#also if neighbors spot you doing this. they are less likely to talk to you :)
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Scenes from an Italian Restaurant
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college.
You're pretty sure your feelings aren't reciprocated... until one night that changes everything.
Warnings:Age Difference,Joel is 49 and Reader is 24,Oral Sex,Car Sex,semi-public sex (sort of),Flirting,Masturbation, and Dirty Talk
Words:12,334
a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared.
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“Y’know, while ‘m happy that you’re livin’ with me again, I’d appreciate it f’ya started tryin’ to find a job that put that fancy degree t’use.” You peer over the top of the book you’d been reading at your dad, who’s taking up a spot at the end of your pool chair. His arms are crossed over his navy work shirt, drenched in sweat from working all day in the roiling heat customary of a Texas summer, and he’s watching you expectantly for an answer.
You set your book on your chest and sigh. It’s not that you aren’t thankful or don’t appreciate your dad allowing you to move back in with him after graduating from college a year ago. You fully understand how fortunate you are not to have to worry about paying rent; you’re also eternally grateful to your dad for hooking you up with a decent-paying job as a secretary at the contracting business his best friend owns. However, you were getting very, very tired of having this conversation.
“And you know that I am lookin’, but it’s silly for me t’apply for an entry-level position at a firm that’s gonna pay me less than what ‘m makin’ now.” Your dad rolls his eyes and grumbles something snippy under his breath, his go-to combo when he doesn’t like that you’re right. You pin him with a pointed stare. “Care to repeat that?”
“Said maybe I oughta tell Joel to dock your pay then,” your dad states, but any lingering irritation in his tone dissipates by the time he’s finished speaking. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his slight frown turns into a small, teasing smile.
“Somebody say my name?” Your gaze shifts from your dad to the sliding glass door behind him… or, rather, the man who opened it.
Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college. Currently, Joel Miller is the tanned, broad, tall man striding leisurely through your backyard, navigating around your pool, and stopping beside your father.
He slaps a hand on your dad’s shoulder in greeting and shoots you a bright grin as he coos, “Hey, lady.” Although Joel’s addressed you with the pet name for years, it never fails to cause an eruption of butterflies in your belly and a crimson blush to paint your cheeks.
“Hey, Joel,” you respond, trying to appear nonchalant even as you’re reining in your thundering heart and halting the pulse throbbing just south of your belly button. “Dad was jus’ sayin’ how he’s gonna ask ya to give me a pay cut.” Joel turns to your father, shaking his head.
“And risk losin’ my best employee? No can do, bud.” Even if he’s only joking, you preen at Joel’s praise. You cock an eyebrow at your dad, waiting for some sort of a comeback, but he only glares at you both before huffing.
“I don’t like when the two of ya gang up on me.” You giggle, and Joel shoots you a lazy wink and a warm, victorious smile. “Anyway,” your dad turns his attention back to Joel, “you said reservation’s at 6:45?”
“Uh-huh, so we oughta get our asses movin’,” Joel asserts, and your dad starts heading swiftly back toward your house. Joel’s eyes shift to you, still lounging on your purple pool chair, and he nudges your foot with the toe of his boot. “That means you too, lady.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Sarah’s birthday,” Joel answers incredulously, and a lightbulb goes off in your head; that’s why you felt like you were forgettin’ something all day. “Please tell me ya didn’t forget my daughter’s birthday. Your friend’s birthday,” Joel teases, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.
“ Of course I didn’t forget,” you lie, narrowing your eyes. Joel sees right through it.
“I bet. Now go get changed ‘fore ya make us late … unless you plan on wearin’ that to dinner.” The blush you just managed to school comes back in full force as he unabashedly rakes his eyes over your body, and only now do you realize how little the tiny black bikini you’re wearing covers.
Joel’s pretty brown eyes, usually so teeming with emotion, are utterly unreadable as you stand from your chair and begin heading inside. As you pass him, you mumble, “Don’t see why you’re complainin’.”
“Didn’t think I was.” You stumble a bit, glancing over your shoulder to find Joel’s gaze slowly sweeping down your body. When his stare lands on your ass, practically bare save for the minuscule cover your bikini bottom provides, his attention snaps back to your face, an impish grin on his lips that makes your skin flush.
“Fuck off, old man,” you reply cooly, flipping him off as you saunter inside; you can still feel Joel’s gaze on you as you ascend the stairs, and if that makes you sway your hips more than usual… well, who the fuck cares?
Once you’ve entered your bedroom and stripped off your bathing suit to assemble an outfit for dinner, your mind drifts into a space you’ve grown all too familiar with over the last five years.
It wasn’t like you didn’t understand how wrong your crush on Joel Miller was. Ignoring the fact that he’s been your dad’s best friend for years, he’s also over two decades your senior and has a daughter only a few years younger than you. It’s disgusting, really, that you have even the slightest hint of attraction toward the man. And yet…
You really can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re no longer a college student parading around under the guise of adulthood. No, you’re a woman now, a woman with autonomy who is perfectly capable of making her own choices. If one of those choices is fucking her dad’s best friend, well, then so be it.
Even as you tell yourself this for the thousandth time, the sentiment feels weak. Sure, the opportunity to fuck Joel Miller is perfectly viable, in theory. However, so many things would have to go right for a thing like that to happen, and you are a notoriously unlucky person; quite frankly, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten lucky to the degree that you would need to for something like having sex with Joel to happen.
For one, no one would ever be able to find out. Your dad, Sarah, any of your nosey neighbors. Not to mention that the logistical feat of such a thing would be tricky. Where would you guys meet up? Not your house, not his house, and anything public like a bar would be far too risky. No, it would have to be a one-off deal, and you’re not so sure you’d be able to stop at just a single taste of Joel.
And that’s all assumin’ he’d even want me, you think as you comb through your closet looking for a summer dress right for the occasion. Joel Miller had never, never shown a flicker of interest in you. That display by the pool, him ogling your ass in your skimpy bikini? That was just him keeping up the incessant string of banter that passed between the two of you. Sure, he was older than you, but that didn’t matter when it came to the way he treated you, as if you were his friend.
Right, his friend.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. This line of thinking was an absolute rabbit hole, forcing you down, down, down until there was a headache ebbing at your temples and your veins were licking with equal parts frustration and lust.
Three quick knocks come on your door, and your head whips around at the sound, pulling you out of your Joel-induced stupor. “Hey, lady?”
Fuck. You stand in your closet, stunned into inaction like a deer in headlights as you realize the only thing separating you, butt-ass naked, and Joel is the mahogany of your closed bedroom door.
“Just checkin’ to see ‘f you’re ready yet. Sarah jus’ texted, said her and what’s-his-face are waitin’ at the restaurant.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You off-handedly wonder why you haven’t just slipped a dress on over your head on the off chance Joel decides to swing open your door, and you realize with a sick sort of excitement that you wouldn’t entirely mind Joel walking into your room at this very moment.
“Almost,” you call out, forcing your words to come out smooth as the image of Joel entering your room enters your mind unbidden; you imagine how his eyes would take in your naked form, how it’d take three short strides for him to reach you, how he might drop his head and lick one of your already hardened nipples into his warm, waiting mouth. You swallow thickly before calling out, “Just need another second s’all.”
