancer mention, Sarah death discussion, Tommy death mention, murder, prison, mentions of god and religion, fights, general violence, alcohol consumption, using music lyrics to move the plot, daddy issues, use of y/n

Word Count: ~15k

PART 2 (coming soon)

Ao3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

Joel Miller is not a good man, that he knows like the backs of his calloused hands.

He knows loss too, feels it burrowed in the hollow cavity of his chest. Sees it in the face of every little girl he meets.

The memories sting.

He knows pain, deep in the depths of his character, down to the fundamentals of what makes him something that resembles a human being. The belts, the bigger hands, the harsh words, and then the grief. The recent Bring back my babygirl! The ancient ¡Basta, Papí, por favor, no Tommy, no Mamá! ¡Por favor no esta noche! The indignity of begging, always reduced to begging to a cruel man, an indifferent doctor, a cruel universe.

He knows hard work, how to work with his hands. He knows the grit and grease of labor. Sees the cogs turning in the engines he fixes, relates to them. Feels like he knows them intimately because he is one too, chugging along day after endless day. But no one dares fix Joel Miller.

Until…

Her name is Erica and she’d like her front bumper replaced, please. She has long eyelashes and a soothing voice. And she has money too, at least more than he, who is almost broke from the cost of Sarah’s medical bills. She comes with baggage, Joel can tell from looking into her eyes, but then again so does he. And he hasn’t been laid in god knows how long.

She takes him on a date and he lets her. She reveals she has two kids, but Joel doesn’t care. They fuck at her place while the kids are at school and she wants it soft, like her hands, and that’s how Joel gives it to her.

A week later, Joel has moved in, which is good because his rent was due and he couldn’t pay it. He still hasn’t met the children.

***

It’s Joel’s day off and he’s sitting on the couch in his new home. His back hurts, but that’s nothing new. He’s got an excellent view of their nice, big backyard with a wooden fence. The kind of home he would have liked to have given Sarah. He sighs. Technically, nothing is wrong.

Then he sees it. It takes him a second to realize what is going on. It’s a whirlwind. He sees the back gate open and two tumbling forms fall over the threshold onto the manicured grass. One form is bigger, a boy of about twelve or thirteen beating the shit out of a much smaller form, fists flying. The other form is a little girl, no more than eight, defending herself like her life depends on it. Perhaps it does with the way he’s going at her.

This must be the son, Aiden, and the daughter, Y/N.

He’s a good boy, really, but he has anger issues sometimes. He’s been through a lot. That’s what Erica said, but Joel does not see a good boy. He sees a bully. A disproportionately violent one at that. Nothing that tiny girl could have possibly done could warrant the brutality he sees before him.

Anger is something else Joel knows intimately, and that is what he greets when he runs outside to end the fray.

“Stop that!” he roars, pulling Aiden off of Y/N.

“Who the fuck are you!?” the boy screams, fury and hatred radiating off of his entire being.

He continues thrashing and punching at nothing as Joel restrains him.

“I’m gonna kill her!” he screams, his eyes bulging.

“What the hell happened?” Joel growls, still holding onto the livid boy–verging on young man.

“She ripped up my paper!” he bellows. “For no fucking reason! I worked hard on it!”

“It was a lie,” she says with so much conviction Joel almost flinches.

He looks down at the little girl, her nose bleeding, her right eye turning purple. She has tears streaked down her face, but she is not crying. Her shirt is ripped. The first thing he thinks of when he sees her is Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah, how could he not think of her? But this little girl is different, has a different look in her eye. This look is much harder and feels like she’s lived a thousand lifetimes. He thanks god Sarah never looked that way, but somehow he wants to hear about everything this little girl has experienced. Something twangs in Joel’s chest that he has not felt in what feels like an eternity.

“It was not a lie, you stupid bitch whore!” Aiden shouts angrily, still fighting back against Joel’s unrelenting grip. “Take that back!”

“No, you take it back! Dad is not a hero. You could’ve picked anyone to write about and you choose him? After everything he’s done?” she screams herself.

The sound of her voice is powerful but desperate. Joel feels himself needing to know more and bury himself deep inside her experiences.

“SHUT UP!” Aiden yells, finally ceasing his movements.

A tear falls from his cheek.

“If I let you go, will you stop whooping your sister?” Joel snaps firmly.

“Get away from me, you stupid cuck!” Aiden curses, turning his energy to Joel. “Who the hell are you to me? Fuck you! I’m out of here!”

He wriggles out of Joel’s grasp and Joel lets him go and Aiden storms back out the rear gate, slamming it behind him.

“You alright?” he asks Y/N.

Joel crawls over on his knees, still upright, closer to her.

“Had worse,” she shrugs, running a hand through her messed-up hair.

She wipes the tears and blood from her cheeks.

Joel shudders to imagine what she means.

“He always like that?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “So you Mom’s new boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” he nods back. ”’M Joel. Joel Miller.”

“I’m Y/N,” she says a bit mournfully. “Here,” she continues suddenly, reaching out a small hand to his cheek. She wipes blood (hers) gently off his stubbly face. “Didn’t mean to get ya dirty.”

Joel is nothing short of touched. He wasn’t even aware he could still have such a feeling. His cheeks go rosy pink. His heart pulses. He stares at her delicate hands and notices a long, thin scar on her left middle finger.

“‘S no trouble, sweetheart,” he hears himself reassuring her. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Could even mend your shirt if ya want. Know how to sew and all.”

He reaches out a large hand, but she flinches at the sudden movement. A dull ache wells up in Joel’s chest.

“Not gonna hurt you, honey. Swear it.”

He wants with every fiber of his being for her to believe him, for it to be true.

She takes his hand.

***

That evening Erica is still not home, working late Joel supposes. It is nine o’clock when Aiden slinks back into the house.

Joel stops him from making his way up the stairs. He is more than familiar with the art of creeping.

“Think you oughta apologize to your sister,” he says as gently as possible. Maybe he can impart some manners onto this unruly child now that he’s calmed down some. “You beat her real bad. You’re much bigger than her.”

“I’d do it again,” Aiden hisses, his eyes cold. “It makes me feel better.”

And then, to Joel, the answer is simple. What do you do with a bully who won’t repent? Fight him back. Show him who’s boss, who’s bigger.

He grabs Aiden by the arm in a flash of anger and drags him up the stairs. The boy screams and flails, but that doesn’t deter Joel. He brings him to the room he assumes is his, the walls covered in sports posters and memorabilia.

“Take off your shirt,” he growls, a familiar fury pounding inside his chest.

When Aiden protests, Joel does it for him, ripping the kid’s shirt nearly in half. Rage floods through Joel’s veins and he can’t exactly place why, but the feeling is very real and bouldering through him at an alarming speed. He knows this feeling, feels strangely at home there.

He undoes his belt and brings the leather end down on Aiden’s back, not the buckle like his father used to do. Joel does have some decency buried deep in his chest. And then he loses himself to the unyielding anger.

“You get ten,” he snarls. “Don’t you lay a hand on your sister again. Is that understood? Now you answer to me.”

No response except for a scream.

“I said , do you understand?” Joel roars, bringing down the belt.

Rage consumes him like a drug. He barely registers what he’s doing. The belt goes down again and again. And somehow, through the screaming and the pain, and the intoxicating feeling of being completely in control for once, Joel’s line of vision wanders to the bedroom door. In all the excitement, it was left ajar and out in the hallway, sitting on her knees is Y/N. Joel immediately expects fear, despair, revulsion. When Tommy would watch him take a beating his face would betray the most acute sense of hopelessness and terror and the waterworks would begin. But Y/N just stares at him unflinchingly, at what he’s doing. She doesn’t cry, she simply sees. Too much for a child, and yet, she watches. She does not intervene, doesn’t even try to. And for the tiniest moment, her and Joel’s eyes connect, and he feels a sense of calm, of comprehension, of recognition in that uncannily knowing gaze. Her irises sparkle and Joel feels…something that he cannot entirely articulate. Seen? Accepted? Understood? Joel knows logically what he is doing is an ugly, vile thing — he has never claimed to be a good man. Practical maybe, but never good. And yet, Y/N sees it — sees him — and she doesn’t look away. She cocks her head slightly, and images of Tommy grimacing in revulsion and fear as Joel mercilessly beat up their childhood neighborhood bullies to the point of unconsciousness pop into his mind, of the haunting look in his brother’s eyes. Even Sarah could not stomach his violent heart when she witnessed him beat up some pervert with a camera that had looked at her funny at the mall. Even though it was for her — to keep her safe. She had stared at him in disgust and pity. She had not seen him then at all.

But now, looking at Y/N, for the briefest moment, Joel can swear he sees something resembling a smile flicker over her serious face. And though it goes as quickly as it comes, he feels the familiar sensation gnawing at the bottom of his stomach: primal and untameable, soft and vulnerable, but fierce and loud at the same time. He feels an inexorable, inescapable sense of care and devotion to this child. But most of all, because she sees him, truly sees him, and does not turn away in disgust, Joel Miller feels the gut-wrenching, unquenchable sensation of love deep in his chest. For the first time since Sarah died on that hospital bed, weak and unwell from the chemo he could not afford, he feels alive .

***

Things fall into a tentative routine. Every morning, Joel wakes up in bed beside Erica. They fuck the night before more often than not, but always in that same slow way that doesn’t do much for Joel. It’s enough to get off, sure, she isn’t an unattractive woman, but he’s mostly there for the meal ticket and roof over his head. He goes to work at the auto-body repair shop, Erica goes to her job at her law firm. The kids ride the bus to school. He gets home in the evenings before Erica and spends time coexisting with the children. Usually, he kicks back on the sofa, rubbing his sore back, and watches television, minding his own business. Aiden mostly avoids him, doing god knows what in his room. He bullies his sister cruelly and Joel punishes him when he sees fit. Erica knows what he does to Aiden and either doesn’t care or approves. He never lays a hand on Y/N though. She warms up to him slowly, cautiously. Most evenings she sits on the far end of the couch and Joel on the other, but as she gets used to him and sees that he’s not a threat, at least to her, she scoots closer.

The children’s father is no longer in their lives from what Joel can tell, which is perfectly fine with him. When Joel’s heart does not feel full of lead, he plays the guitar. Y/N sits and watches him. She is a quiet child, but unrelentingly brave. When Joel lets the TV blare, he rarely cares to pay much attention these days, she stays and watches with him, no matter what is on and never complains or asks to change the channel. Blockbuster zombie apocalypse movie? She watches. News special on America’s most dangerous serial killers? She watches. Documentary on venomous snakes? She watches. Should Joel be letting her watch this crap? Who the fuck knows? He isn’t her father. And plus, he won’t admit this to anyone, hardly even himself, but he likes having some company. It makes everything feel…less. And he likes that she doesn’t try to make him speak. Sometimes there are no words and he thinks Y/N understands this. Unlike Erica who yaps every second of the day. But Joel stays polite and plays along. He has to.

But he will not lie, Aiden gets on his very last nerve. There is something that Joel cannot quite place that makes him feel like he has known this boy his whole life even though they are as familiar as perfect strangers. All siblings fight and rough-house. That is normal. Hell, he and Tommy used to fight rough and tumble all the time. But the way Aiden bullies Y/N is something else entirely. And most times, it is unprovoked. And he is so much bigger than she is, growing bigger by the day.

Joel’s beatings have not stopped Aiden’s anger and sadistic attitudes, but they do make sure that he takes some kind of physical consequence for his crimes. It makes Joel feel better and he thinks it makes Y/N feel better too. And some days he gets so fucking mad at Aiden that he thinks not even god could stop his wrath even if the boy turned into Mother Theresa herself! Okay, maybe that’s extreme, but another part of Joel thinks maybe it’s not. The truth is, though he is loathe to admit it, some days, he is not in control of his anger. Some days he punches so hard, his knuckles bleed and he has to stop for a second to come back to himself. Others he goes so roughly on Aiden that he causes the kid to become bloody and he feels ashamed of what he’s done. But there are other days, very dark days, where he wishes he could do it over and over again. He convinces himself he’s doing it for Y/N and not some other sinister ulterior motive he does not care to dwell on…

One night, a few months into Joel’s new living arrangements, he walks through the upstairs hallway to his and Erica’s bedroom, passing the closed door to the bathroom that the kids share. He has done this what feels like a thousand times before and doesn’t think anything of it until he stops and realizes he hears Y/N singing.

♪“ Someday, my pain / Someday, my pain will mark / You…”♫ she sings softly.

He can barely hear it over the crash of the water from her shower, but her voice is beautiful. It pulls at Joel’s shrunken heart, deep inside his long-dead chest. Her voice has an eerie quality to it too, almost haunting. He’s not sure of what song it is, but he finds himself wanting to know. Eventually, she stops, and Joel goes to bed, but her voice echoes in his mind for hours as he lies awake in the dark.

The next day, Joel is sitting on the couch when the kids get home from school. Y/N joins him on the other side of the sofa as usual. They watch reruns of some unfunny family sitcom.

“Heard you singing last night,” he finally grunts unceremoniously.

Y/N goes very still.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be quieter next time.”

Joel looks over at her. He realizes she looks terrified.

“Ain’t no problem with it,” he tries to explain, confused. “Thought you sounded nice is all.”

“You tryna trick me?” she stammers, tears collecting in her shimmering eyes.

“What? Trick you? What you crying for, honey? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel is genuinely flabbergasted.

Tears trickle down her cheeks. What has he done this time? he wonders. But he is concerned more than anything. Hell, he hasn’t seen her cry like this since the day they met. Not even last week when Aiden slammed her head into the metal oven in the kitchen (luckily it was off or Joel would have really killed him that time).

She sniffles, looking conflicted, then collects herself as best she can manage.

“M-my dad didn’t like when I would sing. ‘Specially if he was in a depo…I forget the word…deponition? Deposition? When he was on the phone for work, I mean. If I was being too loud. Or too shrill. He didn’t like that one bit. He’d get mad…” she trails off.

“The way Aiden gets mad?” Joel asks very slowly, not truly wanting to know the answer.

“Yeah,” she nods after a while. “Except he’s a lot bigger. And stronger. He…he broke my arm once. But it was on accident I think. He got me ice cream after.”

Anger, red and hot, pulses through Joel’s veins. What hadn’t this child endured at the hands of angry men?

“What did your mother do?” he bites out, almost unnaturally calm from trying to control himself.

“Well, most of the time he’d kinda like hit her around, I guess? But the time he broke my arm was the time she made him leave for good and they got a divorce and all. Aiden says it’s my fault he won’t come around anymore. He was so mad. He loves Dad so much. I don’t understand it though because even though Dad likes him a lot more than me, Dad would still be so mean to him sometimes. Mom says I don’t even know all of it...Promise I won’t bother you with singing though, okay?”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says as softly as his blinding rage will permit. Somehow, when he’s with Y/N, he finds he can control himself better. “I’ll never get mad at you for singing. Or being too loud. Or anything. Never gonna put my hands on you. I’m sorry if what I do to Aiden scares you or made you think that I would ever do such a thing to you.”

“It doesn’t scare me,” she shakes her head. “When you get rough with Aiden, you do it because he did really bad, to protect me. It’s like with you there’s rules that make sense. Aiden chooses to be mean and violent so you choose it back to him. With my dad, it was different. It was like I could breathe wrong and I’d get in trouble. Get in trouble for things I couldn’t control or help. Sometimes I did bad, I know I did, but I also know there were other times where I wasn’t hurting anyone and he’d still hurt me so badly. My dad never got mad at Aiden for hurting me though. He thought it was funny, I think. Sometimes he’d kinda like sick him on me. Kinda how you could a dog.”

Joel doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know the right words. He figures he can only show her with his actions who he is and she will just have to learn to trust him. If her father ever enters the house though, he will wring his neck. That’s for certain. Thank God he doesn’t come around for his sake, Joel’s, and the family’s.

“I was just thinking,” Joel finally says. “If ya want, I could learn how to play that song you were singing on my guitar and maybe you could sing it for me sometime?”

“M-maybe we could sing it together?” Y/N asks tentatively, her eyes wide. “Singing in front of other people is kinda scary.”

“I haven’t sung in a while,” Joel sighs. “Might be rusty.”

“That’s okay,” she grins hopefully.

Joel wants to take a photo of that rare sight and keep it close for as long as he lives, torn in his pocket or snug in his wallet, he doesn’t care.

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold.

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter . Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now.

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life?

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry.

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists.

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back…

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down.

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs .

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist.

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t.

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

***

A few months roll by. Things are virtually the same except Y/N seems more comfortable around him now. Maybe it’s because she saw his weakness up close and personal, his Achilles heel —— knows how to coax it out of him now if she has to. Or maybe it’s because she truly trusts him. Whatever the case, she sits closer to him on the couch now, still giving him a respectful foot of distance though of course.

Once in a blue moon, she sings for him and he tries to keep up with the lilting sound of her high voice. She says she likes his low, deep voice just fine, it’s just she still gets nervous singing in front of other people so it’s still a rare occasion. His favorite is when she sings solo and he gets to strum along for her and really listen. Sometimes her voice cracks in a very specific way that some might find to be a flaw, but Joel would never.

Aiden makes fun of them and calls them the ‘Von Trapp Family Singers.’ Are they a family? Joel wonders.