A dull throb begins at the apex of your thighs as you picture the man on the other side of the wall putting his rough, work-worn hands all over your soft, supple skin. You wonder what his calloused touch would feel like against your flesh, if his honeyed skin would grow rosy under the thorough ministrations of your wet tongue, if his eyes would grow dark and a deep groan would drip from his lips as you closed your mouth around his-
“Sweetheart? Y’alright in there?” You think you mumble an airy affirmation as you mindlessly trace your fingers along your collarbone, imagining that they’re longer, thicker, belonging to another individual entirely. Any semblance of rationality escapes you as your other hand creeps down the smooth skin of your belly, and you cup your sex with a groan you’re barely able to muffle. You’re so outside of yourself, caught up in the slow path your fingers are tracing along your body, that you don’t notice the doorknob begin to turn.
Only when your door starts to lurch open do you fall back into your body from where you were floating a few seconds earlier. Your eyes blow wide, a strangled cry of surprise and horror falling from your mouth as you realize the precarious situation you’re about to be thrust into. “WAIT.”
The slow sway of your door opening halts immediately, and you let out a breath, spinning on your heel to face your closet. “I- ‘m jus’ comin’ in t’make sure you’re alright.” You hastily decide on a sage green strapless dress, something you can slip into quickly and inconspicuously, and rip the silk garment from its hanger.
“Yeah, no, ‘m good, Joel. Great, I’m great, jus’… yeah, gimme a sec.” You throw the dress on, its hem falling to your mid-thigh as you grab a pair of strappy sandals from the bottom of your closet and slip one on, hopping into the other as you approach your door.
“Y’sure, baby? Ya sound-” You slip your shoe on and grab the door handle in one movement, opening it fully to give you an unobstructed view of the man you’d just been on the verge of touching yourself to. Wouldn’t be the first time, you think to yourself unhelpfully.
He’s looking down at you, concern and curiosity bubbling in his gaze, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “See? ‘m fine, all good. Jus’ needed a minute.” Joel’s eyes blaze a lackadaisical trail over your body, and you swear you can feel him cataloging each inch of bare skin you have on display. He reaches out, plucking one of the flimsy green spaghetti straps between his thick fingers before letting it go to snap back against your shoulder. You stifle a gasp, and he brushes the hair careening down your chest back over your shoulder.
“This is pretty,” he says, voice low and velvety, and you can feel your pussy beginning to grow wet at his praise. He bends down until his mouth hovers just next to your ear, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him: musky cologne and citrusy body wash and something unidentifiable yet so undoubtedly Joel. “Did ya mean t’be wearin’ it backward?”
You look down at yourself, heat rising to your face when you realize that he’s right: you’ve managed to put your dress on the wrong way. You shove Joel’s shoulder, and he takes a step back, a smug grin painted on his lips that makes you roll your eyes.
“You’re a dick, y’know that?” He chuckles at your dig, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“And you’re makin’ us late to this dinner. Now, can I trust ya to fix your dress yourself, or do ya need me to help?” He delivers it like a joke, and the logical part of your brain reminds you of that the moment your pulse begins to flutter. He’s just teasin’ you like he always does.
However, the dark, hunger-tinged stare Joel is pinning you with doesn’t feel humorous. You swallow thickly, saliva pooling in your mouth and pinning your tongue to the roof. “I-” you stutter, words failing you as he continues dragging his eyes slowly over your flustered form. “You-”
“Spit it out, baby.” Baby. You turn the endearment over in your head a few times, testing the weight of it on your tongue. Finally, the corners of your lips pull up in a cheeky smile and your eyelids grow heavy as you gaze up into Joel’s face.
“You askin’ to undress me, Miller?” And this doesn’t feel like your typical banter. No, this feels weighted, laced with something headier. Something full of innuendo and promises and an unquenchable appetite for… something. And then your dad’s voice is cutting harshly through the fog.
“Hey hon, I’ll be- oh, Joel, didn’t realize ya came up here.”
Joel doesn’t even spare your dad a glance, eyes still on you as he says, “Jus’ wanted to check and see if your slow-ass kid was ready t’go.” Your dad snorts, and you narrow your eyes at Joel before turning the withering look to your father.
“Don’t laugh at that.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but ya are kinda slow.” Joel’s smirk only grows, and you huff incredulously. Your dad, apparently oblivious to the bubble of tension he popped, continues. “Anywho, was jus’ sayin’ that I’m gonna head out to the car ‘cause we need t’get goin’, so quit your dilly dallyin’ and let’s get a move on.” He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat.
You look at the ground as you mutter, “Yes, Dad, ‘m just about ready,” and your reply is met with a loud clap of your father's hands.
“Wonderful!” he exclaims, rubbing his palms together before bringing a heavy hand down on Joel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Joel, you can wait with me in the car. I need t’talk to ya ‘bout some work shit anyway.” Your dad begins to drag Joel down the stairs, but not before Joel can get the last word in between you.
He cranes his head back, catching your glare as he descends the stairs. “Y’heard your daddy, no more dilly dallyin’,” he sing-songs, and you scoff.
“Oh, fuck you, Miller.”
“Language, ma’am,” you hear your dad chastise sternly, and you grumble a half-assed apology as you close your bedroom door behind you. It only takes you a minute to flip your dress so that you’re wearing it the correct way and throw on a pair of light pink, lace panties, bounding down the stairs and out the front door when you’re ready. Before you know it, you’re seated in the backseat of Joel’s old pickup truck as it cruises down the highway toward Austin’s metro area.
You watch the residential neighborhoods littered with little kids running through sprinklers and elderly couples sitting in chairs on their front porches morph into the city, full of streets tightly lined with buildings and bar-hoppers entering their first destination of the night. The sun still hangs rather high in the sky, dappling the world in a warm amber glow as Joel pulls up outside a quaint Italian bistro nestled between an ice cream parlor full of bright-eyed children and a sushi restaurant rattling with the heavy bass of the music from within.
“Cute lil’ place,” you say, surveying the old brick exterior of the building and the burgundy awning hanging over the open front door that bears the name of the restaurant, Palermio’s, in loopy, white script. “Sarah’s choice?”
Joel reaches his hand behind your dad’s headrest, using one hand to turn the wheel while he starts to squeeze his truck into the last snug parking spot outside of the bistro. “No, darlin’, I did.” You stare at his side profile as he maneuvers the truck, surprise lacing your features. It’s not until he’s parked the car and meets your eyes in the rearview mirror as he’s straightening out in his seat that you realize he’s bullshitting you.
“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you throw open your door and slide from the backseat, and he’s following you a second later.
“Y’know, you oughta be nicer t’me. I am your boss,” he says as you round his truck, his arm brushing yours, and you look up at him. “Could fire ya for bein’ disrespectful, ‘f I really wanted to.” You smirk at him and shrug.
“Ya could, but then you’d be losin’ your best employee, right?” His chest bounces as he laughs, and you smile at the pleasant noise before getting distracted by how his relatively new-looking cream-colored t-shirt bearing the album cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors stretches tautly over the slopes of his wide shoulders.
“Damn right, lady,” he agrees, his gaze crawling over your body as he drags his thumb over his mostly pepper, slightly salt mustache that decorates his upper lip. Your skin crawls pleasantly as you feel him examining you, and you’re just about to reach your father, who’s waiting for the two of you by the entrance to the restaurant, when you hear Joel quietly say, “Prettiest employee, too.”
Your head whips around, feet planting on the concrete as you wait for Joel to say something, anything else. Much to your chagrin, he struts right past you shamelessly, heading inside as your dad gives you a confused look.
“You comin’, honey?” You shake your head, trying to dispel the medley of thoughts whirring around your brain. Did I hear him right? No, no, he didn’t mean that. Definitely not.
“Yeah, sorry,” you say, stepping inside with a sheepish smile in your dad’s direction. “Thought I heard someone callin’ my name, ‘s my bad.” Your dad just nods his head in understanding before draping an arm over your shoulder and steering you toward the back of the restaurant, where you can see Joel already greeting the members of your party who have already arrived.
As you draw closer, you watch him envelope his daughter in a firm hug, rocking back and forth for a few seconds as he whispers something in her ear. She giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and when Sarah pulls back from his embrace, her deep brown eyes, which are almost identical to her father’s, catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to react, she’s colliding with you so hard you grunt.
“You came!” she squeals, jumping up and down as you wrap your arms around her and giggle.
“Course I came, Sarah. Wouldn’t ‘ve missed your twenty-first birthday for the world, ‘re ya kiddin’?” She takes a step back, holding you by the shoulders before drawing you back in for another tight hug.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus’ didn’t know ‘f you’d be able to make it, didn’t know ‘f you’d have other plans or somethin’.” She bites her lip when you pull away this time, trying to hide the way she’s beaming at you, and a big smile paints your face.
“Nah, no plans more important than my best friend’s birthday.” She smiles and leads you back to the table, where your dad and Joel have already found their seats. You lean against her and whisper conspiratorially, “Did have to fight with my boss t’get some time off for the occasion, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like ya wouldn’t believe.” Sarah giggles, leveling you with a knowing grin.
“I’m sure I’ve got some idea,” she says as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and you slip around to take the only empty seat, which happens to be between Joel and Tommy, his younger brother that you’ve only seen a handful of times. You offer the younger Miller brother a polite smile, which he returns with a cheeky smirk before you turn back to the birthday girl.
“You’ve ain’t ever been that excited t’see me,” Joel says accusingly at Sarah, jerking his head toward where Sarah had practically tackled you, and you stifle a laugh at the hint of playful jealousy in his tone.
“‘s ‘cause I’m not a grumpy old man,” you snark, and Tommy guffaws beside you, reaching around your back to slap Joel’s shoulder lightheartedly.
“She gotcha there, big brother,” he says, accent saturated with his heavy Texas twang. Joel grumbles something incoherent and Tommy shoots you an amused wink. You watch your dad snort with laughter in his seat across from you, and Sarah’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s seated on her other side opposite Joel tries not to look too entertained by your ribbing of his girlfriend’s father, wisely busying himself with the menu.
A few minutes after ordering your drinks your waitress reappears carrying a large tray brimming with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. You take a sip of your Pinot Noir, hiding a small smile behind the fruity flavor as the waitress sets a large cocktail layered with green, white, and red liquid and adorned with a small Italian flag attached to a thin, black straw in front of a wide-eyed Sarah. You’re unable to mask your laughter, however, when Joel’s eyes find the massive drink and he nearly chokes on his sip of Peroni.
“Babygirl,” he sputters, still recovering from his small conniption, “that’s a lotta-”
“I’m twenty-one now, Dad, I can handle my alcohol,” Sarah assures him with an annoyed roll of her eyes and a look at you that says can you believe this guy? And it’s true, Sarah is more than capable of handling her drinks if the videos she’s shown you of her time at college are any indication.
“I know, jus’... jus’ pace yourself, yeah?” She concedes with a small huff, and you wiggle your eyebrows at her tauntingly.
“Yeah, Sarah, make sure ya pace yourself. Got a while ‘fore ya can hang with us big dogs. Right, Joel?” You elbow him in the side, and he looks at you disdainfully.
“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” he murmurs under his breath. You shrug, snagging a piece of fresh, warm bread from the basket the waitress sat in the middle of the table and dipping it in the plate of olive oil and seasoning before stuffing it in your mouth.
“Learned it fwom the besht,” you say merrily, grinning at him through your mouth full of food, and he sneers at you in disgust before turning his attention to your father and Tommy, who are in a heated debate over the Dallas Cowboys chances of success in the upcoming season.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Tommy, this s’our year! We jus’ picked up that kid from- from… aw shit, where’s he from again?” Your dad rubs his temples, hoping to dislodge the information from some small, dusty compartment of his brain.
“Notre Dame,” Joel chimes in as he reaches for his own piece of bread, and your dad snaps his fingers as his face lights up in remembrance.
“Notre Dame!” he bellows, and you shoot him a look that he promptly returns with an apologetic wince. “Notre Dame, yeah, s’right,” he says, quieter this time with a little smile, and you leave him and Tommy to continue their chat as you tune in to the conversation at the other end of the table.
“Anyway, Dad, so Becca-”
“Which one s’that?” Sarah looks at Joel in disbelief.
“Becca. Rebecca Landry. My best friend in high school, goes t’LSU with me, we lived together ‘fore I moved in with Luke…” Joel just stares at his daughter with vacant eyes, and you snort. “Dude, come on, ya literally grilled for her graduation party.” Joel shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. You watch how his throat bobs as he swallows and quickly avert your eyes, hoping no one caught you gawking.
“Sorry, hon, doesn’t ring a bell.” She huffs, and Joel smirks, clearly just giving her a hard time.
“Whatever. Anyway, her boyfriend proposed to ‘er last week, and it was jus’ the cutest thing. Real private ‘cause y’know how she is. She told me they don’t have a date set yet, but they’re thinkin’ ‘bout next Spring. Said t’ask if she should add ya to the guest list.” Joel hums non-committally, clearly lacking an opinion on the matter, and you pinch his elbow. He jerks out of your grip, looking at you with annoyance, and you cock your head in Sarah’s direction. When he turns to see her expectant glance, he huffs, head leaning back as he stares at the ceiling.
“Tell ‘er I’ll be there,” Joel capitulates, and Sarah beams in excitement before giving you a grateful grin.
“Awesome! She’ll be so excited, she loves ya.” Joel crosses his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head slightly as he leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs farther. You have to try desperately to keep your breath from hitching at the action.
“Speakin’ o’ weddings and proposals n’ all that,” your dad says, giving Luke a friendly clap on the back. “When’s it your turn, buckaroo? ‘s been, what, three years of datin’? Gotta be soon, hm?”
Luke looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and sink into the floor at the line of questioning, something your dad remains completely oblivious to. Feeling bad, you throw the guy a lifeline.