One day after work, Joel goes to the library to find some sheet music for a song Y/N likes. She treasures the photo-copied paper like a gift as Joel deciphers the notes he can actually read for her. She color-codes each one carefully in magic marker so she can remember the differences between them.

The next day, Aiden burns it up with a lighter he has acquired from God knows where. Joel confiscates it – the last thing he needs is this particular child setting fires – and It doesn’t end well for Aiden. He limps for damn near a week. But some days, when Aiden is calm, he joins Y/N and Joel in front of the TV if a sports game is on. He doesn’t sit on the couch though, just the floor. He doesn’t say much to them but does get invested in the good and bad plays of each game, gets sore if his team is losing. On one particularly good day, when the Rangers hit a grand slam, and Joel was actually paying attention, he and Aiden actually high-five.

Things are going…well? Is that the right word? It is a foreign concept for Joel. For Christmas, he gets Y/N guitar, Aiden a book on boxing so maybe he will redirect his anger into somewhere productive, and Erica a spa-day kit for 20% off that he saw at CVS (he never claimed to know what women want). Aiden is neutral, surprised, he thinks, that Joel even got him a present. Erica is actually appreciative and returns the favor with some new socks and underwear.

“A practical gift for a practical man,” she says, kissing him on the forehead.

Joel supposes he appreciates the gesture.

Y/N, though, is thrilled.

“Thank you, Joel! Got you something too,” she says excitedly, bouncing up and down in her red and white pajamas.

“That’s not necessary,” Joel chides, leaning over to pick up the wrapping paper that was strewn across the living room floor.

But secretly he is curious. He didn’t think she even had any money of her own…

Aiden opens the cover of the boxing book with disinterest, eyeing the new guitar distastefully.

Y/N jumps up, leaves the room, and returns with a small plastic baggie in her hands. Inside are little, different bits of colored plastic clumsily and haphazardly cut into tiny, sharp-looking, badge-shaped pieces. One he recognizes is from the top of a yogurt container he put into the recycling the other day, another one from the top of a Gatorade bottle.

“Here ya go!”

She shoves the plastic bag into his large hands enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” Joel responds, still unsure what he was given.

It reminds him of when Sarah was young and would come home with some sort of abstract macaroni painting from kindergarten and he would nod and smile knowingly when she explained that of course it was Two dinosaurs getting married, Dad. Duh!

“You could try one on my new guitar,” she offers, a little disappointed when he doesn’t have more of a reaction. “You said you lost most of yours…”

Joel immediately feels guilty and then it clicks. She tried to make him guitar picks! His heart clenches with emotion he can not quite identify.

He pulls a little orange one out of the bag and accidentally nicks the edge of his finger. Because of the way it was cut, no doubt with uncoordinated child’s hands and a pair of scissors, the edges are much too sharp to serve as an actual guitar pick without damaging guitar strings or apparently Joel’s finger. Dumb kid. But he’s beyond honored anyone would take the time to do such a thoughtful thing for him.

He hisses softly and sucks the blood off his finger.

“Oops,” she says, horrified. “Shoot. Sorry, I–”

“‘S no trouble,” he interjects dismissively. “Love ‘em. Was my fault anyway. I’mma be honest with you though, sweetheart; don’t think the guitar strings can handle these babies.”

“Oh,” she says softly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Oh, yeah, okay...”

She deflates, looking down at the carpet.

Joel selfishly lets her be sad for a beat before swooping back in to be the one to save the day.

“But here’s what I’ll do…”

She looks back up at him with an intoxicating kind of hope in her eyes.

He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and slips the orange pick into the photo slot next to the picture of Sarah. He returns the wallet back into his pants.

Y/N positively beams. Brighter than the sun, even, Joel thinks.

Aiden yawns purposefully loudly and rolls his eyes. Erica looks touched and maybe even a little proud of her choice in men. But Joel didn’t do it for them. The only reaction in the world he cares about is hers.

Y/N is still grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet again. But then she does something new: she leans in and hugs him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, burying her face in his flannel shirt, pressing against his tummy.

The world stops for Joel.

At first, he just hangs there limply, awkwardly. Literally forgets what one is supposed to do in such a situation, but then instinct kicks in and he wraps his arms around her too and squeezes ever so slightly. It’s a more cautious hug than Sarah would have given him – she would have squeezed him half to death – but Y/N is still holding him. Someone small and warm is holding onto him for the first time in what feels like an eternity. And just like that his past is rhyming with his present and it is the most beautiful sound Joel Miller has ever heard.

Joel Miller is not a good man, no, but maybe, just maybe, he thinks he could be one for Y/N.

***

Joel tries to be good. He does. His first order of business is stop beating on Aiden – especially in front of Y/N. No amount of violence towards the kid seems to do any good anyway – he still hurts her. And Joel is sick of bandaging her up and wiping the blood from her cheeks; something has to change. Not that he wouldn’t do it a thousand times if he had to. He’d do anything for the girl, that he is sure of. And the truth is, Aiden is close to getting big enough to really fight back. And Joel knows if Aiden really lays a hand on him, he’s not sure he will be able to control himself enough to not inflict permanent damage. And he doesn’t want that. Truly.

So at first, Joel thinks about having Erica send him away to a wilderness camp for troubled children or some such program he sees mentioned on reruns of Dr. Phil. She has the money to do it too. But she won’t send him away. She refuses, loves him too much. Protecting Y/N seems as far down on her list of priorities as ever. She is useless at disciplining him, always has been, so it is up to Joel to find another solution. So the next thing he tries is to set the boy up in boxing classes. This is risky since it might just teach him new ways to hurt Y/N, but at least it will be a place to direct his anger.

It works for a while, to his and Y/N’s immense relief, but that leaves Joel nowhere to take out his anger. He tries to ignore it at first and shove it down, but it starts to come out in little ways. At work, he barks at a customer who locks his keys in the car he’s trying to fix. At home, he shouts at Erica for missing Y/N’s school play. The rage leaks out of him, pours off his entire being. He tries jerking off more to increasingly violent porno magazines to calm himself down since Erica is sure not satisfying him. It doesn’t do enough though, not really. Finally, he tries boxing at the local gym himself, but it is not enough either. Boxing has rules. The first sorry sucker he gets in the ring with, he beats to the point of unconsciousness. Two men have to pull him off to get him to stop. They kick him out immediately.

So Joel tries going to the bar after work with the guys from the shop and drinking a little to take the edge off. That actually helps somewhat. He’s careful about it, never comes home drunk, never drinks in front of Erica or the kids. But what helps the most are the bar fights. He’s careful about that too. Only fights the assholes, which there are many of. Switches up the bars he goes to. But some motherfucker slaps a girl's ass without permission? Joel’s on him in seconds, watching like a predator from the shadows. Some dude throws a drink in the bartender’s face? Joel clobbers him half to death. And sometimes? People in the bar applaud him, even cheer him on. It’s probably because they’re intoxicated, but that’s how he justifies it to himself like he’s some kind of goddamn vigilante. Deep down he knows he is something much, much uglier. But at least he’s not doing it to Aiden, a child. And more importantly, at least it is away from Y/N.

***

One day, Y/N falls sick. It starts out as what seems like a cold with a nasty cough. Kids are little germ factories, Joel knows that. He tells himself it is nothing to worry about – that all kids get sick sometimes. The first few days she lies on the couch like a zombie, coughing incessantly into her elbow and sleeping a lot. She snores ever so slightly which he finds charming. Joel stays home from work with her because Erica has to be in court and they watch lots of nature documentaries and daytime talk shows.

Then the coughing gets worse and Joel’s brain stops functioning properly and he has trouble explaining why. He feels more on edge, more agitated. Erica takes Y/N to the doctor and comes back with a diagnosis: walking pneumonia. Nothing too serious, lots of kids get it. She is prescribed antibiotics and is supposed to drink lots of fluids and wait it out. But when Erica tells Joel the news of what the doctor told her he is holding a glass of water and it shatters in his large hand, cutting the skin of his middle finger.

“Fuck!” he yells.

And he cannot articulate precisely why, but he feels good that there is a justified reason to yell.

Erica wipes his hand and cleans the glass up.

“Gotta go to court again today, honey,” she says like everything is fine and normal. “Can you look after her today? Call in sick? She’s in bed. Going through it.”

Joel nods and she is gone like this whole thing is nothing. Like her precious, living breathing child is not suffering in the room above his head.

He climbs the stairs and enters Y/N’s room. He doesn’t often spend much time there. The walls are painted pink and differently shaped dolls and stuffed animals line the white vanity across from her canopied bed. He does not think he has ever seen Y/N play with any of those specific toys, come to think of it, or express any interest in the color pink (no doubt Erica’s secret passion for interior design rearing its ugly head). He vows silently, one day, to paint the walls any color she wants.

But there she is, sprawled out in her bed coughing a nasty cough. Something shifts inside Joel at the sound. She looks unwell and weak and so small.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, almost robotically.

Something is not right. He sits on the edge of her bed, feels her burning forehead. He takes her temperature gently with the thermometer that goes in her ear. He feels that weird sensation like he’s been here before even though he has hardly ever entered her bedroom. One hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit it reads when it beeps. Joel swallows a lump in his throat that he didn’t realize was there.

She coughs pathetically. She looks out of it, her eyes far away. Joel’s heart throbs painfully.

Y/N is mumbling something incoherent now. Joel leans a little closer so he can decipher the words.

He makes out something like: No, Dad. Don’t. Stop, please. Please, not tonight.

Joel stops breathing.

She must be delirious from the fever.

And then she’s crying. Quietly, but crying all the less. And this time, unlike every time he has seen her tears before, she sobs. Actually makes noise, her chest wracked with it.

Then she coughs so hard she starts to wheeze and it hits Joel so ferociously he practically loses his grip on reality.

When Sarah was sick she had leukemia, a blood cancer. And cancer requires treatment. Expensive treatment. But of course, Joel hadn’t cared. He would have sold every item he owned to save his child, would have traveled to the ends of the earth if he had to, done literally any and everything in his power to protect her. So he paid for most of her chemotherapy with high hopes. Desperate hopes, but high ones. It had been her best shot at getting better according to the doctors. And the thing about chemo is, the side effects can literally be deadly. Joel is not a man of science, but the doctor explained that those drugs kill the bad cells that make up the cancer, but also the good ones. It fucks with your immune system, weakens you. Makes you lose your hair, vomit, and or be so weak you can barely walk. All that happened to Sarah. Joel felt like a traitor taking her to those treatments. Logically, he knew they were necessary, but he always felt like he was the one doing those awful things to her. It eviscerated him, left him raw and empty, and helpless like a child.

But in the end, it was the pneumonia that killed her. Her body couldn’t fight it off. She’d died in a hospital bed, Joel at her side, holding her hand, unable to do a single damned thing except scream .

Y/N coughs again, simultaneously pulling him from his thoughts and throwing him back into them. His heart is pounding in his chest to Do something! But there is nothing to be done, nothing he can do! Why can’t he ever seem to protect her?

She looks up just then, notices him for the first time since he entered the room, still crying feebly.

“He hurt me,” she whispers up at him, her eyes glazed over and glistening with tears. She reaches out for a handful of his dark blue work shirt and pulls it tightly to her. “He hurt me. And I couldn’t–I c-couldn’t…”

And then he is holding her, not quite sure how, but he is holding her trembling body to his chest and he will not let her go. Not for the world, not for anyone. He will not lose this child. He wraps his arms around her, holds tight. He will keep her safe, no matter the cost.

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he whispers. “I got you.”

***

Joel and Erica get married that spring. They agree on a private ceremony in front of a judge with only Y/N and Aiden in attendance. When Aiden hears the news, he throws a fit, He breaks dishes and punches a hole in the TV set which sets Joel’s teeth on edge. But Y/N is overjoyed. In the end, he and Joel adorn what Joel considers monkey suits and Erica wears a beautiful white dress that accentuates her figure. Y/N wears a frilly pink dress and carries a basket of pink roses. Joel never thought he’d be a married man and yet here he is. He imagines Sarah in attendance too and his heart aches. This is his life now.

He refuses to wear a ring.

***

Time passes. Long stretches of time where things feel–dare he think it–normal.

Aiden doesn’t beat Y/N, but begins to get into fights at school. Joel saves his violence for the bar scene which he begins frequenting more often.

Erica starts working later, gets promoted in her job. Fucks Joel less and less, not that he cares very much.

Joel goes to back-to-school nights and family cookouts. He teaches Y/N to play the guitar and how to fix car motors. In both these activities, she is no natural, but she tries her best and listens well. She smiles more than he’s ever seen. He drives her to sleepovers and Aiden to boxing practice. He paints her bedroom walls orange.

Things feel stable.

Two Christmases pass.

And then things take a downturn.

***

One evening, Joel returns home from work later than usual. When he arrives home in his truck, he notices an expensive sports car in the driveway. Erica has affluent friends, sure, but he’s never seen this particular car before. Something about that doesn’t sit right with him.

He opens the front door with a creak and Erica intercepts him before he can make it to the dining room table for dinner. She presses a hand to his forearm bulking with muscle.

“Don’t freak out,” she whispers urgently.

Joel stops and hears the sounds of people eating dinner and a man’s raspy voice speaking.

“Freak out about what?”

He makes his way past her to the dining room. He sees a man he does not immediately recognize sitting at the head of the table, Y/N is flanking one side of the table next to him and Aiden the other. He is conventionally handsome and wearing an expensive pinstripe suit. When he looks up, he smirks at Joel. Joel thinks he looks kind of like Aiden if you were to squint. And then he understands who he is.

“The fuck are you doing in my house?” he growls, lunging forward.

“ Your house?” the man smirks again, unflinching.

He looks Joel over, examining his mechanic’s uniform, the grease stain on Joel’s cheek.

Erica grabs Joel. She pulls him back out into the hallway.

“Tell him he’s not welcome here,” Joel snarls, trying to get a look at the man over Erica’s shoulder.

She pushes him backward gently. Instantly, he is worried for Y/N, for all intents and purposes alone in there with the man who abused her and this entire goddamn family for that matter. He catches a glance at her and she looks terrified . Aiden, conversely, Joel sees, looks like he just won the lottery, staring up at his dad in adoration. Joel doesn’t think he has ever seen him look so happy.

“This is important to them,” Erica snaps quietly. “That’s their father. He has a right–”

“Get him out of here or I’ll kill him,” Joel says deadly quietly. “He what? Doesn’t show up for over three years and you think that–”

“I know that he has a right to speak to them. I am their mother and they need a sense of closure. Aiden needs this. So you will sit down at that table and have an amicable dinner or so help me God, Joel.”

Erica never speaks to him like this. He is shocked.

“Fine,” he snarls after a while, his chest heaving.

He can hardly think straight while Y/N is in there alone with that excuse for a man. Better he be close to protect her instead of thrown out of the house.

He walks back in with Erica, who sits next to Y/N, leaving Joel nowhere to go but next to Aiden.

“I’m Derek,” the children’s father says, leaning over the food Erica has prepared to shake Joel’s hand.

Joel doesn’t take it.

“And you must be Joe? The new husband.”

“Joel,” he replies shortly.

He looks over at Y/N who is trying to be brave, he can tell, but deep in her eyes, looks petrified.

They eat dinner in tense silence until Derek breaks it and begins bragging about his golf club record, the latest client he’s been representing, his new girlfriend, Sylvia.

“See, she’s helping me become a better man,” Derek insists with a forkful of steak. “I know I haven’t always been…the greatest of fathers or partners, but she really convinced me coming here would be a good thing. That it would be healing. You guys will meet someday, I’m sure.”

Joel leans forward toward Derek, reeling at the idea that this man could possibly be back in the picture of his family’s life, but Erica reaches under the table and squeezes his knee in a death grip and Joel holds himself back.

Aiden hangs on his father’s every word. Erica looks somewhat intrigued after she lets go of her husband’s leg. Y/N screams silently at Joel, who tries his best to communicate without words that he will keep her safe.

“And I know I’ve missed quite a bit,” Derek continues. “Which is why I brought these. Sylvia’s idea, really.”

He reaches down toward his feet and pulls out a fancy golden gift bag and takes out two presents. He hands one to Aiden and the other one to Y/N. Aiden rips his open excitedly. Inside is a hunting knife with a red handle.

Great, Joel thinks.

Y/N doesn’t move though, stopped like a deer in the headlights.

“Open it, girl,” Derek sneers.

She looks over at Joel.

“Go on, baby,” he says softly, heat pumping through his blood.

She unwraps the pink wrapping paper and finds a Barbie doll in a clear plastic box. Joel has never seen her play with dolls at all come to think of it.

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Erica smiles cautiously.

“Thanks, Dad,” Aiden says enthusiastically. “Can’t wait to show the guys at ROTC.”

“Good for you, son,” Derek grins. “Serving our country is the highest of honors.”

Joel suddenly tries not to think about Tommy blasted to bits halfway across the world in Afghanistan, his body in such bad condition all that he got left of his baby brother was a finger and two bent dog tags.

Aiden beams.

“Well,” Derek barks, eyeing Y/N distastefully. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he taunts.

Joel sees where Aiden gets it from. This arrogant, bullying behavior. He shifts in his seat, ready to strike if necessary.

“Thanks,” she says very quietly.

Derek grins in a kind of satisfaction that makes Joel want to go over there and punch his daylights out. He almost does too until Erica kicks his shin beneath the table and he controls himself.