“Leave ‘im alone, Dad. Jesus, you ain’t even that interested in my love life,” you huff, sipping your wine. Luke seems to remember how to breathe, a look of thanks on his face as your dad scrunches his nose up.
“‘s cause I’m not. Don’t wanna know about some boy who’s wastin’ your time ‘cause he ain’t good ‘nough for ya.”
“Your daddy’s right, hon, ya deserve more than what some boy can give ya ,” you hear from your right side, and then a thick arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. You turn to look at Tommy, who’s closer to you than the last time you paid him any attention.
“Knock it off, Tommy,” you hear Joel grumble, and you watch Tommy’s eyes dart over your shoulder and narrow minutely. An expression of innocence plasters over his face to quickly replace the mischievous smirk previously there.
“Knock what off, big brother?” Your gaze shifts to Joel, and you nearly wilt at the stormy look he’s shooting his brother. His eyes are simultaneously full of emotion and totally unreadable, jaw ticking in… wait, is he jealous?
“Quit.” You bristle at Joel’s harsh tone, not realizing until it’s too late that when you shrink back at his timbre, you lean further into Tommy. You can feel the egotism rolling off of the younger Miller brother, and the tension building in Joel’s figure seems to grow until he’s at serious risk of snapping. You’re sure that the only way this ends is with Tommy making another haughty comment that results in Joel leaping over your lap and strangling the man…
“Alright, who ordered the lasagna?” Your waitress’ voice dissipates the thunderous air instantaneously, and everyone’s attention snaps to her. The wide, practiced smile she’s wearing falters for just a second, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, ‘m I interrupting somethin’?” The tight pinch of Joel’s face evaporates before your eye, and you watch, stunned, as he turns toward your waitress.
“Nah, darlin’, you’re alright. Reckon that’ll be mine,” he says, cool as clam. By the time all the food is dished out and you’re digging into your respective dinners, the near fight is long forgotten. Unfortunately, you’re not able to shake the bitter feeling of envy that twisted in your stomach at hearing Joel call the waitress “darlin’”.
Before long, all six of your plates have been cleaned, and each of you sits back in your chairs, thoroughly stuffed full of rich Italian food. Your dad belches, drawing a laugh from the other men at the table while your and Sarah’s faces pinch in distaste, and the casual conversation continues as the street outside grows raucous with the Austin nightlife.
Your dad, ever the chatterbox, is going on about some upcoming project at his contracting firm when you feel it: the firm weight of an arm draped over the backrest of your seat. You pay it no mind at first, chalking it up to Tommy’s touchy but harmless hands.
That is until you feel soft, gentle shapes being drawn into the bare skin of your bicep on Tommy’s side. Your brain doesn’t comprehend the logistics of this immediately, and your head snaps in Tommy’s direction to find the younger man’s attention focused raptly on your father with his hands in his lap.
Your back straightens, and goosebumps prickle across your skin when it finally clicks whose hands are on you; you slowly, inconspicuously face your father again, pretending like you’re listening so as not to spark anyone at the table’s awareness, all while peeking at Joel out of the corner of your eye.
At first glance, it appears that he, like everyone else at the table, is completely engaged with the words tumbling from your dad’s mouth. But you know Joel too well. You pick up on the slight quirk of his lips, the way his thick thighs spread almost obnoxiously wide so his knee grazes yours, and how he’s drumming the thick fingers of his other hand rhythmically against the table. Joel felt how your body reacted to his touch.
And he liked it.
That piece of information is what has the low burn in your belly from earlier in your bedroom reigniting, blazing up your skin and making your neck and chest flush a deep red. Joel must be able to sense your blundering state because he removes his hand from you altogether, causing your heart to drop. Your whole body begins to slump in disappointment just as you feel Joel replace his touch on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed when you sat down and the already short dress you’d thrown on in a panic earlier rode higher up your legs.
He squeezes you there, thumb passing back and forth lightly, and your thighs spread of their own volition to allow him more room. You can see his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he’s able to play it off easily as a reaction to your dad’s story. You do the same with the small smile that stretches your lips as his hand begins to creep higher up your leg.
And it’s risky, what you’re doing. Allowing your dad’s best friend, the father of the girl you’ve lived next to almost your entire life, your boss, to inch his big, calloused hand closer and closer to where you want him most right here at this very public dinner.
And yet, you simply do not care.
Well, you don’t care until you feel the pad of his thumb brush your sex over your panties, and you jerk at the sensation, thighs closing to stop the movement of his hands. The action draws your dad’s attention to you, and his brow furrows as he scans your face.
“You okay, hon? You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Your pulse thunders in your ears as you fumble for an excuse.
“No, yeah, ‘m fine. Jus’... yeah, not – uh, not feelin’ too hot.” Everyone at the table looks at you with concern. Even Joel, though his eyes possess an air of arrogance at your state. The bastard.
“Babe, you can go home ‘f ya need to,” Sarah says, and your eyes go wide as you shake your head.
“No! No, ’m fine, really. I wanna stay for you, ‘s your birthday ‘n all.”
She waves her hand as though she’s physically batting away your excuse. “Party’s basically over anyway. Luke and I were gonna meet some friends at a bar a few blocks over anyway, so y’all are good t’go whenever.”
“Well, I’m ready t'head home now,” your dad says, beginning to rise from his chair. “Rangers game ’s on at 9, and 'f we hurry, I won’t miss more than the first inning.” Joel, reading your dad’s eagerness to get home as his cue to be ready to leave as well, stands, and you catch the way he subtly adjusts himself on the way up. You resign yourself to the fact that the fleeting, secret moment between you is slipping through your fingers, and, albeit reluctantly, you follow his lead.
Tommy’s still seated, sipping casually from his beer, when he informs your dad, “Nah, man, it’s Friday night in downtown Austin. Reckon y’all won’t get home ‘til the third inning, at least.” Your father curses, running a hand over his semi-bald head in genuine worry, and you almost have to laugh at the concern twisting his features into a grimace. The urge to laugh quickly fades as you watch Tommy shrug his shoulders and carelessly say, “There’s a place 'bout five minutes away, lil’ sports bar my buddies and I go to t’watch the game sometimes. Can get kinda rowdy, but you’re welcome to tag along, ‘f ya want.”
Your jaw almost falls off at Tommy, who’s completely oblivious to the bone he’s just thrown you. When you turn just enough to allow you a view of Joel out of the corner of your eye, you immediately notice his almost imperceptibly stiffer posture. You watch your dad’s face light up with excitement, a hell yeah on the tip of his tongue.
And then, suddenly, his expression drops and he’s looking at you guiltily. “Aww shit, Tommy, that sounds great, but ‘f this one,” he says, jabbing a thumb in your direction, “ain’t feelin’ well, I oughta get ‘er home.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
You go to object, to insist, practically beg your dad to take Tommy up on his offer so that it’s just you and Joel on the ride home, but Joel beats you to it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll take ‘er.” For the second time in mere minutes, you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to gawk at one of the Miller brothers.
“You sure, Joel? Don’t wanna inconvenience ya or nothin’.” You watch Joel shrug, and then he turns to you, pinning you with an unreadable stare.
“Y’alright with that, lady?” You stare at him, speechless. Are you alright with spending the entire ride home, perhaps even longer if your dad stays to watch the whole game and Sarah is bar-hopping, alone with Joel Miller right after his hand was brushing against your wet, wanting pussy?
Yeah, you were pretty fucking alright with that.
Your silence must draw on for an uncomfortably long time because Joel raises his eyebrows at you, prompting an answer. “Yes!” you say, just a touch too loud, and you take a deep breath before turning back to your dad. “Yeah, sounds good – cool, ‘s cool with me.”
Your dad gives you one more half-hearted once-over, verifying that you don’t need his escort home, but he’s in a losing battle with himself; the moment that Joel offered his services, your dad was sold. The coy little, “Well, ‘f you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he extends to Joel is like a tepid stamp of finality as his mind is already half-full with Rangers jargon.
Joel gives your dad a nod before jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get ya home.” And you try, you really do try not to walk with your chest puffed out the entire way to Joel’s truck. You try to keep up the facade of illness that was brought on by your lustful tizzy.
But Joel called you darlin’, and fuck if it didn’t sound better falling from his lips when it was directed at you and not some waitress.
***
Tommy, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, was right; traffic absolutely crawled in the downtown Austin area at this time on a Friday night. You’d peeled away from the restaurant almost thirty minutes ago, when the sun was beginning its descent.
Now, the analog numbers on Joel’s dash blink 8:57 p.m. , the summer sky having just shifted from muddy brown to steel grey and will soon start to give way to the dark of night and the whisperings of stars, and you’ve just managed to make it out of the city.
Thirty minutes, nearly two thousand seconds, and each one totally void of speech. Joel stared straight out the front windshield, hands carefully gripping the steering wheel as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the metro landscape give way to soil and farmland, groups of clubgoers replaced by black and brown spotted cows.
It’s not until the current CD in Joel’s radio reaches its end and the gears click, switching to the familiar crooning voice of Bob Dylan, that your soft singing breaks the silence.
“What was that?” Joel asks, and you turn your gaze to watch him, focus still intent on the road in front of him.
“Nothin’, just singin’.” He looks at you then, just a quick glance in your direction, but it makes your blood sing.
“Y’like Bob Dylan? “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, hm?” You shrug noncommittally, and his responding smirk makes you sit up in your seat.
“What’re ya laughin’ at?” Joel just shakes his head, and you lean over and swat his bicep playfully. “What?”
“Nothin’, baby.” The word sounds perfect in his low, gruff timbre, and you grin stupidly. When he sees your expression, he reaches over and wraps his big palm around your knee, giving it a shake. “Got good taste s’all. Didn’t expect it from ya.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to pretend like the large spread of his hand over your bare skin doesn’t make your core throb.
“Don’t act so surprised, Miller. You should know better than anyone how much I like old shit.” He clucks his tongue, sliding his hand farther up your leg and squeezing your thigh in warning.
“Careful,” he advises teasingly, but you’re not feeling particularly cautious tonight.
“Says you.”
“Says me?”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind the action as all the warmth in your body is currently shooting to a spot in your tummy. “Yeah, Joel, says you. I wasn’t the one with my hands between your legs in the middle of dinner tonight.” You watch Joel’s posture straighten and you try to hide your grin at his reaction.
Bingo.
You bite your lip and watch his eyes dart in your direction. Even in the ever-darkening dusk, you can see the hint of hunger in his pupils. “Didn’t see you complainin’.” You adjust in your seat, and Joel’s hand slips higher, his pinky just barely dipping beneath the hem of your dress.
“‘s ‘cause I liked it,” you say matter-of-factly, and you watch him exhale heavily. His head swings lazily to look at you, eyes dropping to where his palm rests on your slightly spread thighs before traveling up to meet your stare.
“Yeah? Liked me touchin’ your pussy with all those people ‘round? Any of ‘em coulda caught us, pretty girl. Coulda caught me feelin’ how fuckin’ wet you were, soakin’ through your panties.” And you’re almost sure Joel’s trying to make a point in there somewhere. That what you two did was risky in and of itself, not to mention the fact that he was touching you like that in public.
And yet all you can focus on is that name. Pretty girl. You think it’s your favorite thing he’s ever called you.
When you don’t answer right away, Joel looks back to the road. You watch him check the rearview mirror, and then he’s making a left down a long road and parking the car on a small dirt pull-off a few hundred feet in.
You look around, surveying your surroundings; tall prairie grass decorates your side of the road while a large cornfield stretches over the side closest to Joel, and the only thing lighting the earth for a few miles in any direction is the soft glow of the moon overhead. When you focus your attention on Joel again, half of his face is shadowed while the gleam of lunar opalescence illuminates the other half.
Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, and you can’t help but stare. You reach toward Joel, cautiously at first, but emboldened when he squeezes your leg. You cup his jaw and rub your thumb over his stubbled jaw; his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and you shuffle closer, Joel’s hand falling away from you as you sit up on your knees and reach across the center console to cup the dark side of his face with your other hand.
His palm finds a new position on your hip, and when his eyes open again, revealing his dark, chocolatey irises to you, your body leans closer toward his of its own volition. As if something inside of him, perhaps the very marrow of his bones, is magnetized to yours.
“Joel,” you say, soft voice cutting through the silence in the cab of the truck.
“Hmm?”
“Is this… is this bad? What we’re doing?’ His eyes dart around your face, taking in your heated gaze with a warmth of his own. He sighs as his other hand traces up the side of your body before slipping around your shoulders and resting on the nape of your neck.
“I wouldn’t say it’s good.” You nod, scratching your nails lightly through the salt-and-pepper beard he’s let grow.
“Should we stop?” It comes out as a whisper, laced with apprehension, tediousness, and want. So, so much want.
“Probably.” And he’s right. Whatever this thing between you and Joel is, it’s not feasible. Sure, it would be great. Amazing, even… until it’s not. Until the appetite for each other dies out and what’s left is a hollow skeleton of awkward encounters and forced conversation to keep up appearances.
Either that or the hunger becomes all-consuming, to the point where you can’t eat, can’t breathe, can’t sleep without thoughts of Joel dominating your mind.
And maybe that’s worse, you think. Finding out what Joel tastes like, what it feels like when he sinks into your wet heat, just for it to one day be stolen from you.
Because there isn’t an angle to approach this from that doesn’t end in the same unfortunate reality; Joel can’t be yours. He will never be yours.
And, so, yeah. You probably should stop. But as you go to pull away, to take your hands off of Joel and sit back in your seat while Joel returns the truck to the main road before depositing you safely at home like the good friend he is, Joel’s grip on the nape of your neck tightens. And then he’s tugging your mouth to meet his and your hands, still cupping his cheek, are pulling his face in to meet you halfway.
When Joel’s lips slot against yours, you’re surprised by how soft he is. Joel Miller, perpetually gruff and probably born with callouses etched into his hands, is so inconceivably gentle at the first contact of his mouth against yours. You sigh, breathing him in as he threads his fingers into your hair, and a moment of tranquility washes over you. This truck is the only place that has ever or will ever exist, and you and Joel are the only two people in the world.