Y/N frowns. She looks over at Joel, then back at her father. Something ripples across her face, but it goes so quickly Joel cannot assign any meaning to it. But she looks ever so less scared somehow, more angry almost, but not quite.

And then after about ten minutes of somewhat peaceful eating and Derek making Aiden and Erica laugh with stupid anecdotes from his court cases while Joel and Y/N exchange looks, it happens.

Y/N’s hand reaches forward and knocks against her glass of coke. It goes flying over in Derek’s direction and drenches him in the sticky liquid, staining his suit.

“Sorry, Dad!” she squeaks immediately. “Oh my god, I–”

“You little slut!” he roars in response, almost like a reflex, backhanding Y/N across the face with lightning speed and accuracy. “Do you know how much this fucking suit cost!?”

The force of the blow is so strong it knocks Y/N from her chair onto the ground.

Before a coherent thought can even go through Joel’s head he is on the other man, slamming him up against the wall behind him by the throat.

“Joel, don’t you dare!” Erica yells, but it is too late.

Joel sees red and can’t exactly recall what he does next, but it goes something like this:

He squeezes around Derek’s throat and bangs his head backward against the wall a few times. The other man tries to get a punch in, but Joel ducks and kicks him in the balls. Derek crumples to the ground and Joel gives his chest another hard kick. He whines pathetically.

Aiden gets up then, but Erica uses all of her strength to pull him back before he can get involved in the mix. He resists, shouts something that Joel cannot make out, but Erica manages to keep him from the two men with a great amount of effort and struggle.

Derek is on the floor now and Joel is straddling him, landing punch after ruthless punch down onto his head. His nose begins to bleed, but Joel keeps punching.

“HOW DARE YOU?” he roars down at the trembling, gushing man on the floor.

There is so much blood splurting all over his face, dripping down onto his expensive stained suit, and the floor that Derek almost stops looking like Derek. Joel sees Aiden’s face in his features. And then there is so much blood that it could be anyone’s face screaming back at him for mercy. It could be those creepy, asshole men at the bar. It could be the much bigger kid who always used to beat up Tommy every day in the schoolyard. It could be that damned head doctor who let his babygirl die. It could even be his no-good, bastard, alcoholic papá .

He turns his head ever so slightly while still delivering punches. Erica has Aiden in a bear hug. She is screaming for Joel to stop. Aiden is bellowing something that sounds like, You bastard, I’ll kill you! Get off of him! I’ll kill you! And then Joel sees Y/N still on the floor from where she was knocked. Her face is still turned in the same direction it was slapped into, but she is not crying or screaming. Her eyes are dancing.

They connect with Joel’s.

He knows he is supposed to be a good man for her, but she doesn’t seem to mind his deviant behavior. He stops then, though, because otherwise he thinks he will kill the man and he doesn’t want Y/N to experience that. He steals a glance at her again and she looks ever so slightly disappointed, but her wide-eyed expression tells Joel that Christmas has come early this year. She sends him a look of gratitude and Joel thinks that maybe he did act like a good man for her after all in the case of this vile, pathetic person who is supposed to be her father.

Finally, Joel stands up. He walks over and reaches out a bloody hand to Y/N and pulls her gently from the ground. Even after she’s standing upright she doesn’t let go of him.

Derek gets up after a while, wiping his sleeve over his face to try to tame the excess blood. Joel thinks that maybe he broke the man’s nose. He feels not a shred of remorse. The other man spits on the ground at Joel’s feet and leaves without saying goodbye to his ex-wife or children, slamming the front door behind him.

Erica is not pleased with Joel’s behavior. Aiden is shouting and screaming. He breaks a plate by throwing it onto the floor with a loud crash. Joel leans over and grabs the knife his father gave him and sticks it in his front pocket so Aiden doesn’t feel tempted to use it. Y/N’s small hand is still in his.

When Aiden is coherent enough to listen to instructions and all screamed out, Erica sends the children upstairs to bed.

Joel tries to walk Y/N up to bed to tuck her in, but Erica stops him.

“ Not you,” she growls at Joel.

She is livid in a way Joel has never seen before. For a moment, he seriously wonders if this is the end of their relationship.

The kids scamper upstairs and Erica yells at Joel for ages.

At a certain point, he stops listening. He doesn’t try to argue back. Doesn’t care to. He is actually calm now, though his chest is still heaving from the exertion, more calm than he’s been in ages. He knows that she will never understand why he had to do what he did to Derek. She lives in another reality where his violence is not acceptable if she has to bear witness to it. She doesn’t care about Y/N the way she is supposed to. Never has. Doesn’t know or see her. Not the way Joel does. Has too big a soft spot for Aiden. Tolerated Joel’s violence toward him though like a coward. Maybe deep down she knew he needed some kind of discipline? But when Joel lays a hand on her scumbag of an ex-husband that’s what’s too far? When he hurt her own daughter? When Joel himself was responsible for hurting her own precious son? Where was her outrage then?

But he voices none of this. Pushes it down. He cannot lose her. Not this house, not the kids, not the financial security. Never Y/N.

Erica banishes him to the couch for the first time in their relationship. Joel doesn’t mind.

Hours later, late into the night, he hears soft footsteps walking down the stairs. He rolls over on the sofa to see who is approaching. He wonders if it is Erica there to apologize because he knows her well enough to know by now that she will forgive him eventually. She will forgive anything it seems. But it is not Erica at all.

“Joel?” a little voice asks quietly. “You up?”

“Yeah, baby,” he replies. “You okay? I’m so sorry he pulled that shit on you.”

Y/N shrugs.

“Sorry I…I didn’t stop it before it happened,” he admits like a secret.

She shrugs again.

“‘M sorry she made you sleep on the couch and all,” she replies.

“‘S no trouble. I don’t mind.”

“But it’s my fault you got in trouble in the first place.”

“Y/N, you ain’t done nothing wrong,” Joel tells her seriously.

It’s hard to see her in the dark, but he thinks she’s grimacing guiltily.

“I just wanted to say…” she begins hesitantly. “Thanks for like sticking up for me and all that. You…you’re the only one who does.”

Joel hides a smile from his babygirl. Something inside him likes being that person for her, he cannot lie to himself. Likes being the one she can count on.

“You were like some MMA fighter,” she continues. “But then all the blood was like in The Shining .”

One day, not long ago, Joel had fallen asleep on the couch when The Shining came on and Y/N had watched the entire thing out of her own free will. That movie had frightened the shit out of him as a kid!

“I’m sorry if I scared you, sweetheart.”

“You didn’t,” Y/N replies matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t scared of what you did for a second…I know that’s messed up, but I kinda wanted you to…”

She trails off.

Joel understands.

“I kinda, please don’t get mad, but I sorta knocked the cup over on purpose,” she admits.

Joel’s eyebrows go way up on his forehead in surprise.

“It’s just,” she babbles quickly in self-defense. “Mom and Aiden were like giggling and hanging onto every dumb thing he said and it scared me. I thought they might let him keep coming around and start liking him again. And I also knew he hadn’t changed too. I could tell on account of how he was looking at me in that same mean way he always did. And I also knew you’d save me like you always do and you had this angry look in your eyes. I knew what you would do. I could feel it in my gut…”

“You little shit!” Joel smirks.

He has to give her credit where credit was due – that was incredibly shrewd. Dangerous, but oh so clever. She played everyone in that room like a fiddle. Joel is honestly kind of proud.

“You mad?” she asks tentatively, biting her bottom lip.

“Nah,” Joel grins. “At you? Never. You shouldn’t have had to let him hurt you to get him away from you, but you protected yourself and that’s the most important thing. If I had to do it over, I would.”

Y/N smiles.

She’s a fucked up little girl, but Joel is a fucked up man, and they both live in a fucked up world.

“Got your back,” he grunts. “Remember that. Now scurry along back to bed and get some rest.”

“G’night, Joel.”

***

Time passes.

Erica forgives Joel of course and Derek never comes around again.

Y/N and Aiden grow bigger.

They go on camping trips and Joel teaches Y/N and Aiden how to fish. Never thought he would see the day where Aiden was willingly listening to his instructions, but the day comes anyway. Of course, the boy’s favorite part is cutting up the bloody fish guts like Joel’s used to be as a child. Y/N likes the part where you wait for the fish to bite. She sits next to Joel on the grassy river bank, the sun shining down on the lazy lake they are camping by, and smiles softly to herself.

Another two Christmases pass.

All the while, Joel is visiting the bar more and not necessarily to drink. His violent streak is getting worse somehow. He thinks, though he’s no goddamn shrink, that it might have something to do with the fact that he and Erica are not having any sex. Their relationship is still amicable and she is still sweet to him, and he tries his best to be to her too, but in the bedroom is mostly crickets. Joel jerks off, of course he does, but his fist is no substitute for a warm body.

Joel causes such a scene at the bar he frequents the most, that the cops have to be called. He ditches the place before he can get arrested, but he’s getting worried about his behavior. Something must change.

So then come the women. They practically throw themselves at him. Never has he thought he was that attractive until women literally offer themselves up to him on a silver platter after saving them from some drunken creep. Joel had always declined until now. But Joel is only a man. He fucks them rough and dirty (with their permission of course – Joel is not a good man, and a lot of things, but he isn’t a fucking rapist) in the bathroom stalls, in the alleyways. In the moment it feels good and helps him let off some steam, but after he feels guilty. And it doesn’t satisfy him much more than with Erica if he really thinks about it. One thing that Erica has over these women who let him act out his violent self is the look of devotion in her eyes. That’s always the thing that gets Joel to cum in the end when he does get to fuck her.

He would leave her, she isn’t that special to him if he’s honest, but she offers him a twofold sense of stability he has never known in his life. The first fold is the financial stability that has evaded him all of his days. The second is the feeling of family . Something so mundane and normal. And despite her flaws, she treats him so well – better than Sarah’s mother ever did. And most importantly, he doesn’t think he could leave Y/N. Not now. Not when she looks at him like he is the universe. Not even Aiden whom Joel has (begrudgingly) begun to see the traces of himself in.

***

This particular muggy, summer day begins normally. Joel goes to work, fixes a Chevy Impala’s fluid tank. And then he walks in with an old, beat-up Honda Accord.

His name is David, and Joel has heard of him through murmurings and bar stories and whispers at community barbeques. He’s a notorious neighborhood legend, whose house kids cross the street to avoid. He is the boogeyman at the end of the cul-de-sac.

The story is, though through the many versions Joel has heard some of the details get muddled, that he kidnapped and raped a twelve-year-old girl (that part all versions agree on). Some say he was supposed to have ten years in prison, others say twenty, but whatever the number he got out in one for “good behavior.” In jail, he supposedly devoted his life to God and became a preacher.

Joel doesn’t want to help him, but his boss hisses at him that money is money and he’s going to serve the man whether Joel likes it or not.

There’s something wrong with the exhaust pipe, so Joel bends down and takes a look at it. He opens the trunk and sees a box of Bibles next to a plastic bag of zip ties. His blood runs cold.

“The fuck is this shit doing in your car?” he growls, referring to the zip ties.

“The Bible is the word of God, Mr. Miller,” David replies, eyeing Joel’s nametag. “Would you like one? I’m always trying to spread The Good Word.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he spits, looking over to make sure his boss is not watching.

“If you must know, though it’s none of your business, those zip ties are for my garden to help hold up my plants. They are remarkably useful,” David smiles sickeningly politely.

And that’s when Joel loses it just a little.

He picks up the ties and pockets them.

“Listen here, you pedophile piece of shit,” he snarls. “If I hear about you stepping one goddamned pinky-toe out of line–”

“Hey, Joel!” A little voice calls.

The breath is knocked from Joel’s lungs.

Y/N bounds up to them holding a brown paper bag out of nowhere.

“You forgot your lunch! Mom dropped me off so you could have it. It’s tuna though. I hate hate tuna. But you’ll eat anything so I hope it’s good for you at least,” she babbles.

“Baby,” Joel says very quietly, his heart thrumming in his ribcage. “Right now’s not a great time. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll catch up with you later?”

Then she notices David. By the fact that she doesn’t immediately leave, Joel determines she has no clue who he is.

“Hello, young lady,” David smiles, eyeing Joel knowingly. “I’m Pastor David.”

“Uh, hi,” she says.

Joel thinks he might actually kill him.

“Would you like something to take home with you?” he asks.

Y/N blinks in confusion as Joel steps in front of her.

“She’ll be going now, won’t you Y/N?” Joel suggests dangerously.

“Here,” David says before she can respond.

He hands her a black-covered bible.

Y/N takes it, looks at the cover, and laughs. Joel and David both look down at her in surprise.

“No offense, ‘Pastor David,”’ she smirks. “But I don’t believe in that shit. Here, you can have it back,” she offers.

He takes back the book somewhat defeatedly. And Joel grins internally.

“Bye, Joel,” she tells him, still smirking.

She side-hugs him quickly and returns to Erica’s car.

“How dare you even look at her–” Joel booms at the sad, pathetic excuse for a man once she is out of earshot.

His hands are clenched into fists and they are shaking. Every part of him is on fire.

“I think I’ll be going now,” David interjects lightly. “I can see my business isn’t welcome here. You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Miller. Quite a mouth on her. Shame if something were to happen to her…Oh, the things someone like me could make her believe…”

Joel reaches back his fist to punch, to pummel, to kill, but suddenly, another hand grabs his and holds it in place. Joel’s boss has materialized behind him and is holding him back. Good thing too. It’s probably the only thing that saves Joel’s career and David’s life.

David winks and drives away as the boss begins to reprimand Joel who is still shaking and fuming.

All he knows is this: If anyone touches his babygirl he will not hesitate to put them six feet under, no matter the cost to himself. He will not hesitate to get blood on his calloused hands. He will not hesitate to kill. And this time? His baby will not sustain a single scratch . He will not wait for her to get hurt before he acts.

***

Joel wants nothing more than to go home and spend time with his babygirl and wife and even his step-son if he will allow, but there is blood popping and oozing and broiling and churning under his skin like billowing, bubbling lava. If he doesn’t do something about it soon he will explode worse than a volcanic eruption so he heads to the seediest bar he can think of. He makes his way inside and sits right up at the bar, already occupied by a few people. He orders a drink (his usual: whiskey on the rocks) and waits for the impending opportunity for violence he is sure is lying in wait.

He cannot believe the shit that came out of ‘Pastor-fucking-David’s’ sick, perverted mouth and that he almost lost his job over it. He lets that thought charge him up into a rage, his fists clenched so tightly they are beginning to ache in the joints. He cannot believe that disgusting little fucker had the audacity to say that horrible scummy bullshit in his presence when he would do anything to protect that innocent child. He takes a drink of his whiskey and knocks it back in one gulp. He would do anything , ‘Lord’ only knows. He snickers to himself sinisterly.

And while he’s on the topic, fuck God! When had He ever done a single damn good thing for Joel his entire miserable life except maybe to give him Sarah and then take her away like she was nothing and not the entire light of the universe wrapped into a small, vulnerable person? Joel doesn’t know much about the bible, truth be told, but he remembers a few things from his Sunday school days. He remembers that people are created in the image of God and the stories he remembers most are from the Old Testament which heavily featured a God of absolute rage. Maybe that is the way he is god-like, built of anger and revenge and wrath and the sick, pathetic hunger for power that lurks inside most people.

But he also remembers Jesus being meek and mild. Joel never understood that desire until he had Sarah and then Y/N in his care. If Joel could snap his fingers and make himself some fundamentally kind and caring man he would, but he can’t. Joel Miller is not a good man. He tried to be for Y/N, he truly did, but look at everything he’s done in the time he’s known her: he used Erica to get financial stability and roof over his head, he’s cheated on her numerous times, he beat Aiden, a child, and everyday the weight of that guilt grows greater as he begins to truly understand how wrong that was, and he beat his babygirl’s pathetic excuse for a father (but still her father) in front of her. He also beat people in bar fights and that time at the gym. And the thing is: is he even a little bit sorry about any of it – except for maybe what he did to Aiden? No, not even a little. And he’d do all of it again if it could mean getting to spend time with his babygirl, Y/N, again. His babygirl who FUCKING DAVID tried to threaten!

And the problem is: who knows what that fucker is capable of? The police and the judicial system let him out after one year which can only be described as a colossal moral failure and a massive miscarriage of justice. It wouldn’t take much for David to really figure out where they lived and grab Y/N and throw her in his trunk like he did that poor other little girl. Maybe that’s paranoid, but Joel knows better than most that when a man wants to do a dark thing he will find a way to do it. Joel does not want to live his life constantly looking over his shoulder as some horrendous pedophile lives freely.

And then he turns his head to look down at the rest of the fairly busy bar and he sees him . None other than David himself, drinking a beer. Joel cannot believe his luck. It is like all of the light in heaven has aligned to give him such a gift. A part of him is screaming to not engage because Joel is sure he could kill him for what he said about Y/N. But the rest of him is already standing up and grabbing David by the shoulder and–

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here now ,” he snarls. “Almost lost my job because of you, you sick fuck. You’re lucky I give you a warning and don’t wring your neck on the fucking spot.”

David turns around, Joel’s fingers digging into his shoulder.

“Proverbs 24:1 and 2,” he quotes calmly. “‘Do not envy wicked men or desire their company; for their hearts devise violence, and their lips declare trouble.’”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means perhaps I will be leaving. I don’t care to spend my time with wicked men such as yourself. And I have many preparations to make for what is to come. How is your daughter doing since we last met?”