You slide one of your hands from his jaw to his neck, stroking the solid strength of his throat, and a rough noise vibrates from him. You repeat the motion experimentally, and he groans into you, tongue darting out to politely ask for entrance into your mouth.
You accept with an enthusiastic moan, and that’s when the seemingly endless reservoir of Joel’s reserve drains dry. He licks into you, tongue caressing yours when you part your lips for him, and the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you held steadily against him. He feasts on you, stealing the air you breathe as he kisses you ferociously.
Joel sucks on your tongue when you go to mewl, and the sound is replaced by a wanton whine. You roll your hips over nothing, and Joel clocks the movement immediately. You feel his reluctance as he drags his mouth from yours, and you sit and wait, carefully assessing every minute change in his expression as you try to regain your composure.
You’re sure you’re supposed to be embarrassed right now, ashamed that you couldn’t keep your neediness in check. However, you can only think about two things: how fucking horny you are at the moment, and how that was probably the only time you’ll ever kiss Joel because this entire thing is about to come crashing down in short-lived, fiery oblivion.
But Joel does something. Something that really shocks you, leaves you vulnerable to attack and exposed right down to the root of you. He looks you up and down, from the slightly frumpled state of your green dress to the no-doubt wild gleam in your eyes, and smirks before saying, “You need t’be filled up, don’t ya, baby?”
You smile and nod, licking your lips as you appraise the man sitting in front of you. He’s so intoxicatingly broad, the sleeves of his shirt stretching tightly over his biceps while the legs of his jeans pull taut along his thighs. You shift in your seat again, causing Joel to pull you closer, and though you’re uncomfortably sprawled across the center console, you’ve never felt more right than you do right now.
Your lips are brushing Joel’s, so close you can feel the warm puffs of breath leaving his nostrils, and any slight surge forward by either of you would connect your mouths again. Instead, you stay like that, so close but still too far for your liking.
“Tell me what it is you want, sweetheart.” You angle your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before drifting your lips back to hover over his.
“Want your cock, Joel.” Your bluntness must take him by surprise because his head falls back against his seat and he groans. You take the opportunity to drop your lips to his neck, kissing it lightly before licking up the column of his throat and biting delicately at the junction where his neck meets his jaw.
“Yeah?” He takes one of your hands and drags it down his front, letting you feel the muted strength of his abdomen tailored from years of manual labor and the soft swell of his belly before landing on the thick bulge in his pants. You pull away from where you were beginning to leave a small bruise on his neck to look at where your hand cups his clothed erection, and you practically drool at the sight. “You want this, hmm?”
“Yes,” you confirm airily before your eyes snap up to meet his, heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “Please, Joel, I- I need it.” He nods, the hand that guided yours leaving you to your own devices and drifting back up to rub his thumb over your lips. You take the opportunity to massage him through his pants, and he sighs, smirking at you.
“Tell me where ya need it, honey,” he lilts, and you grip his bicep as you squeeze his cock lightly. “Need it here?” He nudges his thumb gently between your parted lips, and even as you shake your head, your mouth opens to him, allowing him to push his finger inside. You swirl your tongue over the salty pad of his thumb, switching to mellow kitten licks before taking it deeper.
“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at you. He presses his thumb down against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide so he can see down your throat. “Gotta tell me where then, baby.” You close your mouth again, sucking on his thumb briefly before pulling off of him with a lewd pop.
Your eyes never leave his, and you watch them turn impossibly darker when you tell him earnestly, “My pussy. Want you to stretch my cunt with your fat cock.” He huffs lightly at the vulgarity of your words, and you squeeze him through his pants again.
“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, y’know that?” He looks almost in awe, and you smirk at him, beginning to crawl across the center console to straddle him. When he stops you with a hand to your sternum, you look at him in confusion. “We can’t tonight, darlin’. Wanna take my time with you when I fuck ya, gotta make sure I get ya ready.”
You’re so utterly disappointed you ache with it, pouting at him as you draw in close. “But I’m ready now, Joel. So fuckin’ wet for you, have been since the restaurant.”
He gives you a chaste kiss before pulling back and jerking his head toward your seat. “Show me.” You smirk as you slink back into your seat. You rest with your back against the car door, your right leg dangling off the seat while you tuck your left leg up and spread your knees farther apart, causing the hem of your dress to ride up your thighs until it’s brushing your tummy. You can tell by the wrecked look in Joel’s eyes that from this angle, he has a perfect view of the damp spot decorating the slip of pink lace that is your underwear.
“Fuck, baby, ya weren’t lyin’,” he mutters, fingers smoothing his mustache. “Pretty lil’ panties are soaked. That all for me?” You bite your lip and nod, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy as you ghost your fingertips over the soft skin of your thighs. He makes a noise of appreciation as he watches your movements hungrily, fist clenching as your digits move closer to your aching core.
“Mhm, f’course it is,” you assure, letting out a breathless, needy gasp when your fingers brush your clit over your underwear. You’re sure you must look fucked out, and you’d be embarrassed by that fact if it weren’t for the heady look Joel’s pinning you with right now. You whine as Joel brings his hand down to palm the thick, rigid outline of his cock bulging against his jeans, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. You roll your hips and whine at the stimulation, doing it again without breaking eye contact with Joel.
He squeezes himself and groans as you rut slowly against yourself, dipping a finger down to tease at your soaking entrance over your damp panties, and he smirks. “You gonna show me how ya fuck yourself, baby? Show me how ya like it, hm?”
And you would. You really, really would. Except Joel Miller is sitting in front of you with nothing but a few measly scraps of fabric preventing you from his hard length, and you think that it would be such a waste to not take advantage of that fact.
Besides, you’ve already made yourself come more times than you can count with Joel Miller’s name on your tongue.
“No, baby,” you shake your head, and his brows pinch in confusion. You lick your lips, hand halting its ministrations as you sit up on your haunches and stare at Joel. “Want ya to fill me up.”
He huffs exasperatedly at that, and his tone is laced with annoyance when he says, “Jus’ told ya, ‘m not fuckin’ ya t’night-”
“Joel.” Your interruption shuts him up and he watches you lean in. You brush your lips over his, along his jaw and up his cheek before halting by his ear. “I want you,” you say, dragging a hand down his chest to rest over his in his lap, “to put your cock in my mouth and fill me up.”
You apply pressure down over his hand, making him squeeze himself and the sound he makes is something close to a growl. He angles his head so that your lips meet for a heated kiss and he licks into your mouth immediately, tongue dancing with yours.
“Yeah?” Joel breathes into your mouth, and the hand not palming his dick threads into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs, pulling your head back so that you look down your nose at him with wide eyes and heavy lids. “Ya wanna suck me off?” You smile almost shyly and nod, and he tuts at you, bending to kiss the hollow of your throat before licking a stripe up your neck.
“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’. You had so much t’say earlier, know this pretty mouth s’good for more than just takin’ my dick.” You whine, pressing your thighs together as best you can and rubbing, trying to give yourself some, any friction.
“Wanna taste you, Joel,” you murmur, already delirious and you haven’t even gotten your mouth on him. “Want it so bad, please.”
He rakes his eyes over you, takes in the needy glide of your thighs against each other and the ragged pants making your chest heave. He must take pity on your haggard form because he grins affectionately and releases his hand from your hair.
“Since ya asked so nicely,” he says, palm gliding around to sit on your shoulder. He strokes the column of your throat a few times, watching you with a hooded gaze before nodding toward his crotch. “Go on, baby. Show me how much ya want it.”
You don’t need to be told any more than that before you’re hastily undoing his belt, ripping it from his pants and tossing it into the backseat while simultaneously popping the button on his jeans. Where your movements are hurried and ravenous, Joel’s are soft and sweet; he strokes your back lightly, broad, calloused palm feeling heavenly as it tracks over your bare skin.
You lower the zipper on his jeans and he lifts his hips, allowing you to drag the coarse fabric down his thighs. It takes you a second after you’ve maneuvered his pants out of your way to realize you’re face to face with the stiff outline of Joel’s cock, straining against the black fabric of his boxers. Your mouth goes chalky when you see the small dot of moisture near his fat tip, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and pressing a kiss to the spot.
Your groan is in unison with his, and Joel must be growing impatient because his hand snakes up to gently cradle your neck. “Don’t be a tease, pretty girl,” he scolds tenderly, and the endearment causes you to look up at him through your lashes. What you find in his eyes is something lusty, full of desire and want and… pure, unadulterated awe. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing.
“Wasn’t bein’ a tease,” you say, bending back down to mouth at his cock over his boxers, and he moans when you lave at his swollen tip through his underwear.
“Nah, jus’ so needy ya can’t even wait ‘til I get my cock out t’put your mouth on it, hm?” You lick up his dick and feel it twitch, his thigh tensing underneath the hand you have braced there. You smirk, looking up at him as you dip your pointer fingers under the band of his underwear, hooking your digits and arching your eyebrow.
He acquiesces with a lazy smile, lifting his hips, and you slowly drag the tight fabric of his boxers down to where his pants pool around his knees. However, you don’t immediately look at Joel’s length after fully freeing it from the confines of his clothes. You’re not sure why a cool feeling of nervous anticipation washes over you, but you find yourself stalling, rubbing your thumb over the inside of his knee and kissing his thigh gently.
Joel, the attentive man he is, picks up on your nerves immediately. He massages the area where your spine meets your skull, and you practically melt at the feeling. “Y’okay?” he says softly, and you nod, turning your head to rest on his thigh. Your eyes avoid his dick, jumping up to land on his face. His expression is so kind, so compassionate and observant, that it makes you ache.
“‘m fine. More than fine, ‘m good. Great.” He nods, stroking your cheek before he frowns.
“Y’know, ‘f ya aren’t feelin’ it anymore, we can stop. We don’t have’ta-”
“S’not that,” you mutter, and he stops talking, waiting for you to go on. You inhale deeply, looking for the courage to speak your thoughts into the charged atmosphere of the truck. “I jus’... don’t want ya to regret this.” He flashes you a perplexed look before tipping his head back and laughing. Your cheeks blaze with heat, embarrassment creeping in to tamper the fire of want, and you bury your face into Joel’s thigh to hide.
“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t respond, he grabs your jaw and makes you turn to him. “Baby. Look at me.” You stare, lip twisted in your teeth, and you can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. He angles your chin down then, and you finally let your eyes fall, taking in the cock you’ve tried to conjure in your imagination while your fingers were stuffed in your pussy more times than you can count.
In a word, Joel Miller’s dick is pretty. Thick and long and tan. Veiny and girthy, easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. His tip, which is a few shades darker than every other part of his length, is an angry red, weeping precome from the little slit at the top. The thick weight of him bobs up and sits at attention against his belly, resting against him obediently. Your mouth pools with saliva at the sight of it.
Through the cotton in your ears, you can just barely make out when Joel says, “You tell me, honey. ‘s that look like regret t’you?” You swallow thickly and shake your head.
“N-no,” you stutter, sitting up slightly. You admire the way pearly beads of precome trail down his length and subconsciously lick your lips.
“No.” You can feel his stare on the side of your face, but you can’t focus on anything except the cock in front of you that has you drooling while your cunt begs to be filled. “Want this, sweet girl, jus’ as bad as you, and that ain’t gonna change tomorrow or the day after or next week. I want this,” he says, and he says it with such confidence and surety that you have no choice but to believe him. You nod, almost in a trance, before bending over and pressing a chaste kiss to his fat head.
He must not have been expecting that response from you because at the contact of your lips against his hard member, his head falls back against the seat and he groans, the sound drawing out when you start to press soft kitten licks to his slit.
“That’s it, honey – fuck, feels good.” You preen under his praise, smirking as you spread your lips to wrap around his tip. He hisses through his teeth, and the noise is all you need to start slowly working him down your throat. He’s so big, and even just the head of his cock has your jaw straining slightly.
You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to take him fully in your mouth, that you’ll have to use one, if not both hands to stroke the rest of his long, thick dick as you focus your attention on the head. But that doesn’t stop you from trying.
You pull off of him quickly, and he responds with a disappointed little grunt, mouth turned down in a depressing little frown. That is, until he watches you spit into your hand and place your palm around his base, stroking him slowly. A lopsided smile replaces his previous expression and when you twist your fist at the same time your mouth latches back onto his cock, he can’t help but jerk his hips. Joel’s thrust makes his tip kiss the back of your throat and it takes you by surprise, making you gag.
You watch his eyes go wide in worry as he immediately murmurs, “‘m sorry, baby,” his voice utterly wrecked. You lick from the space your fist occupies and swirl your tongue over him a few times, looking into his eyes as you catch your breath.
“S’okay, Joel,” you purr, lips against him as his cock twitches at the low cadence of your voice. “I can handle it, I won’t break.” And then you’re right back to easing him down your throat. Drool dribbles from your mouth as you work him in your fist, stroking and twisting and pulling while your tongue focuses on the sensitive area you’ve discovered just under his head.
The cab of the truck fills with the melody of your slick mouth sucking Joel off, punctuated by the sweet sounds falling from his lips. Joel isn’t a particularly talkative person, but you’re incredibly happy to find that all that changed when your head was bobbing up and down his length.
“Good girl, perfect fuckin’ girl,” he grits out, tightening his hand into a fist and slamming it against his window a few times as he struggles to keep his hips stationary. You hum around him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to thread into your hair to encourage him to move. A throaty groan rips through him as he realizes what you’re asking, and he thrusts lightly into your mouth.
You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper than he had been just a minute ago, and the feeling of being so utterly full of him makes you whine, shuffling slightly to relieve the pressure building at the apex of your thighs.
“Y’like that, sweetheart? Like when I fuck your pretty face?” The utter filth he’s spewing at you makes you gasp and whimper, and he laughs almost smugly at your reaction to his words. “Yeahhh, you like that. Go on, baby, touch yourself while you suck my cock.” You don’t have to be told twice, snaking your hand down to rub frantically at your aching clit while he slowly, gently jerks his hips into the tight, warm, wet vice of your mouth.