Joel’s heart runs cold.

“Get my baby’s name out of your goddamned mouth .”

“Hope we run into each other soon,” David grins as he gets off the barstool and dislodges himself from Joel’s grip. “There is a lot I could teach her.”

He turns to leave. Disgusting coward, Joel thinks. He could let the man go. But then what? Live in fear of him? Let his precious Y/N live in fear of him? Joel is tired of living in fear, of resigning to a cruel man in a cruel world, and he will never do that or let Y/N do that ever again.

And then David leans in so close that Joel can smell the alcohol on his breath and the sweat on his skin.

“Can’t stop thinking about her pretty little hands around my–”

Joel doesn’t let him finish. In that moment he knows what will transpire. He picked this seedy-ass bar for a reason: so that no one will bother to stop him.

He lands the first punch with ease, doesn’t even feel the pain till minutes later. The force of the blow to David’s head is so strong he slams down into the ground. It is so violent that David’s eyelid starts to bleed and the skin around the impact spot becomes puffy and dark.

David shouts for help, but no one in this place gives a fuck and even if they did everybody knows who he is and what he did so they don’t give a shit two times over.

Joel continues the assault. Punch after punch reigns down on the other man as blood begins to coat his features. David tries to get a punch or two into Joel’s stomach, but Joel straddles each of his biceps and holds him down so he can continue hitting. The longer Joel hits, the better he feels. This time is different. This time he does not see the features of every man he’s ever hated in the face of his victim. This time he sees only David’s disgusting smirk in his mind’s eye. This time he only thinks about how he is saving Y/N from a lifetime of fear and cruelty. This time Joel will not let his adversary get a strike in first. This time he will be the one to stop the fate of impending devastation that lies in the palms of David’s shaking and broken hands. This time he can save her .

When Joel is done with his hands, he is panting heavily. He moves on to his feet, kicking the man’s gut sadistically, his trembling hands, his face. Crunch , goes David’s skull. And then he is not moving or breathing.

Joel stops.

A lick of fear trails against the inside of his stomach, but the rage, always the rage warms his stomach like a rush of flames.

So he keeps going. He bends back down and squeezes the man’s throat just to make sure. It’s good he did too because David’s bloodshot, viens-having-burst eyes snap open and David makes a pathetic little squealing noise and Joel squeezes harder, rougher, with more conviction.

In the end, it takes longer than he thought it would.

Joel only stops when he hears sirens blaring in the distance. He looks up for the first time since the assault started and sees all of the patrons staring at him in revulsion and fear. The bartender actually has the phone in her hand. Joel guesses she was the one to finally call the cops. He guesses he was so sadistic and violent that even this shitty place had seen enough. He thinks to run, briefly, but where would he run to? Everything he has ever wanted in life is now going to be closed off to him. But he saved Y/N and that makes everything worth it. It has to have been worth it.

Joel puts two scarred, calloused fingers to David’s pulse point, as blood (his and David’s) drips down from his knuckle onto the wooden floor and feels nothing.

When the cops handcuff him and take him away, he doesn’t resist. He comes quietly. He cannot ever really be a good man for Y/N, he understands that now, but at least now she and he may know some peace of mind after what he’s done.

***

The time leading up to the trial is a blur.

Erica pays for an excellent lawyer, but divorces him on the spot. It seems there are some things even she will not forgive, and apparently murder is one of them. She allows the children to see him one last time in cold, sterile police interrogation room. A court-appointed child advocate social worker must be present. They allow him to have his handcuffs taken off for the first time since he was arrested. The kids are told he accidentally killed someone in a bar fight and for legal reasons he leans into the “accidental” part.

Aiden comes in first. He knew who David was and tells Joel he did the right thing. Joel is surprised. He reaches out a limp hand, dirt caked under his fingernails, and shakes Joel’s for the first time since they’ve known each other and they part ways on good terms.

“You’re not my dad,” Aiden tells him quietly. “But you always put up a good fight to be there.”

And he leaves.

Joel is more touched than he wants to believe.

Y/N’s visit is much more difficult.

“How could you!?” she screams, standing by the door the second she sees him as he sits at the interrogation table, his chair turned toward her.

At first Joel thinks she means how could he killl another human being. Y/N didn’t seem to know who David was after all. But that’s not what she is mad about.

“How could you leave me!?” she shouts, tears in her eyes. “You’re going to be taken away from me! Mom is leaving you because of this and that means you aren’t like my dad anymore. You’re going to forget all about me and never get to see me again because you killed some dumb man who tried to give me a bible?”

“He was not a good man,” is all Joel can say.

He can’t be the one to tell her more, hasn’t told anyone how David had threatened her. Not even his lawyer. He doesn’t want to scare her, doesn’t want to admit to anyone he let those words even get to leave that shit stain’s mouth.

“I don’t care!” she shouts again. “I want you!”

And then she bursts into tears and runs into his chest and Joel holds her against his orange jumpsuit and starts to feel tears trickling down his own cheeks.

“Never gonna forget about you,” he nearly scolds her into hair. “How could you ever think that, baby? You’re my babygirl. I’ll get out one day and come right back to you, understand?”

“But Mom–”

“You’ll be grown by the time I get out and won’t have to worry about what she says. But I’ll tell you this: you might feel different about me by the time your grown up and however you feel I want you to know I’ll respect that. But I ain’t gonna forget about you. Not ever.”

“Your time is up,” the court-appointed social worker states.

“No!” Y/N shouts, burying herself deeper into Joel’s embrace. “NO! I’m not leaving! I won’t leave you!”

Joel hugs her back tightly, crying into the top of her head as she sobs softly into his chest.

In the end, the social worker has to pull her away as she screams.

“I love you, Y/N!” he calls to her as the social worker drags her from him. “Never gonna forget you, babygirl. Remember that.”

All Joel can hear back is a broken wail.

***

Erica attends the trial; the kids are forbidden. Joel’s defense claims it was a drunken accident and goes for manslaughter. Because he killed a known child molester he has no trouble while he waits in jail. He is even considered a hero by some. No one tries to fuck with him and that’s how Joel would prefer it since if he gets into too many fights it will just add to his sentence and he must get out and get back to his babygirl if she’ll still have him. His lawyer tells him not to mention the threats that David made toward Y/N because it will look like more of a reason that Joel would have had to intentionally kill him as opposed to accidentally like the manslaughter plea would have the court believe. Joel listens. He does exactly what he’s told because this lawyer is good and he needs to get out someday for christ sake.

In the end, he gets ten years and his lawyer tells him he could get eight for good behavior.

Eight years, if Joel can manage it.

They take him away to prison in handcuffs. Erica sobs. It is the last time he sees her.

***

Joel always wondered if his temper would land him in prison. Now that he’s here things go surpringly well. He gets a reputation for being the murderer of a child molestor and people respect him, listen to him when he bothers to speak. He keeps things in order and people start to refer to him as the “pod boss.” He also reads a lot in his cell, tries to help people with their cases and appeals if he can. And if someone steps out of line, Joel is more than happy to put them in their place so long as he can avoid attention from the guards, who he actually mostly gets along with to their faces, but behind their backs beats people to a pulp. No one ever dares to snitch on him and he is considered on the right track to get out for good behavior early.

Time passes — painfully long stretches of time.

He has a lot of time to think, to read. He reads every book in the prison library over the time he is incarcerated. He reads parenting books, self-help books, books on trauma, books on abuse, books on anger management, books on meditation, books on spirituality (nothing sticks in that regard though, he is still furious like God, but less so these days). Somehow his anger has started to simmer down a notch.

But he worries his babygirl will forget about him, or worse grow to hate him. He’s not sure he’ll survive that.

Luckily, or he might have withered away and died, somehow Y/N convinces Erica to let her write him a letter once a month and have one call with him on Christmas.

Christmases quickly become his favorite day of the year.

Y/N writes him religiously. She talks about how angry she is at him, how she misses him, how she finally fixed the motor on Joel’s old pickup truck, how some boy gave her a love letter on Valentine’s Day, how she thinks of him every day.

Joel never tells her what David said about her, lets her believe he is just some violent, drunken idiot. He writes back how much he misses her, how he read a new book this week, how prison food is shit, how he’d probably greet that boy with a shotgun if he thinks he’s getting anywhere with his babygirl, how his whole heart beats for her.

She’s allowed to send him one photo a year, her most current school photo, and Joel hangs them on the wall of his cell so he can see her beaming at him at his highest and lowest moments along with the tiny picture of Sarah he managed to save from his wallet.

Aiden even sends him a card each Father’s Day. It never has anything written in it except for whatever stupid pun or text the card came with, but Joel reads between the lines with that one. Each one seems to whisper to him louder and louder, I love you and I forgive you. Joel writes him back, “Thanks, kiddo. -Joel” He hope that conveys the thousands of sorrys he wants to scream from the rooftops and say straight to the boy’s face. He will someday when he gets out. He makes himself promise. He hears from Y/N when Aiden joins the marines.

When Joel gets to actually hear Y/N’s voice on the old prison phone it’s like the most beautiful sound he has ever heard except for maybe Sarah’s voice. She babbles away about her life and what’s she’s up to and he hangs on every word like gospel. He barely gets a word in, but prefers it that way. Wishes he could hear her singing. Once, when she’s sixteen, and sounds so woefully grown up it hurts Joel’s entire heart, she hums a little absentmindedly and he can’t get the sweet sound out of his head. Her love for him never seems to waver and that is a blessing that Joel will never forget, the only thing he would thank this cruel God for. And of course, his love for her never wavers either. She is the only beacon of light for him in this dark and mundane existence. She is his everything.

***

When Y/N is eighteen and no longer under her mother’s control, she comes to visit him in person. This is the first time they have seen each other in six years. Despite their loving correspondence, Joel is nervous to see her for the first time since her childhood. He worries about how awkward it might be.

When he sees her walking into the dinky little family meeting room, his entire mode of existence changes.

She looks so beautiful, so grown-up. Sure she had always been a cute little kid, Joel always thought that, but now she is a woman. Tears come to Joel’s eyes. When her eyes connect with his, he feels so seen .

He tries to get a word out, but before he can she is running to him, into his arms and Joel has never felt something so perfect in his entire life. He knows he has never felt a love like this before. Not even with Sarah…something about this is different somehow? Joel is not too in touch with his feelings, but he’s trying to be more attentive to them these days with nothing left to do but read about such topics as “emotional regulation” and “mindfulness.” He’ll come back to this thought later though…

Y/N begins to babble into his ear, something about missing him and not wanting it to be awkward, but this is the furthest from awkward Joel has ever felt.

Joel has never been a man of many words so all he can think to say is,

“Missed you, babygirl.”

She grins at that, brighter than all the suns of all the planets in the universe (Joel has been reading about those too) and he laughs for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

She laughs too, wipes tears from her eyes, and says,

“Missed you too, Joel. More than you know.”

Joel thinks that can’t possibly be true for that is all he has known for the last six years and possibly his entire life: missing her.

She comes once a month, drives an hour just to see him, and she tells him about college and later her very own shitty apartment. Her mother has thrown herself into her work and Aiden is serving his second tour. She makes good grades and has a stable boyfriend that treats her well, she swears. Joel couldn’t be happier for her, except the boyfriend business does make him want to crush that little fucker’s head in for some reason.

***

The last time Y/N comes to visit before his release (eight years to the day for good behavior) (she is 20 damn years old already!) something feels different to Joel. When he hugs her to greet her, he’s suddenly very aware of her body, the curves of it, her softness. Her hair smells so good, he doesn’t want to let go of her and then to his intense dismay and shock he feels himself getting a little excited down south. Immediately, he lets go of her, feeling like a pervert, praying she didn’t and doesn’t notice. He doesn’t see any obvious signs from her and the two sit down (Joel rather quickly) at the flimsy, nailed-down table and they talk of Joel’s impending release. All the while, Joel is trying to stay calm. He convinces himself it was just an accident and that he hadn’t been around any women in what felt like an eternity and that’s what led him to get worked up. But when Y/N leaves to go home he feels a kind of dull longing in the bottom of his gut. A different kind of longing then what he had felt for a younger Y/N. Joel tells himself not to repress for the first goddamn time in his life and let himself feel. And he does. He feels butterflies and yearning and need, a great big need inside himself. And then he knows what else he feels: the gut-wrenching, unquenchable sensation of love and beneath that, primal, base, and self-loathing: desire .

In his solo cell (that he has acquired because he is the pod boss and respected) he jerks off to those thoughts, touches himself to those feelings. When he cums unusually hard, he feels an overwhelming amount of shame. Of this, Joel knows, he will never ever tell another soul. Joel also knows he will not hurt his babygirl any more than he already has, intentionally or not, not ever. But then again, being a good, upstanding man has never really quite been in his arsenal, has it?

Tags (LMK if you wanna be tagged!): @toxicanonymity @motelprincess444 @epicrainbowsheep @anama-cara @sheepdogchick3

@denileisariver @lochnymph @mewantpeepaw @fandomdaydreamer @r3dheadedwitch

PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING

PART 2

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

235 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

Text

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Saturday)

Summary | Back together as a family, but with a secret confession burning in your pocket. How is Tommy going to take the fact that you love his brother more than you probably should?

Word Count | 4.8K

Chapter Warnings | Our family back together. Mentions of consumption of alcohol & food. Explicit sex. Unprotecting PiV, breeding kink, (double)creampie (I said what I said👀), cum play, a sprinkling of anal/ass play, threesome dynamics (MMF), dirty talk, Tommy back to being our favourite cuck in the room kinda, Joel back to being our favourite breeding stud.

Authors Note | I.... actually think I hate this lmao. It's the first time I've felt meh about a chapter of this story, but the longer I look at it, the more I know I'll hate it, so I'm sharing it anyway. It's refreshing to have our trio back together though, they're as filthy as ever so I hope you all enjoy it! Two more chapters to go until we wrap up with these three and I am so emotional. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel wakes the next morning to you wriggling about in his arms. He cracks an eye open just enough to see you clambering to straddle his lap, palms resting on his biceps to steady yourself as you lower your pussy onto him, already hard, to drag him through your folds, already soaked for him, or maybe still soaked from him from last night.

“Mornin’ trouble,” He speaks, voice still heavy with sleep, “What are you up to?”

His hands shift to your hips so you don’t stop those slow glides of your silken folds across him, watching as you shift your face from watching between you, to his own face. You bite at your bottom lip, bashful like a child who has been caught doing something they shouldn’t be.

“We could have fucked all day yesterday,” You drawl out, gasping as the head of his cock brushes against your clit, “I’m just trying to make up for lost time before we have a houseful of people.”

He drags your hips back and forth over him, watching as you toss your head back and gasp with every pass of him over your clit. He’s trying not to think about the fact that in a few short hours, you’re not going to be his anymore, you’ll go back to being his brother’s, a façade kept up for the sake of the rest of your family. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, sitting up so he can wrap his arms around your back and kiss you.

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” He murmurs against your lips, “Gonna sit on my cock and make yourself feel good?”

You pull back, look right into his eyes, hips still grinding against his, “Fuck yeah,” You breathe, “Can I?”

“Such a good girl,” He growls into the skin of your neck, “Askin’ all pretty and polite like that,” He settles himself back on the bed, head on the pillows, “Go on, pretty girl, take whatever you need from me.”

You use your hands that are back on his chest to push yourself up a little, reaching one hand down between you to grip the base of his cock, lining it up to your soaked core, before you sink down onto him in one go, burying him inside you to the hilt. He groans, and you cry out, feeling that twinge of pain along with the pleasure that has been so prevalent over those past few days.

You lift yourself up, almost all the way off him, sinking back down, finding your rhythm, which Joel quickly adheres to, thrusting himself up into you on your downward strokes so his cock is brushing against your cervix almost every time. His hands favour your tits this morning, cupping the weight of them in his palms as his fingers roll your nipples into peaks, squeezing perfectly every once in a while, to add to the mix of pleasure you get from him spearing his cock into you.

You lean back, motions moving to more of a grind on his cock as you cup his balls in your hand, rolling them gently in your hand, as Joel’s own fingers slip down your body and find your swollen clit, thumb rubbing circles across it as you continue to grind on him.

“You gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

Heat is licking at the base of your spine, threatening to topple you over at any moment, and you can tell from the way his hips are stuttering up into you, that Joel is close as well. You’ve had each other too many times this week for this to last very long.

“Fuck- keep going,” You groan, feeling that tight knot threatening to come undone in your tummy, “I’m – holy shit – I’m gonna come.”

“Go on, pretty girl,” Joel coaxes, thumb staying exactly where it is, doing exactly what it needs to do, “Come for me.”

And you do. Pussy clenching around his cock as you fall forward. Joel’s arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest as he takes control, thrusting up into you as you moan into the skin of his neck. He chases your high with his own, spilling into you just seconds after your own climax hits, his fingers digging into the skin of your back as he holds you tightly to his body.

As you both lie there, catching your breath, he wants to say something. Wants to push the hair from your face, kiss the tip of your nose and tell you that he wishes this didn’t have to end. Wishes that he didn’t have to wait a month to find out if he was successful in giving you another baby. Joel selfishly wishes he hasn’t, just so he doesn’t have to go back to waiting for that one night a year. He remembers though, his words from last night, that he’s trusting you to fix this, to come up with some solution that means he can have you differently going forward, so he keeps his mouth shut, only opening it once he’s pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

Breakfast is a cobbled together affair of fruit and coffee considering most of the groceries you’d bought together have been eaten. You sent Tommy a list of things for him to pick up on his way to you. He’d set off yesterday, stopping halfway to spend the night somewhere, not convinced that Joshua would cope with doing the whole journey at once, and it shouldn’t be long until they’re here, Sarah too.

“Excited, baby?” Joel asks, pressing you against the counter to dip and kiss you once you’ve both finished the washing up.

“I am going to give my baby the biggest squeeze known to man,” You smile against his mouth, “As much as he exhausts me sometimes, I’ve missed him.”

“We talking about Joshua or Tommy?” Joel teases, hands wrapping around you to grip the globes of your ass through your jeans.

You laugh, feeling light again. This man is the Joel you know, the Joel you love. The man who loves his brother just as much as you do, probably even more, and who takes his duties as Uncle incredibly seriously. You peer over his shoulder, looking at the clock on the wall, there’s enough time for a quickie, is what you think. You start trailing your hand down his chest, resting it on the front of his jeans, palming him through the material. You’re about to start dragging down the zipper when the front door opens.

“Dad?!”

Joel pulls back from you like you’re on fire, putting enough distance between you so as to not look suspicious as he calls out to Sarah.

“In here, kiddo!”

He gives you a look that tells you he’s sorry, that he wants nothing more than to have that one final moment with you on your own. You shake your head, heat flushing across your face at almost being caught, motioning for him to go to his daughter. Sarah finds the kitchen first, embracing her dad as he kisses the crown of her head.

“Hello brainbox,” You greet her when Joel lets her go, pulling her into a hug of your own, “You look good!” You say when you finally let her go, keeping her at an arm’s length to really look at her.

“Thanks,” She smiles, looking around for a second, “Where’s Uncle Tommy?”

You look at Joel over her head, because right. The story he concocted for her meant that he’s been here all week with Joshua and the two of them are nowhere to be seen, and neither is his truck.

“Uhhhhh…” You glare at Joel’s response, quickly trying to come up with something in your mind.

“He’s out grocery shopping,” You say quickly, Joel nodding in acceptance, “Ran out of stuff this morning so he’s taken Joshua into town to stock up.”

She nods, accepting your answer, moving back to give her dad another hug, “Which room is mine?” She asks, “I’ll go and drop my bag.”

“First door on the left.” Joel speaks, pointing down the hallway across from the kitchen.

“Alright, I might get changed too,” Sarah nods her head outside, “It’s a nice day, maybe we can take Joshua swimming?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Take your time, bug, there’s no rush.”

Once she’s started off down the hall, you fish your phone from your back pocket, punching in a text to Tommy, as Joel shifts back closer to you, not being able to bear being away from you too long.

Sarah arrived. Covered for your absence. Message me when you’re on your way from town and I’ll meet you outside.

You lean up into Joel’s face, letting him kiss you as you put your phone on the side. You push up into his mouth, opening your lips against him to taste his tongue when your phone vibrates on the side.

Just leaving town now sugar, great timing. See you soon.

You put a hand on Joel’s chest, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips, “Tommy’s almost here,” You say against his mouth, okay, now this is the last kiss as you press them back to his, “I’ll wait outside for them.” He smiles but his eyes are sad. You’ve spent long enough staring into them to know that look. You press one final kiss to his mouth now, “Remember I love you,” You insist, “And I’m gonna make this right.”

“I believe you,” He relents, squeezing your hand as you move around him to head to the front door, “And I love you too.”

“Mama!”

“Oh, my baby boy!” You exclaim, pulling Joshua out of his car seat and into your arms, holding him tight to your chest as his small arms try and wrap around your neck, “I missed you so much baby.”

As much as this trip had given you the opportunity to be a woman again, not just a mother, the way your son fits into your arms, the way he smells when you take a breath of his hair into your lungs and the way he nuzzles into your face make motherhood all worth it. You have never loved something as much as this boy in your arms. Not your husband, and not his brother, and that’s something you never thought would be true. Something you’d never thought you’d ever understand.

Tommy is rounding the front of the truck, slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans as you lean your face up, kissing him, “Missed you too, handsome,” You smile, pulling your attention back to Joshua, giving his cheek a kiss, “Have you and daddy had fun this week?”

“Yeah!” Joshua exclaims, wriggling about in your arms, he’s almost too big for you to hold like this anymore, “We played lots!”

“That sounds like fun,” You smile, turning back to Tommy, “We told Sarah you’d gone to town for supplies, so that,” You motion to his and Joshua’s overnight bags, “Will have to stay hidden until we can sneak them in.”

Joshua wriggles a bit more in your arms, “Uncle Joel!”

You turn slightly towards the lodge, where Joel is coming down the steps. He reaches out and claps his brother on the back in their usual greeting, before he reaches over and pinches Joshua’s cheek gently between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey bud,” He greets, “You’re getting so big!”

Joshua unwraps his arms from your neck and reaches out to Joel, flexing his fingers in the way he does when he wants something. Joel laughs, “Let me help your dad get everythin’ outta the car bud,” He smiles, “Then we’ll have a cuddle, okay?”

You smile at Tommy as Joel rounds to the back of the truck, opening the back door to reach in and grab some of the grocery bags, “Help your brother,” You smile at Tommy, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “I’ll take this little monster inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy speaks, a little two-finger salute added for effect.

It’s been a wonderful day. The sun has started to dip behind the trees, a cool breeze opening up a little. Sarah and Joel are still playing in the water with Joshua, their laughs mixed with his as they splash each other in the water. You’re sat on a towel by the shore, head leant against Tommy’s damp shoulder, his hand resting on your knee.

You’ve been in and out of the water all day, floating around with Sarah and Joshua, watching as Sarah plays with him on her own, sitting off to the side as Joel and Tommy sip beers and catch up. You smile the whole day, laugh for most of it too, but there’s always that fear that threatens to spill over when you think about what you have to do.

There are nerves bubbling in your tummy. You have to tell him. You have to speak to him. Looking out at the water, to where Joshua is perched on Joel’s shoulders and Sarah is splashing water at her dad, you know you have to tell him, but you’re still not quite sure how he’s going to react. You’ve run through this conversation so many times in your head over the last twenty-four hours, switching your opening sentence, developing your defence, but none of that comes out now, what comes out surprises even you.

“I love him.” Easiest to tear the band-aid straight off, you think.

Tommy barks a laugh next to you which surprises you. You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he’s smiling, “I know you do.”

“But I love you too.” You quickly add.

“I know that too,” He’s looking back at you now, clearly understanding the confusion on your face, “Why do you think I had no problem lettin’ you come here with him, huh?” He asks, squeezing the hand he’s got resting on your knee, “Or the way I’ve never complained about letting you go with him for his birthday?”

“Are you not mad?” You ask, biting at your bottom lip.

“No sugar, I’m not mad,” He leans down, kissing your cheek, “I love that man more than you will ever understand, he’s always had my back, always bailed me outta the shitty situations I’ve got myself into, never once thought about himself since that little girl was born,” He nods his head towards Sarah, “You make each other so happy, I ain’t ever seen Joel so happy since he started helpin’ us out, and I want nothing more than to keep makin’ him happy.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” You insist, your own hand resting on his thigh.

“I know you don’t, I don’t want you to leave either,” You can feel your eyes start to well with tears, “I’ve been sharin’ you for years baby, and I ain’t gonna stop because you two have finally admitted you love each other.”

“Finally?” You ask, using your free hand to wipe at your eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Baby, I’ve been watchin’ you fuck him for months, I know I’m slow sometimes, but I’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to see what you mean to each other.”

You maneuver yourself so you’re practically sat in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you cry into his shoulder a little. You wonder in this moment what it was that you did to deserve him, to deserve them both. Two men who love you unconditionally, who just want you to be the happiest you can be, and two brothers who just want to see the other happy too.

You pull back, clutching Tommy’s face in your hands, “So you don’t mind if I want to see him more often?” You ask timidly.

“Not at all, sugar,” He leans forward, kissing your lips, "That man has never once thought about himself, put himself first, not since Sarah came along, and it's about time he did something for himself, we've just gotta help him right?" He asks, to which you nod in response, “We’re lucky men to have you.”

“And I’m a lucky girl to have you both.”

Things had seemed so normal over dinner. Tommy had grilled an insane amount of meat that’d you’d all devoured. You’d drank beers together, Joshua had sat on Joel’s lap for most of the night, favouring his uncle over anyone else. It felt like it always did when you were all together as a family, Sarah feeding small bits of food to Joshua, Tommy’s hand on your knee under the table as you all talk about different things – how Sarah is getting on at college, how this time next year Joshua will have started school. You know they’re different now though, although Joel doesn’t. You wonder if he’d seen you speaking with Tommy earlier, if he did then he must know that things are okay, right? That there wasn’t an argument so it must be okay. You want to tell him, want to take his face in your hands and kiss him at the table so he knows everything is okay.

You’re propped up against the pillows of your bed now – those so familiar to you now after this week. Reading the book you’d been trying so hard to focus on this whole week and still finding you can’t quite concentrate on it. Tommy had put Joshua to bed a few hours ago, Sarah had gone to bed at the same time as you, leaving the brothers on their own to clean up and catch up. You wonder now what they might be talking about.

It's not long before you find out exactly what they’ve been talking about. There’s a soft knock at the door before it opens, revealing Tommy, who steps into the dimly lit room, closely followed by Joel, who closes the door behind him gently.

“Hello.” You greet, looking up from your book.

“Joel’s been tellin’ me what a good girl you’ve been for him all week,” Tommy speaks, “He’s given you a glowing report, sugar.”

Oh. So that’s what they’ve been talking about. You wonder if Tommy told him? Wonder whether he’s given his brother the permission he needed to have you like he wants. You close your book and set it on the nightstand, turning back to them.

“We’ve been trying really hard baby,” You speak, voice sweet, “Haven’t we Joel?” You look into that familiar face, “I’ve been so full all week trying real hard for this baby.”

Tommy walks slowly to your side of the bed, gripping your chin to tilt your face up to look at him whilst Joel watches on.

“You gonna show me what you’ve been gettin’ up to?” He asks softly, “Gonna let me fuck you?”

Tommy pulls back the duvet, letting his fingers gently trace down between the valley of your breasts, covered by your nightdress. He trails further down to the hem, letting his hand sneak under the material. You spread your legs for him slightly, keeping your eyes on his as his fingers slip between your folds finding you already wet for them both.

“Looks like the answer is yes,” He chuckles, dipping down to kiss you as he drags his slick fingers up to your clit to circle gently, “How about you give Joel your pretty mouth, baby?” He asks, “I’ve missed this pussy, I gotta be inside you.”

He takes his hand away from you, letting you shift so you’re on your hands and knees, nightdress pushed up to the small of your back, so you’re spread and on display for Tommy. You reach out a hand and motion with a finger for Joel to come to you, which he does, hands already moving to unzip his jeans. Joel lets them pool on the floor before he gets onto the bed in front of you, fist around the base of his already hard cock, guiding it to your mouth at the exact same time as Tommy nudges himself inside you, sliding in slowly until you’re full of him, Joel doing the exact same to your mouth, letting his cock slip across the length of your tongue until he hits the back of your throat.

He feels absolutely delicious inside of you, like he always has done for all these years, angling just perfectly inside you to brush against that spot that's been so stimulated this past week. Your moans are muffled, vibrating around Joel's cock as you take him down into your throat, saliva pooling around the edges of your mouth.

This, you think, is what you were made for. To have two men, two of the most beautiful men in the world, taking their pleasure from you, but giving you twice that in return.

Joel's hand grips your chin as he starts shallow thrusts into your mouth, you look up at him, your own eyes rimmed with tears, his blown out and dark from lust as he fucks your mouth, groaning in pleasure when you do.

"You're a lucky girl, ain't ya sugar?" Tommy husks from behind you, his skin slapping against yours, "Two men here to adore ya," He leans over and kisses at the skin covering your spine, "Always were meant to be the centre of attention."

Joel lets his cock slip from your mouth, looking down at you with one eyebrow cock, his hand around your jaw to get you to look at him, “He’s right, ain’t he, pretty girl?” He asks, running a thumb over you spit soaked bottom lip, “Love bein’ the centre of attention, don’t ya?” You nod, totally overwhelmed by the feeling of Tommy’s pace behind you, but Joel taps your cheek, “Words, pretty girl,” He chastises, “Use your big girl words.”

Tommy’s hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “Yes!” You gasp, realising you have to try and keep quiet, Sarah’s only just down the hall.

“Yes what?”

“I love it,” You whimper, looking up at him, “Love being the centre of attention.”

“Course ya do,” Tommy quips from behind you, “We love you bein’ the centre of attention too.”

Joel uses his fist to guide his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, resuming his short thrusts into your mouth as Tommy pounds into you from behind. The sounds in the room are obscene – there’s the sound of Tommy’s skin hitting your own, the sound of you almost gagging on Joel’s cock, and the mixture of grunts and groans that are pulled from their mouths as they use your body to make themselves feel good. You almost wish you could see yourself right now, speared at both ends of your body by these two men.

Joel trails his fingers as far down your arm as he can, and you think he’s asking for you to put your hand on his balls as you take him in your mouth, so you do, but he’s swatting it away, gripping your wrist as you look up at him again, tears falling down your face.

“Put it on your pussy,” He instructs, “Make yourself come for us.”

You snake your hand down, fingers circling your clit, slick as always. You start working in fast movements just as you feel Tommy’s thumb start to tease the tight ring of muscle of your ass. You whimper again around Joel’s cock as his hands gather your hair, using it to drag your mouth up and down him.

“You want it, sugar?” Tommy asks, pulling his thumb away before you hear him spit, the warmth spreading down your ass as his thumb works the wet into your skin there.

Joel, once again, pulls his cock from the wet heat of your mouth, motioning for you to talk, “Go on, pretty girl,” He coaxes, “Tell him you want it, we know you love it.”

“Please,” You breathe out a beg, pushing back lightly into his finger, “Please, Tommy.”

“Always sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it baby,” He chuckles behind you, “I’ll give it to ya, don’t worry.”

When his thumb pushes inside of you, as the same time as Joel feeds you his cock once more, it’s almost immediate, the way your orgasm slams into you. Stuffed full in every possible way, as Tommy’s thumb presses gently into your ass, as Joel’s cock hits the back of your throat over and over again and the way Tommy is pounding into that delicious spot inside you as always. The knot of pleasure snaps, Joel’s cock muffling your cries as your pussy clenches around Tommy, walls fluttering as you work your clit through the aftershocks, body convulsing almost violently.

“God damn it sugar,” Tommy groans behind you, “Gonna – fuck – m’gonna come baby, where?”

“Inside,” You moan, pulling off Joel’s cock, “Please, inside me baby.”

He gives you exactly what you want just seconds later, stilling behind you, with his cock buried as deep as he’ll go. He lets out that sound that you love, a high-pitched whine that’s similar to some of the sounds he and his brother draw from you as you feel him fill you up. He’s not giving you much time to recover, groaning lightly as he pulls out, stopping briefly to watch as his cum drips from your spent pussy.

You roll onto your back, fingers drifting down and inside of you, slowly pumping in and out as Joel comes into view. He stands at the side of your bed, pulls at your legs so the backs of your thighs are pressed against his chest, ankles by his face. He pulls your hand away from your pussy, pushing your fingers into your mouth as you clean Tommy’s cum off them.

“Go on brother,” Tommy encourages, settling himself on the bed behind you, “You’ve still got a job to do.”

“Ain’t no way she’s not full of my baby,” Joel growls as he sinks his cock into your pussy, your slick and the cum his brother’s just filled you with making it so easy for him to slide in all the way, “Is there, pretty girl?”

His hands are splayed over your stomach now as he pounds his cock into you, the squelch of your pussy filling the room, “Filled me up so good, Joel,” You moan, hands palming at your tits as your head turns to look at Tommy, “Been full of him all week baby.” You say in his direction.

The attention you’ve been giving Joel with your mouth means he’s already on the edge, “Sucked me so good, pretty girl,” He mumbles, “Gonna come for you.”

You’re gripping the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to you as he ruts himself as hard and fast into you as he can manage, “Please Joel,” You sob, feeling the head of his cock bruising at your cervix, “Give it to me, please.”

“Quit your crying,” He spits, “You know I’m gonna give it to you.”

And like clockwork he does. He groans out, low and loud as always, as you feel the hot spurts of his cum filling you up, mixing with what Tommy gave you just minutes ago. He slips out of you, watching as his cum mixed with his brother’s drips from your used cunt. He runs his fingers down the folds of your pussy, scooping up what’s left you, pushing it back in, because he’s got to be sure, got to be sure that he’s given you every drop of himself.

You expect the aftermath to be a little strange as you pull the hem of your nightdress back down. Tommy’s already half asleep on the bed, clothes haphazardly thrown back on as he shuffles himself under the sheets. You follow suit, watching as Joel puts him underwear back on.

Tommy has already wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you to his body, light breath fanning against the skin of your neck. You’re watching Joel as he straightens up.

“Hey,” You speak softly, grabbing his attention, you reach out a hand which he takes, “Stay.” You say simply, tapping the empty side of the bed, the side of the bed that had been his all week.

He smiles, squeezing your hand, and you think he might refuse, opting to take the final bedroom, but he doesn’t. He climbs onto the bed, far enough away that your bodies don’t touch, respecting the claim Tommy has staked by holding your body close to his, but keeps his hand in yours, as physical reminder that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. He leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your lips, before his other hand pushes your hair back from your face.

“Sleep, pretty girl,” He insists softly, “Tomorrow is a new day.”

And sleep you do – one Miller brother strong against your back, arm draped over your waist, other Miller brother led facing you, chocolate brown eyes watching you as you drift off to sleep, your hand clutched in his to anchor you to him just as much as you’re anchored to his brother. As your eyes close and you drift off, you realise you’re exactly where you want to be, held by both the men you love, and that’s absolutely enough for you right now.

635 notes · View notes

hotvintagepoll · 8 months

Text

Propaganda

Michael Redgrave (The Lady Vanishes)—my beautiful bisexual hot linguist geek dandy nerd. I'm specifically nominating him for "The Lady Vanishes," but how can you not love him in this—it's a strikingly modern performance, not a whiff of old school macho masculinity; he starts the movie as a bit of a cad, thoughtless and self-absorbed, but the second our heroine's in trouble he's attentive, he's helpful, he's running around speaking languages and helping her with international spycraft shenanigans and just being so funny and warm and JOYOUS. (and again. he is SO bisexual. see the picture [attached below]). he's hot in the debate club twink kinda way and i've never wanted to smooch an idiot more

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it.

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Michael Redgrave propaganda:

"BISEXUAL."

"It feels unjust to submit the entirety of The Lady Vanishes as propaganda, so I'd just like to very politely point everyone to 56:30 of this link, where we get a very nice view of Michael Redgrave's ass I MEAN his lilting, fine-tuned twinkish beauty"

Cary Grant propaganda:

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

#cary grant #michael redgrave #fuck that old man #hotvintagepoll #round 3 #polls that pick me up and fling me out the window

337 notes · View notes

keikikait · 8 months

Text

ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ (ʙɪᴋᴇʀ!ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

for my other megumi fic, click here (warning - smut!)

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 2k

summary: you love your new apartment, as small as it is. it's in the perfect place, right next to the train station, and is cheap as hell. the only downside? your neighbour, who revs his bike outside your window every morning.

warnings: NO SMUT!, no angst!, multi part series, kind of enemies to lovers, slowburn?, megumi is kinda rude lmaoooo, the girls are fighting!, he says sweetheart twice, reader is kinda down bad lmao

a note: sorry for the delay, i've been busy with work! also, 8 square metres is about 86 square feet :).

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

The rent was cheap. Suspiciously cheap.

You should’ve been wary, but you didn’t have many options. After a bitter fallout with your roommate, you needed to move out quickly. You should’ve paid more attention to the listing, you realise, as you stop in front of the building and it sinks in that your new digs weren’t 18 square metres.

It was eight square metres.

Thankfully, you didn’t have much furniture with you, needing to sell it all to afford the move. Your apartment was essentially one long, two-story hallway, just enough for your desk chair and TV.

You get settled in quickly, trying to liven up the place by replanting your herb garden outside on your small porch. The apartment doors faced an alley, and on the other side of the alley was another apartment building. You didn’t know how much sunlight your basil would get, but that’s a problem for future you.

A problem for the current you, however, was your neighbour's motorcycle. The bike is an exact replica of the legendary Honda Super Cub that was used in the original anime Akira, and as pretty as it is, that shit is loud. His apartment is right on the edge by the sidewalk, meaning the only place he can park it is right in front of your window.

You’ve tried everything. Earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Ear plugs under your noise-cancelling headphones. Sleeping with a white noise machine. Nothing works. You only moved in a month ago but you’re already sick of this mysterious man and his bike. You don’t run into each other often, catching glimpses of him as he drives off in the morning and comes home at night. You didn’t want to be that neighbour, the one that complains about every single little thing, but it was driving you mad. He revs his bike so loudly and for so long, that you’re starting to think he’s doing it on purpose.

You wake up that fateful morning and decide you’ve had enough. You wait for him to return home, hyping yourself up in the mirror before heading outside to confront him. You idle nervously in front of his front door for a few seconds before knocking.

He answers, looking exhausted, his hair a mess from his helmet. “Yeah?” You have to admit, he’s pretty cute. Tall and lean, with bicep muscles that strain against the fabric of his black t-shirt. And you swear you can see some eyeliner smudged on his water line.

You smile, trying to come across as calm and casual, slightly flustered by how attractive he is. “Hey. I’m your new next-door neighbour,” You gesture with your thumb. “I don’t wanna be that person, but would it be possible for you to not rev your engine so loud in the morning? It’s just…it’s right by my window, and it’s really loud.”

He lets out a sigh of frustration, not exactly in the mood for what you're throwing at him. It was already 9 pm on the third day in a row that he had worked the late shift, and this was not something he needed right now. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Look, I'm not doing it on purpose. I park where I park, nothing is going to change that. You just moved in, this is how it's been and how it's always going to be.”

You blink, a little taken aback by how rude he was being. “I understand that, but surely I'm not the only person in the building who gets inconvenienced by your bike.”

He crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. The last thing he wants to do after a long shift is argue with someone about something as insignificant as noise. “Look, if you don't like it, then move out. I don't see anybody else complaining. You're the only one.”

You clench your jaw. You had some experience with bikes, your ex-boyfriend being a mechanic. You knew it was possible to make the revving quieter, it just seems like he didn’t care. “Can’t you just buy a muffler silencer?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh, one that doesn't hold a single trace of humor. “A muffler silencer? For a Super Cub? Are you serious? That would be like asking a Ferrari to be quiet.”

“You can’t expect everyone to just be okay with how loud your bike is, man.” You say. “I’m sure it inconveniences everyone in the building, but no one wants to be the person that confronts you.”

He seems to be holding back from saying what he wants to say, taking a shallow breath. “Look. It's my bike. I can do whatever I want with it. No one else is bothered, so why should you be any different? Why do you care so much?”

“You’re not the only person who works early mornings.” You say. “You aren’t the only person in the world, you know.”

That strikes a nerve, clearly, but he still doesn't seem interested in hearing what you're saying. He just rolls his eyes, looking away at his bike for a moment before looking back at you. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in case you haven't realised, you're not that important.”

“Neither are you.” You say impulsively. It was mean, and you didn’t like being mean, but he wasn’t giving you any other option.

He glares at you, his expression darkening. It's only for a moment, but you can see there is actual vitriol in his eyes. “Look, I'm going to make this simple for you. If you don't like the noise, then move out. That bike is not going anywhere. It has more meaning to me than you'll ever understand.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Akira meant so much to you as a kid,” You say sarcastically. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing this, man. Buy a muffler silencer.”

He laughs, but there's a slight tinge of bitterness to it. “Oh, so it's just a cartoon to you? It’s not an influential masterpiece that changed motorcycle and animation culture forever? Okay, great. Good to know.” He is starting to get worked up, but then he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. “Look, like I said, I am not doing anything to this bike. Not the mufflers, nothing.”

“Then park it somewhere else.” You snap. “Keep it away from my window. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

There's a flash of annoyance on his face. “There's no place to park it away from your window unless I block the sidewalk, which I guarantee you would cause more inconvenience. You're just going to have to deal with it.”

“Are you always this rude and stuck up?” The question stumbles out of your mouth before your mind can process it.

His temper flares up. He takes a step towards you, putting his hands on his hips as he glares at you. “Are you always this entitled and self-absorbed?”

You take a step back. You hate to admit it, but the way he towers over you is arousing. His cologne fills your nostrils and you find yourself getting lightheaded. It was slightly spicy, with a hint of vanilla and coffee.

You ground yourself, swallowing hard. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want us to come to a reasonable compromise.”

He glares at you, his eyes boring into you as you step back. You can feel the heat on your skin as if every drop of sweat in his body has been activated by the situation. His cologne is overwhelming you, filling your whole body. “There is no compromise to make here. You don't like the noise, tough. You're just going to have to get used to it or move out. That's it.”

Your eye twitches. “You’re such an asshole.” At this point, you didn’t feel bad being mean to him. He kind of deserved it.

He laughs, seeming almost amused by your temper. “You're one to talk. You come barging up to my apartment, demanding I make changes to my bike, and then you get mad at me when I tell you not to waste your time. Look in the mirror, sweetheart, and then come back with the right to tell me I'm an asshole.”

Fuck. You shouldn’t like the way he says sweetheart, but it causes your throat to dry up. “I tried to be nice to you,” You say. “You’re the one that got defensive and rude.”

“Nice? Maybe in your little dreamland that's what you think you were doing. Maybe you even believe that you were just being friendly and reasonable, I don't know. But in reality, all you were doing was pissing me off and acting like some sort of entitled princess.” He takes a step closer to you, his finger pointed in your face. “But one thing is certain. I’m not changing anything about my bike just to make you happy.”

He’s so close to you that it makes your head spin. You step back again, leaning against the railing surrounding his small porch. “Look, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame me for being upset.”

He doesn't seem interested in letting you off the hook yet, not when he looks so close to snapping. “It doesn't matter if you're upset or not. You don't get what you want by coming here and giving me an attitude like a fucking brat.”

You swallow hard. Fuck. You shouldn’t be attracted to this man, he was rude as hell and didn’t seem to care that he was inconveniencing not only you but everyone in the building. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was so pretty, and he smelled so good, and his voice was so nice. You were going to have to change your panties when you got back home.

You stand up straight, trying to stay headstrong. “You’re being incredibly rude about this.”

“And you're being incredibly entitled. There's only one of us that needs to change here, and it's not me.” He narrows his eyes, his gaze still burning into you.

You lick your lips. “Look, we’re not going to get anywhere by arguing.”

He gives another one of those short, sharp laughs. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip. “You finally said something smart. I didn’t know it was so difficult for you. Now, are you ready to accept that you're not going to get what you want, or do you want to keep wasting my time?”

Your eyes narrow. What the fuck? “Excuse me? Did you just call me dumb?”

A smirk spreads across his lips. “You heard me. Or did you need me to repeat it for you?”

You let out a sharp laugh, moving off of his porch. “You know what? Fuck you.”

He raises his eyebrow, a faint smile on his lips. “Oh, so you've switched from demanding to insults? Real mature, aren't you?”

You head over to your apartment, laughing again. “I should’ve known trying to reason with you would be impossible.”

He calls after you. “You're damn right it's impossible. You come here, make some demands, and then get mad when I tell you no. You're a spoiled brat who always gets her way, aren't you? Well, today's a bad day for you, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.” You say, holding the door to your apartment open. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” He says, smirking slightly. “I’m not into brats like you. I think you need to be taken down a few pegs. You need someone to put you in your place.”

You scoff and flip him off before slamming the door behind you, and just like that, you have given up.

He leans against his door, crossing his arms and smiling as he watches you leave, his eyes on your ass. He’s just a tiny bit disappointed that you gave up so quickly. He's got to admit, it was pretty fun messing with you, watching how angry you get. He thought you looked cute like that, your cheeks all red and flustered.

Maybe next time…

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

dedicated to the lovely @whereflowerswenttodie

#keikiwrites #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #biker!megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk megumi #enemies to lovers #slow burn #neighbors to lovers #✿: megumi!#f!reader

312 notes · View notes

winterrrnight · 6 months

Text

heartless

PAIRING: rafe cameron x dark!fem!pogue!reader

SUMMARY: rafe finds out you've been dating him only for the money.

WARNINGS: dark content! dark!reader, naive!rafe, reader is a liar, a manipulator, dishonest, two faced, takes a big advantage of rafe, usage of guns, threatening, poor rafe is oblivious to it all (he's just blinded by one sided love), minimal swearing, minimal usage of nicknames, alcohol consumption, reader lowkey believes in toxic masculinity, rafe is kinda a crybaby, it's also longer than my usual stuff + please let me know if I missed something!

EDITH SPEAKS: my second ever dark!fic! just like before, dark!content is something I've just gotten into, so this clearly isn't the best dark stuff you've read, but I promise I put in a 100% effort. please please heed all the warnings and make sure you proceed only if you are comfortable with each and every single one of them! if you liked reading this, please reblog and please please let me know what you think of this! 🌩️

navigation || join my taglist || requests

somewhere far along this road he lost his soul to a woman so heartless

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You enter Tannyhill, a huge smile on your face as your fingers remain hooked through the expensive branded gift bags, the black credit card of your near and dear boyfriend in the back pocket of your pants.

“Baby I’m home!” You say out loud as you enter, keeping the humongous amount of gift bags in your hand on the couch of the living room. You hear footsteps echo as they transcend down the stairs, and you turn around to see Rafe making his way to you.

“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips. “What did you get?”

You gesture your head to the couch and Rafe sees the enormous amount of bags on the couch. He knows you like to shop, and he never refuses to buy you anything because he believes you deserve it so much; never ever denying you when you approach him with a puppy dog look on your face asking for a shopping trip, which basically melts him into a puddle.

He always accompanies you to your shopping trips, his arm slinging around your shoulders as you both hit store after store in the mall, buying whatever you ask for, and he doesn’t think twice before swiping his card in the machine. He knows you haven’t lived in the best financial conditions as you grew up; that’s what it meant if you lived on The Cut. When you got together, he was more than determined to always give you gifts, his way of covering up all the things he believed you deserved to have but never had a chance to own.

But today, you suddenly had a need to hit the mall again when you had been there not even a week ago, and you had already bought a lot. But Rafe isn’t one to say no to you; how can he say no to your cute face? So you are sent off with a driver with his credit card given safely to you as he himself is busy with some business work.

And right now, here you are with the biggest number of handbags he’s ever seen you with. His eyebrows furrow in the slightest as he looks at how the couch is completely covered with the gift bags from exorbitant stores; the bags themselves cost a lot on their own.

“What happened baby?” You ask as you see him eyeing the couch. He turns to you and lets a smile spread on his face as he gives a peck to your forehead.

“Nothin’ baby,” he says softly. “Did you have fun at your little shopping spree?” Little? Hell nah.

“Yes it was absolutely wonderful,” you smile.

“Good good,” he mutters, smiling a little.

“Oh I’ve got brunch date at the country club with my girls today,” you say, pulling away from him, his arms now falling back to his sides. “Are you done with your work?”

“No,” he sighs. “I have to head to the office in a bit,”

“Oh,” you sigh, a pout on your face. “Such a shame… ’cause I was wondering you could come too,”

He smiles softly, gently moving to caress your cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay baby, you have fun with your girlfriends yeah? You and me can go some other time,”

You just nod at his reply and tell him how you absolutely can’t go to the country club in the same outfit you wore in the mall, and you need to have a wardrobe change. He watches you make your way to the couch and pick two out of the numerous handbags and make your way up the stairs. As you walk, he can see his credit card peeking out of your back pocket. He opens his mouth to ask for it, but then shuts it back realizing you’ll need it at your brunch with the girls.

He just lets out a small sigh before busying himself with more of his work for the business.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe rubs his eyes as he leans his head back against the cushioned back of his chair, letting out a groan of complete exhaustion. His eyes flick to the digital clock sitting on his table, the numbers 12.53 am flashing back at him. He blinks his eyes multiple times before focusing back to his laptop screen, left with just the end of the work.

As he gets himself back into the working mindset, a little notification pops at the right bottom corner of his screen. Narrowing his eyes, he reads the notification.

As his eyes run over the words, they widen more and more with each passing second.

Your credit card has been declined. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to process your payment.

Right before his eyes, the same notification appears two times more, flashing momentarily at the corner before it disappears itself.

It disappears itself from the screen, but not from his mind. The little notification with its white background and dark blue text remains ingrained in his brain, and it’s as if that’s the only image he’s only ever known.

He quickly gets his phone and opens up the texts between you and him, the last one being him asking you if you’ve reached the country club safely and you replying back with a simple ‘yes’. He hasn’t had any time to go back home as he’s been stuck in his office since the afternoon.

All you said was you were going to have brunch with your girls, so that’s when the credit card should’ve been used. But why is he getting notifications about his card being declined at 1 in the morning?

The notifications are quiet shady, because they don’t reveal where the transaction is being made and is failing, it just tells him the credit card is declined.

He logs into the credit card company’s portal on his laptop, and looks around to find what balance is left in his card. And there he sees it.

The balance is negative.

And not any small number, a big one at that.

-$1000 is written on his screen in a bright, red font, that number being the only thing that can attract his attention throughout the entire mundane black webpage.

Rafe stares at the screen in disbelief – clearly you’re out there somewhere with his card and you’ve overpaid, and now transactions aren’t taking place.

Despite having a little too much money in his card, he never expected for you to ever overpay. He knew it was a huge privilege for you to have so much of something you never before had in your life, but he never expected you to be reckless…

He shakes his head, getting the thought out of his head. No, it’s just some kind of mistake, he thinks, and as if right on cue, his phone rings. He sees that it’s in fact you calling him. He quickly swipes his thumb across the screen, accepting the call.

“Rafeeee,” you whine on the other side, and Rafe realizes you’re drunk out of your mind.

“Baby, where are you?” He asks, his brows furrowed as he anticipates your reply.

“Your card isn’t working anymore,” you slur. “Come on, I just needed some stuff!”

“Where are you?” He asks again, more sternly this time.

“I’m out… are you not listening to me? Your goddamned card isn’t working!”

“Yeah ’cause you used the last of the money in it!” He snaps. “I’m asking you again: where are you?”

“Fuck you!” He hears you slur out loud, and the next second, all he hears is the monotonous beeping, meaning you’ve cut the call.

Rafe sighs, slamming his phone on his table as he holds his hair in his hands, his fingers scrunching around his hair strands as he pulls onto them, hard enough to cause blinding pain in his scalp, feeling as if he’ll just rip his hair out. He slams his laptop shut and gets up from his office chair, deciding to retreat to home for now.

You aren’t telling him where you are, and he most certainly isn’t going to go around looking for you.

The best he can do right now is sleep, and worry about the negative balance in his card the next morning.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe’s eyes snap open when he feels something cool being pressed into his forehead. It takes him a second but he makes out your outline in the dark room, blinking a few times to adjust to the bare amount of light in the room.

“Rafe…” your cold voice cuts through the darkness of the room.

It’s dead silent, and Rafe’s ears can only process his own deep breathing. Not yours – it feels like you aren’t breathing, you’re just standing silently.

A breeze blows outside, causing the flimsy curtains hanging in front of his window to fly to the side for the moment, letting the white moonlight to leak in through the room.

And he sees it.

He catches the cold look in your eyes, as if they’re dead, not a single emotion swirling in the depths of them. His breath gets caught in his throat, and he slowly turns his head up to find the cause of the cold feeling on his forehead.

A sharp click is heard, and the pressure against his forehead is increased, causing him to let out a shaky breath.

“Now you know I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger,” your voice is cool, emotionless, and monotone. You push the muzzle of the gun more against his forehead. “Tell me where the money is, and I’ll let you go unharmed.”

“What money?” Rafe croaks out, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

A moment passes.

Another moment passes.

All Rafe hears is the rhythmic, yet fast thumping of his heart deep against his eardrums.

“I know the credit card wasn’t the only money you have,” you say. Your voice is so calm, it terrifies the smallest, thinnest nerve in his body. “I know you’ve got money – cash somewhere in here. I used to keep my eye on it. You moved it, didn’t you? It’s not in its usual location.”

Rafe’s eyes widen as he turns his head to his left just slightly and sees the doors of his wardrobe opened, drawers pulled out they’re threatening to fall out, and all his clothes are messed up, unorganized as if someone went through them frantically to find something.

He slowly turns his head back to you, realizing you always knew about the cash he keeps hidden behind his clothes in the wardrobe for all sorts of emergencies.

“I don’t have it,” he mumbles, his eyes widening, and you can clearly see the fear swirling around in his baby blues.

“Liar,” you snap, pushing the muzzle of the gun even harder into his forehead, which causes him to let out a wince. “Now’s not the time to fuck around a’ight? Tell me where it is, and I’ll let you go-”

“No,” he says silently, cutting you off. He’s trying his best to not be afraid of you, to not let it show. But, his shallow, erratic breaths leaving his rubied lips show something entirely different.

Right in the next second, you take the gun away from his forehead and direct it to your right, pulling the trigger with ease as a loud bang echoes throughout Tannyhill. Rafe flinches at the sudden sound which causes ringing in his ear, his eyes shut closed as a reflex. The sound of glass cracking and bursting echoes as an aftermath. He slowly opens his eyes and looks to his left, and sees the lamp on the bedside table absolutely shattered to pieces.

You now place the gun directly on his throat, digging it into his skin harshly. You push his face up with the gun, forcing him to make eye contact with you, which causes his hair to fall in his eyes. Through the hair in his eyes, he catches the glimpse of the crazed, wide eyed look you have.

It gets dead silent, and Rafe can still hear the bang of the gun and the breaking of the glass in the back of his head. You slowly pull the trigger, but not completely, and Rafe’s breath hitches in his throat as he hears the silent creak of the trigger being pulled.

“One last time…” you whisper, your voice having an eerie touch to it. “Where’s the fucking money?”

You notice the glassy layer of tears forming in his eyes, and you groan, throwing your head back.

“Stop being such a crybaby and man up!” You yell. “Just tell me where the goddamned money is!”

Rafe’s lips part slightly, and he raises a shaky hand, pointing to something behind you. You turn around to see he’s pointing to a safe kept safely away in a corner.

You let out an exhale as you turn your attention back to Rafe, the gun still digging into his skin. “What’s the pass?”

“4-” he starts to speak but his words get caught in his throat. “4, 3, 1, 7, 9, 5,” he mumbles out, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels the gun digging in his skin starting to form a bruise.

You look at him for a moment, and then slowly take the gun off his neck. He lets out a shaky breath and moves his fingers to the skin, and as predicted, he can feel an indent in his skin.

“Good boy,” you mutter as you walk to the safe and put in the combination. As you put it in, the safe opens and voila, there are stacks and stacks of dollar bills kept safely inside. You take them out and put it in the bag you had with you, making your way to the door.

“Rafe?” You say as you turn to look at him, and he notices your ‘sweet’ tone coming back in. “I hope you remember it’s our 1 year anniversary tomorrow, yeah? I’ve been eyeing this diamond necklace for ages. We’ll go to the jewelry store alright? And we’ll throw a party, at My Druthers of course. I need a new dress for that so we’ll shop for that too. I’ll see you tomorrow morning baby,” you smile as you open the door and leave, not giving Rafe even a moment to speak before the door is slammed shut with full force.

Rafe sits still for a moment, tears running down his cheeks silently as the past moments settle in him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for what just happened.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“Yeah, I have the beach cleanup to attend tomorrow, and the soup kitchen volunteering is throughout the week, along with atleast three hours of working at The Wreck everyday, and the biweekly cleaning of the boats for Mr. Smith,” he hears you go on and on about your jobs to your friend JJ. “And then maybe we’ll have enough to pool it in and get ourselves some of that fancy champagne for your birthday J,”

He hears you sigh, taking a sip of your drink as you rest your back against the wall. “You know cheap beer will do it too right? We don’t have to go all out for the alcohol,” JJ tells you.

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes at him. “It’s your 18th birthday! We are getting nice, expensive champagne for it, whether you like or not. Listen, I will have enough to buy it okay? There’s no way we aren’t having that on your birthday. We’ll be like Kooks for that day, with our champagne in those long ass glasses,” you giggle and JJ laughs with you too, nodding his head.

“That’s tempting you know? The part of wanting to feel like the Kooks,” he says.

“It sure is, and you deserve it alright? So I’ll make it happen for you,” you smile at him. You take the last sip of your drink and peer into the now empty cup. “I’ll be back alright?” You say, walking away from JJ.

Rafe watches you make your way to the bar, and decides to give you a follow. As you sit at a barstool, he sits at the one next to you, catching your eye.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the kook prince,” you smile smugly at him. He can’t help but smile back at you.

“In his full glory,” he says, his smile showing off his teeth.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, kook prince?” You ask. Rafe sees a certain glint in your eye; one that he is almost certain is of the same interest he is looking at you with.

“Let me buy you your drink, that’s all,” he says. He sees your eyebrows furrow, but they relax the next second and you nod.

“Okay…” you say, “but what’s the catch?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No catch, saw your pretty face, and I just wanted to do something nice for you,”

He sees you say nothing, just a smile on your face as you receive your ordered drink and he tells the bartender to put it on his tab. You get up from the barstool with your drink firm in your hand.

“Will I see you around, kook prince?” You ask.

Rafe’s lips are tugged in a soft smile at your words.

“You sure will,”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

That’s all he ever wanted.

He liked you, heck – he fell in love with you, and all he ever wanted was to relieve the pain of financial troubles off your shoulders. He always thought he had a lot of money – too much if he insists, and if it means it’ll help someone and provide them some financial stability, especially when that someone is the person he’s so deeply attracted to, he doesn’t mind, at all.

But what he didn’t catch is that you never loved him back the way he did. He loved to shower you with gifts and whatever your heart desired because he wanted to be there for you.

But did he ever expect you to get so up in your head that you’ll forget all about him and just see him as someone who can give you as much money as you’ll ever need?

Absolutely not.

The wind howls outside the open window, the safe is opened and every single note in it is taken away by you, his wardrobe is opened and clothes are spilling out from it, and he’s sitting, staring at the wall, his fingertips gently grazing over the indent on his neck as tears spill down his eyes.

He’s stuck, and you’ve made it really clear that he can’t back out of this.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @shores-kayla @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @oceandriveab @valeskafics @diqldrunks @ladyinbl00d

176 notes · View notes

my-rose-tinted-glasses · 2 months

Text

There is so much airing right now. It's insane. July is already crazy but with more coming in August I'll probably do a shorter version of this mid august to kinda keep all the shows straight in my head. And I know we still have a couple of days left this month but I wanted to do this to close the weekend. Also because I'm watching a lot this is gonna be long. And also. Spoilers and opinions below, read at your own risk.

QL - Currently Watching

🇹🇭 4 Minutes [1/8] - Living for the visuals in this show. Just like with DFF, I feel the framing is very intentional. Only one episode so, for now, I'm very intrigued by the premise and the characters and will be looking forward to the meta that will no doubt be a big part of watching this show for me, as with dff. Also, is it just me or is Jes just ridiculously handsome?

🇯🇵 Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko! [4/8] - I love it here. I'm having such a good time with this show. Hiroko is the master of selective perception even when Ayaka is trying so hard to make her see. I'm looking forward to see what happens next. Also we had a small moment of running to the beloved!!!

🇹🇭 Century of Love [5/10] - Did not see this coming. After The Trainee this is the thai bl I look forward to the most weekly. Daou is doing excellent work, even as he's softening because he's in looooove, I can still see the demeanour of the 100 years old man. Love reading all the theories after the last episode. I'm on team Vee is Vad, and the girl is an imposter with sinister intent.

🇯🇵 I Hear the Sunspot [5/12] - It's excellent. I love Taichi, he doesn't always understand Kohei, or himself, but he will stay by his side regardless. That moment in the stairs was probably my favourite so far. I'm expecting this show to break my heart again.

🇹🇭 I Saw You In My Dream [2/12] - It's cute. I like the premise but I've been burned by Thailand when they venture a bit into high concept so we'll see. I like the characters and the actors so far. At least there seems to be communication between the leads which for me is already a win.

🇹🇭 Knock Knock, Boys! [10/12] - Latte and Almond are great in their boyfriend era. They seem comfortable with each other without being way too cutesy which honestly would feel kinda weird for them, especially Latte. Poor Thanwa though. Look I feel for Peak. He lost his mum and so not wanting to disappoint the remaining parent is completely understandable but damn, I wish he got some nerve and spoke for himself. I really hope the boys visit will give him the support he needs to finally do what he needs to do.

🇹🇭🇨🇳 Meet You At the Blossom [6/12] - I'm watching because it's kinda historic but I'm not enjoying it as much as other people so I'll just say there are some funny bits and some cute moments.

🇯🇵 Mitsuya Sensei no Keikakutekina Ezuke [1/10] - Oh Japan how you spoil me. Chaotic boy✔ Older openly queer man✔ Food✔ Dog✔. I'm in jbl heaven.

🇹🇭Love Sea [8/12] - I'm watching.

🇹🇭My Love Mix-Up! [7/12] -I'm stopping the weekly viewing of this one and probably binge it when it's over. I probably shouldn't but I know myself and my curiosity will win in the end. I've said a couple of things what bugged me about this show and this thread started by @twig-tea and all the reblogs [@bengiyo @hallowpen @silviakundera @doublel27] are an excellent read and the reason this last episode finally made me drop my weekly viewing. It was bad before but now it makes me too angry and there's a lot airing atm, so I'm choosing joy.

🇹🇭 SunsetxVibes [6/12] - It's just fun for the most part. I'm honestly trying not to think too hard about this one because there are some things that just make no sense. Also I keep getting confused by the time on this show. The editing is weird. But like I said, I'm trying not to think about it and just enjoy the ridiculousness. Definitely more into the side couple's dynamic.

🇯🇵 Takara No Vidro [4/11] - What an excellent time it is for jqls. I'm fascinated by Takara and desperately need to know more about him and it seems I'm gonna get my wish next episode. Maybe it's the hole Hayama left in me, but for some reason I find some similarities between them. Something about people liking them on a surface level, and isolating themselves and encountering someone who sees them in a different way and being drawn to that. I also like how the show is using the episode storylines. The creep episode was interesting given that Taishin was called a creep early on, for following Takara to uni, so the contrast worked well in establishing that Taishin motivations are completely different. And then the stan episode was really interesting not only in reinforcing the idea that Taishin was really sheltered growing up but also he's so lost and confused so he's just looking for clues as to what he's feeling for Takara. 🇹🇭 This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans [4/8] . I'm watching for the sides.

🇹🇭 The Rebound [10/12] - I guess the crazy ended with a bang, or several, and now we're back to our regularly scheduled programming with a very average high school bl. Also, can we stop having sick grandmas drive the narrative?

🇹🇭 The Trainee [3/10] - I love everything about it. First of all, Jane. Look, I've loved Off since my first OffGun show, which was Theory of Love, and every character since then has only increased my devotion. Him and Mix had me weekly watching a show (The Jungle) that in normal circumstances I wouldn't waste a day one let alone 16 whole episodes. I have a problem. And I thought Ten was the ceiling honestly but Jane is just another level. Not only is he, oh so pretty in this, but his character is just perfection. He's tough but reasonably so, will give credit where it's due, notices the people around him and will apologize if he's in the wrong. And yes, that hand gesture have me fanning myself. Ryan has no business being in that company honestly, but I'm a sucker for an underdog that tries and improves and is genuinely a good human for the people around him. Oh and also, this show is funny. I'm having a great time and I'm always excited for the next episode. Please be... nope, I won't go there. It's great.

QL - Finished

🇯🇵A Man Who Defies the World of BL 3 - First of all massive thanks to @ikeoji-subs for making it possible to finally watch this season. I think this is my favourite season so far. I love Mob's and Hatano storyline and would very much like a fourth season to see what happens next. @emotionallychargedtowel wrote here and here some of the reasons why this character is so different from all the ones we've seen so far and I also speculated in the tags about how he could connect to the mangaka and that's why he can hear some of Mob's thoughts and see him breaking the fourth wall. Either way there's not enough information. I need more. I definitely think Mob is struggling more to keep his secondary characters status this season. I adore Ayato and Toujou. So many couples and so many tropes, I was in heaven. I still need to rewatch all of it.

🇯🇵Ossan no Pants ga Nandatte Ii Janai ka! - Fansubbers are angels and deserve the world, so once again, massive thanks to @isaksbestpillow for allowing me the privilege to watch this show. And what a privilege it was. I'm gonna miss this family so much. The kindness and empathy of these characters will stay with me for a long time. I wish everyone would watch this show and I can't really find the words to talk about this show but this post by @lurkingshan explains way better than I ever could all the reasons this show is an incredible watch, as does this spoiler free pitch by @twig-tea. So do yourself a favor and go watch it. 🇹🇭 Wandee Goodday - I love Cher and Oyei.

🇹🇭 We Are - Final thoughts here.

Rose Watches OJBL

Nothing to report this month. The obvious reason being the absolutely insane number of shows in the currently watching list.

Others - Watched

BL Metamorphosis (2022) Kashimashi Meshi (2023) Second Chance (2021)

As usual my ask box is open for questions or requests. Have a wonderful week💜

98 notes · View notes

imyourbratzdoll · 2 years

Note

Hi theree!! I've been lately obsessed with Soft mean! Lloyd Hansen😭 what do you think of lloyd being attracted to reader who is a supermarket cashier?!?

I find it VERY CUTE that maybe he ask her what plans or what she would like to have in a date, and she simply says that as long as there is macaroni and cheese and he is next to her everything would be perfect🥺 (just imagine how lloyd would react to such an innocent request 😭💗) ofc she is kinda naive but obviously he's Lloyd hansen and that's already a red flag, ps: if you don't like macaroni and cheese you can choose something else! lol. Feel free to write it if you like the idea🙏🤍

hi! I'm sorry this took so long and is so short, but I hope you like it!

summary - lloyd's been interested in you ever since he saw you, today, he sneakily found a way to ask you out.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You smiled up at the man who was a regular. “Hi, Mr Hansen! Back again, I see!” Your eyes wide, scanning the products. “How was your day?”

Lloyd smirks, his eyes dragging down your body, loving how your uniform hugs your figure. “It’s been good, baby girl. But, it’s better now that I’ve seen you.” He feels his ego grow more prominent as you blush, your cheeks turning a rosy pink at his words. “I forgot to ask you. What is your idea of your perfect date?” Lloyd stuffs his hands into his expensive pant pockets, smiling softly as your eyes connect.

“Uh… Well, I’ve always thought that everything would be perfect as long as there was macaroni and cheese, a good movie, and you beside me.” You quickly look down, not wanting to see his reaction to the words that slip from your mouth. Packing his items into a bag as you finish scanning them, you can feel the silence, causing you to look up.

Lloyd’s staring down at you with a large grin, feeling his heart nearly exploding out of his chest at your response. “Really? If I were with you, everything would be perfect?” You nod, causing Lloyd to quickly lean forward and place a soft kiss on your cheek. “How about I make that come true? Say, I’ll pick you up after your shift, and we can enjoy some food and a good movie?”

Your eyes sparkle as your smiles becomes more prominent, and your head moves up and down rapidly. “I’d love that, Mr Hansen!”

“Call me Lloyd, baby girl.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

1K notes · View notes

skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

Nasty

Minho x Thick female reader

Word count: 3.4k

Synopsis: Clubbing with your friends you find yourself in an all too common situation, Minho up against you on the dance floor wanting you to do one thing and one thing only... get nasty.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! This was inspired by the song Nasty by Russ. Its... well... it's on par with what I've been writing lately that's for sure 😅 I hope you enjoy and if you do please reblog, like, comment, visit my asks, what ever! Your feedback is my fuel! As per usual warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Cursing/strong language, FWB, slight exhibitionism (kinda, MC comes riding Minho's thigh on the dance floor no one knows), oral (m receiving), deep throating (a little), cum eating, biting/marking, praise, pet names (beautiful, jagiya etc.), degradation (Minho calls MC a slut, whore, his hole, cock slut etc), jealous/possessive Minho, spanking (hand), Minho dom/MC sub, orgasm denial, biting/marking, unprotected piv sex (use condoms please), cream pie, rough sex, Minho has a breeding kink, mentions of breasts full of milk, mentions of tit fucking, mentions of a cum shot, MC tears up after sex. I think that's everything but if I missed something please let me know and I'll add it asap!

It was the weekend and you and your best friends were doing what most every person your age did on the weekends, you were drinking and dancing in the club. It was always so much fun because your entourage was eight handsome, strong men. You wore skimpy dresses even with your thick body and you could drink and dance and not have to worry about any creeps rubbing up on you or asking to buy you a drink. It wasn’t what you were there for and if you wanted to fuck someone, you would.

You stuck to trading off dancing with the guys, sometimes one sat out for a breather or another left for a dark corner with a pretty girl and what happened most of the time when you went dancing at the club was you ending up with Minho grinding against you once everyone else had been occupied. This night was no different. The other seven men were making out or rubbing against someone and Minho was behind you rolling his hips against your plump ass, his hard on pressed against you unmistakable, his grip firm on your wide hips as he breathed into your neck. You giggled and scrunched up your neck and looked around to see if any of the guys saw you.

“Minhooo...” You said shyly and he cooed in your ear.

“What’s wrong pretty? We’re just dancing... we’re just friends...” You took a deep breath in as the breath on your neck turned into soft lips and the scrape of Minho’s bunny teeth.

“Hhhhmmm how come we keep forgetting?” Minho’s lips were pressed to your ear.

“Cause you’re a shy girl but a freak deep down.” He tugged at the shell of your ear with those damn teeth.

“And the one thing I can’t resist is corrupting and dragging it out of you. You love being such a nasty whore for me.” Your body erupted in goosebumps from his words and his lips and teeth travelled down your shoulder. You looked around again very aware that any one of your friends could see the two of you at any time. Minho pulled you back into him more and whispered in your ear.

“No one’s watching, it’s just me and you alright?” You melted back into him and his hands slid around the front of your body gripping your soft tummy as he continued to move his hips against your ass. When you pushed it back harder against his cock Minho let out a breath and spun you around pulling you close, his leg between yours, pushing this thick muscular thigh against you and you clenched on it.

“You wear this slutty outfit hoping I’d fuck you tonight?” He leaned in whispering in your ear again, as if anyone could hear him over the music. You blushed and shook your head no.

“Min it’s just a dress...” He looked down at the green velvet sling of a dress. It had a plunging neckline that went to your navel, completely backless, cut up so high on one side one wrong move and you were flashing your panties or your cunt. It hugged every curve and roll of your plump frame beautifully. Minho hummed.

“Hmm... is it?” You nodded quietly biting your lip moving against his thigh more.

“Well as amazing as it looks on you...” He pressed you firmly against him and your pussy throbbed.

“I think it would look better ripped up on the floor of your bedroom...” Your whole body flushed as you rode Minho’s thigh harder, panting. Lips were against your ear again.

“Do that thing you know I like.” His words were breathy and sent you over the edge. You gripped Minho tightly as you came in the middle of the dance floor ‘grinding’ and ‘dancing’ as he worked you over his thigh.

“That’s it, such a good little slut...coming on my thigh.” When your breath evened out Minho cupped your face and made you look up at him. His eyes were always narrowed and sharp but more and more when he looked at you, they were so soft. He kissed your lips gently.

“Let’s get out of here jagiya.” You took a deep breath, your face still flushed and nodded softly still tugging at your lip with your teeth shyly even though you just came on his thigh. The kiss and the pet name were what did it. He thread his fingers through yours and led you through the crowd of people and out of the club.

Minho hailed a taxi and opened the door letting you climb in first watching your juicy ass bending over, then he slid in close next to you draping one arm around your shoulder, fingers teasing your skin, his other hand resting on your plump thigh giving it a squeeze. Minho gave the driver your address and you were off. The soft grazing of both Minho’s hands on your shoulder and leg had you pressing your thighs together. He leaned in.

“If those panties are bothering you, take them off.” You nudged him with your shoulder looking between him and the driver, who had no idea what Minho had said.

“MIN!” You harshly whispered. You looked away when you smiled knowing it would only egg him on. He laughed and continued tracing his shapes and squishing your thigh until you were dropped off at your apartment. You walked up to your door and Minho grabbed your keys from you. He unlocked the door opening it and letting you in first again, watching the way your ass jiggled in that dress with every step.

“Do you want a drink?” You asked as he shut and locked your door behind him.

“Sure baby, I’d love one.” You went into the kitchen to get you and Minho a drink. He walked into your living room and sat in one of the chairs. You came in shortly after with two glasses of whiskey. You set one down on the coffee table and sat in another chair across from him. He leaned over and picked it up taking a drink as his predators gaze zeroed in on you.

You both sipped your drinks in silence the atmosphere palpable. You set your glass down and Minho could see the swell of your big breasts when you leaned forward. You leaned back again and your legs were slightly spread letting Minho see the cute black panties you were wearing underneath that were hiding that plump pussy and fuck... that dress... you looked fucking unreal in it. He smiled at you and as sweet as it was meant to look you knew the storm brewing under it.

“There’s something I want you to do for me jagi...” You pressed your legs together when he called you that and Minho smirked.

“W-what do you want me to do Min?” He picked up your glass and set it on the other table with his then slid the coffee table out of the way with one foot and spread his legs wide as you sat across from him unobstructed now.

“I want you to get nasty.” He licked and wiped his bottom lip.

“Come on beautiful, both your hands, both knees, crawl over and grab a hold of me.” He squeezed his hard cock over his pants. You slid down off your chair and got on your hands and knees crawling over to Minho just like he’d told you to, your big tits swaying and your ass jiggling.

When you were kneeling in between his legs you ran your hands up his firm thighs licking your lips remembering the orgasm he’d made you have on the dance floor with them and wanting to return the favor. You unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down. You licked your hand and reached into his pants pulling out his cock and stroking it. It was long and curved and always rubbed you deliciously when it was buried inside you.

“Go on... you can taste it I know you’re dying to.” You started sucking the tip of his cock savoring his precum, humming. You loved the way he tasted and he knew it.

“There's NOTHING like that moan you make when the tips in! Good GOD!” You took more of his dick into your mouth flattening your tongue to fit it, spit started dripping down Minho’s cock and you rubbed it up and down, jacking off what didn’t fit in your mouth.

“Look at you jagi, you’re doing such a good job.” His praise made you want to please him all the more and you started to take his dick to the back of your throat, gagging on it. He gently gathered your hair moving it out of the way so you could suck and choke on him easily. He watched your gorgeous face take his cock deep.

“I know everyone wants a pretty girl like you...” You slurped and bobbed up and down on his dick faster.

“But you’re for me and me only. No whoring around understand?” He gently held your head in place and came in your mouth. You swallowed his cum and he rubbed your face sweetly.

“Look at me.” You looked up, his cock sliding out of your mouth covered in your spit and cum, your chin covered in spit too.

“If I find out you're gagging on another cock or letting someone else fuck MY pussy, I’ll have to teach my dirty little slut a lesson. You’re MY hole.” You nodded up and down innocently at him.

“I’m your hole... but Minnie...just in case... you should probably spank me, it’s the only way I learn.” He smirked and shook his head.

“Okay whore. Get across my knee.” You stood up and bent over Minho’s firm thighs. Your fat ass was presented to him covered in green velvet, your silky black panties peeking, drenched and sticking to your cunt already. Minho push your skirt up over the swell of your big ass and started rubbing the plump flesh underneath. He brought his hand down hard and your ass jiggled. You squeaked and moaned. He slapped the same spot again and it started to turn red, he saw your pussy clench.

“You starting to understand who’s you are? Hmm? Who’s cunt this is!?” You nodded and looked back at him.

“Starting to... think I need a few more.” Minho rubbed your juicy ass with both hands squishing it together and pulling your ass cheeks apart. His hand came up and slapped the red spot on your ass again, creating a delicious stinging sensation. He smacked it again, quicker, harder and you jumped a little in his lap and moaned again. He pressed four fingers against your wet panties and rubbed.

“Whose pussy is this jagiya?” You wiggled your ass and Minho pressed against your cunt harder.

“Y-Yours.” You said softly. He moved your panties over exposing your glistening hole. He pushed two fingers in and you moaned out louder.

“Couldn’t hear you... I asked whose pussy this belongs to?” He pumped his fingers into you deep.

“Y-YOURS MINHO Y-YOURS! IT’S YOUR PUSSY!” He pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt then pulled out and gave it a soft pat.

“That’s my good little hole. Now get up and go to your room, when I get in there, I want you naked. Understand? I want those big titties ready for me to suck on.” You nodded and Minho slapped your fat ass again as you walked past him towards your room.

“Hurry up now.” You scurried to your room and stripped quickly. When Minho walked in you were standing by your bed naked. He loved every curve, every roll, every juicy part of your thick frame and he wanted those tits in his mouth, now. Minho stripped every article of his clothing off walking over to you.

He palmed your soft breasts and kissed you. His lips traveled down your neck and shoulder as he pinched your nipples hard. He grabbed one of your tits and leaned down sucking marks across one before biting and sucking on your nipple. He licked it and moved on to the other breast biting and sucking hickeys on that one as well before sucking on that nipple hard pulling off with it between his teeth.

He cupped your face sweetly and kissed you deep biting your bottom lip before sliding his tongue in your mouth. He let go of you and laid down on your bed. He held up his hard cock for you waiting. He wanted that plump cunt bouncing on his dick now.

“Go on ride it like whore...” You climbed on his lap and positioned yourself over his leaking cock, god he loved sucking your huge tits it made him drip big beads of precum.

“One condition...” You stopped before sinking down on him.

“Don’t you dare cum until I tell you that you can. Understand?” You nodded giving him your innocent doe eyes biting your lip, only wanting to please him as much as he did you.

“I won’t Minnie. I’ll wait till you tell me. I promise.” Minho smiled and pushed stray hairs away from your face before cupping your cheek sweetly.

“I know you will jagiya, I know.” You lined up his cock with your dripping hole and pushed the tip in.

Minho moaned out watching your fat cunt swallow the tip of his aching dick.

“Fuck! Look so good when you put me inside you!” You sank down on him more and your juices were already dripping down his cock. When your thick ass was fully seated on Minho’s lap and his dick was balls deep inside you, your slick coating his balls, Minho gripped those wide hips tightly.

“Grab that headboard, hold on tight cause we’re about to break it.” Minho warned you. You leaned forward, your big titties right above his face bruises and hickeys getting darker. He thrusted up lifting your big ass with his hips and they jiggled.

“I told you to ride it slut...” He sucked your nipples hard again and you started bouncing on his cock, your dripping cunt and plump ass making the most lewd slapping sound against his thick thighs as you coated him in your slippery juices.

“That’s it, don’t cum, just fucking bounce on it.” You nodded as he started sucking on your tits again squishing them together and tonguing your hard nipples. He pushed you down on his cock making you take him whole and started grinding you against him, the curve of his cock punishing your g spot while his firm pubic muscle rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum, ride it like the cock hungry whore I know you are, hard and deep jagi.” Your fat ass slapped against Minho faster and harder as you struggled to hold your orgasm at bay.

“Minnie please!” He cooed at you sweetly and bit your nipple hard making you scream out.

“PLEASE!!” He rocked your thick hips against him faster.

“Please what hmm? What do you want beautiful.” You were panting and blushing sweat beading on your forehead as you started slamming your cunt on his cock again.

“CUM!” He smirked.

“You want my cum jagi?” You shook your head side to side quickly.

“PLEASE! Minnie... let me cum!” He thrusted his hips up into you hard as you took him whole again and again.

“Look at me jagiya...” You looked him in his eyes, tears in yours, fucked out and panting.

“No. Now fuck me harder slut.” You slid up to the tip of his cock almost letting it fall out of you and slammed down hard over and over as you held the headboard and Minho continued to bite and mark your breasts. There was a creak and then the bed crashed to the floor and Minho’s cock was shoved inside you hard and deep when the bed slammed down.

“FUCK! UHHHHHH FUCKFUCKFUCK!” You didn’t stop Minho wanted you to fuck him like a cock hungry slut you would. You kept fucking Minho at the same punishing pace that broke your bed.

“HOLY FUCK WE REALLY BROKE THE BED!” Minho squeezed your tits hard as you continued chasing an orgasm you weren’t allowed to have yet. You weren’t going to ask again, Minho would tell you. He sat up pushing your soft body off him and back on the bed, his cock still buried deep in your juicy pussy.

“Fuck YESYESYES take it fuck this is MY pussy, this is MY hole, MY WHORE! YOU’RE FUCKING MINE!” He slammed his dick into you hard and unforgiving and you just held on to his shoulders, your thick thighs wrapped around him, your whole body jiggling every time he pounded into you again abusing your swollen cunt.

“MY DIRTY FUCKING COCK HUNGRY SLUT! MINEMINEMINE!!!” You choked trying to talk.y

“B-b-bu-b-but y-yo-you s-s-sa-sai-d we-w-we're j-ju-just f-f-f-fr-frie-friend's” It was difficult to talk when he fucked you like a maniac. Still, he gently ran his hand down your cheek endeared by the fact that you still didn’t realize he was just as crazy for you as you were for him. He cooed at you as he abused your tender wet hole.

“Awww jagiya... we’re just faking with benefits, you’re mine now. You were made for me... cum for me.” You had waited for those words for so long, the confession of how he felt and permission to cum. You screamed his name as you gushed on his cock.

“MINHO FUCK YES MINHO IT’S YOURS IT’S YOURS! MY CUNT BELONGS TO YOU AND ONLY YOU!” He started fucking you harder chasing his own orgasm while you shook and quivered around him your squishy thighs jiggling as you trembled under him.

“FUCKFUCKFUCK! Such a good girl jagiya so fucking good! You’re so sexy when you cream for me! You KNOW what it does to me FUCK! GOOD GIRL!” You took him pounding you as you tried and failed to catch your breath.

“W-wha-what's m-my r-re-rewa-ard f-for be-being s-so p-p-pa-atient M-M-Minnie?” He planked over you and thrusted into you hard and deep so close to coming. He leaned down close whispering in your ear again.

“Oh I’m gonna fill my sweet little whore to the brim, this plump pussy is getting pumped full of cum. Would you like that? Hmm? Want me to fuck my babies into you?” You screamed out as you were about to cum again Minho felt you squeezing him trying to hold off for permission.

“Cum for me baby you don’t gotta wait for me...” As soon as he said it you let go and screamed.

“OOOOOHHH MMMMOHHH FUUUCK!” Juicy wet slapping was all that could be heard as Minho still absolutely railed your fat cunt into the bed.

“Oh god if fucked my baby in you... oh FUCK! Your tits would be HUGE! I’d cum all over you while I fucked them!” Minho moaned and came at just the thought of fucking your huge breasts full of milk.

“FUUUUUUUCK! TAKE IT TAKE IT FUCKFUCK! TAKE IT DEEP YOU PRETTY FUCKING WHORE! YOU LOVE MY CUM FUCKING TAKE IT!” He thrusted his cock deeper pushing his cum further inside you. He fell over on top of you kissing your sweaty face and body, whispering sweet words against your plush flesh.

“Hold it in.” He kissed your face.

“Make me something pretty with it.” He kissed your face again.

“Keep it inside jagiya.” You clenched as Minho softened inside you. He kissed your full lips sweetly as he tenderly held your face. He caught his breath and laid down by you on the bed pulling you close, holding your full body against his, taking another deep content breath as he relaxed further. You laid there in his arms, your head resting on his chest listening to his heartbeat slow back down.

“Minnie?” He hummed sleepily

“Hmm? Yes jagiya?” You hesitated and Minho tilted his head down to look at you.

“Well... um... did you mean it?” His brow furrowed and he saw your glistening hopeful eyes.

“Mean what beautiful?” You tried to fight the tears that were welling in your eyes. He looked at you concerned.

“Th-that I’m yours?” You asked in a small quivering voice. Minho tilted your chin up so he could look you in the eyes his gaze on you soft again. He held your face in his hand, his palm resting against your cheek and placed a sweet soft kiss on your lips.

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice05280 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda

“Of course jagiya.” You sniffled and nuzzled in closer, a tear slipping. Minho wrapped his arms around you, kissed the top of your head and you both fell asleep, in love.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #lee know smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤#thick reader smut #Spotify

772 notes · View notes