You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time, seeing as how you were already thoroughly worked up from your little display at the restaurant and everything that’s transpired in Joel’s truck since. Actually, if you’re being honest, you’ve been soaking into your panties since that stunt you pulled in your room before you even made it to dinner.
You feel stuffed to the brim, Joel’s cock hitting a spot in your throat over and over that has tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks to combine with your spit lathering his cock. He brushes his big thumb over the path a tear careens down, brushing away the wetness as he drags his hand down to cradle your throat.
“Doin’ real good for me, doin’ perfect.” He squeezes lightly around your neck and curses. “Shit, darlin’, I can feel my cock right here.” He taps your throat and you whine, eyes rolling back as you rut desperately against your fingers. You’re so, so close, and you can tell that Joel is too by the way his tempered pace is growing more erratic, his shallow thrusts less controlled. The noises dripping from his lips to meet your ears are gruffer now too, words he’s failing to string into sentences as they're cut off by expletives and needy moans.
Joel looses a low, gravelly groan that signals he’s mere moments from reaching his peak, and you hear him choke out, “Where do ya want it, baby?’ just as the pull of pleasure burning in your tummy goes taut. You don’t answer, opting instead to simply pull off of him and seat your open mouth at the head of his cock, sticking your tongue out and looking up into his face. Joel smirks as you continue jerking him off with the hand not paying attention to your clit, but his smile falls into a slack-jawed look of lust as his balls pull tight and he comes.
The thick ropes of warm cum spurting over your tongue and decorating the inside of your mouth are just what you need to push you into your own climax; your legs shake and you let a high-pitched sound ring through the truck cab as your cunt clenches hard around nothing, wetness seeping from your underwear and coating the insides of your thighs.
Despite your own orgasm, you make sure to catch every last drop of Joel’s spend, holding it on your tongue for him to see. The space goes silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in your respective post-coital bliss as your eyes scan over each other. Your gaze hangs heavy as he takes in your sweaty, disheveled form languidly before landing back on your face. Joel shoots you an endearing, sweet look, before brushing the hair plastered to your sweaty forehead away from your face.
“Go on, honey. Swallow it f’me.” You do as Joel says, swallowing the sticky fluid he’s shot down your throat, and you find the salty, tangy taste surprisingly pleasant. You clean the corners of your mouth where some of his seed landed with your thumb and, with his eyes on you, push the digit into your mouth, sucking it dry. The dirty act makes Joel shake his head and chuckle, and once you’ve finished, you open your mouth and tip your head back to show him that you’ve taken care of his mess.
You both sit there for a while, just staring at each other with your head resting on his thigh as he strokes your cheek. You’d almost call the gesture loving, but you don’t want to be presumptuous. After a decent amount of time has passed and the stars have come to bear witness to your dirty deed, you turn your head and catch the pad of Joel’s thumb in a soft kiss.
“Oughta get back,” you say, reluctantly breaking the silence. He nods, and you stay like that for a second longer before sitting back in your seat. Joel starts the truck and traverses down the lonely path toward the main road. As he pulls back out onto the black asphalt, likely still warm from the summer sun that’s long disappeared, you can’t help but wonder if this moment will forever belong to the space between that long stretch of prairie grass and corn stalks.
You can’t help but hope that it won’t.
***
As Joel nears your development, you pull down the sun visor on your side and flip open the mirror. Your mouth falls open and a little gasp slips at the sight that meets your eyes. Joel must hear it because his gaze flickers in your direction.
“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks, worry lacing your tone, and you almost giggle at his concern.
“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” you groan, raking your fingers through the hair that Joel’s fingers knotted. Your lips are swollen and chapped, your eyelids heavy with the look of lust, and there’s a track of mascara streaking down your cheek from your tears. To put it bluntly, you look like you’ve been freshly fucked.
Joel looks at you again and barks out a laugh as he turns down your street; he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park so that he can turn to you more fully. You’re frantically trying to will the bright blush on your cheeks indicative of sex from your cheeks as you wipe furiously at the now-dried trail of black mascara.
“Waterproof” my ass.
Your head snaps in Joel’s direction when you hear him chuckle again, your eyes wide with a plea for help. He shrugs, smirking slightly. “Better get inside ‘fore someone sees ya, or else they’ll know what we’ve been up to.”
You know he’s teasing, but his words make you deflate slightly nonetheless as they feel a little bit like he’s kicking you out; however, you steel yourself quickly. There was nothing for him to kick you out of, and it was silly of you to think otherwise. Sure, you’d just sucked his dick and made him come down your throat. And, yeah, maybe he’d almost gotten caught with his hand between your legs at dinner. But that didn’t mean anything.
Just two adults engaging in a casual hookup. That’s all.
Even as you try and convince yourself of this, your reasoning, and consequently your attitude, falls flat. You grunt with thinly veiled annoyance as you grab the door handle and make to leave. “Could’ve jus’ parked at your house, I woulda walked,” you mutter, irritation simmering in your gut as you go to open the door, but then a strong hand reaches across your lap to wrap around your hand on the handle and pull it back shut.
When you try again and are met with the same result, you huff and turn, coming face to face with Joel. His brows are furrowed and the corner of his plush lips are turned down. You hate yourself for wanting to kiss him right now, even though he’s actively telling you to go while not allowing you to do so.
“What?” you bite out, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to. He squeezes your hand, and you feel tension you didn’t realize was making your body go rigid ease.
“What’s a’matter, baby?” The pet name makes you blush, and now you feel even more stupid.
“Nothin’,” you lie. Rather convincingly too, you think proudly, until Joel cocks an eyebrow and informs you just how shoddy your facade is.
“Know ya too well t’believe that bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” You huff, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You drop your hands into your lap, eyes falling to watch your thumbs twiddle. You don’t think you can look into those all-consuming brown eyes right now.
“Jus’... I dunno, bein’ dumb. Thought you were kickin’ me out or somethin’.” You shrug indifferently, and he sits there for a second, watching you fidget nervously. You see him scan your surroundings out of the corner of your eye, making sure no prying eyes are around, and before you can even react, Joel’s gripping the back of your neck and turning your head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. You melt into him, sighing in relief at the feeling of his tongue licking the seam of your mouth.
You stay like that, greedily tasting each other. Or, in Joel’s case, greedily tasting the lingering flavor of himself in your mouth. He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving and eyes dark, and you lick your lips and grin at him.
“I’ll see ya soon, baby,” he says with conviction, and you nod slowly. But apparently your response isn’t convincing enough for him, because he pulls you in closer and says against your lips slowly, “I will see you soon.”
“Okay,” you breathe into his mouth, and he kisses you chastely once, twice before opening your door and tapping your thigh.
“Now get.” You smile, hopping out of his car, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way to your front door. Even when you’ve disappeared into your house, you can feel the brand of his gaze on your flesh.
You watch through the window as he sits in his truck for another minute, and then he reverses down your driveway and pulls into the one next door, hopping out of his truck and leisurely heading up to his front door. You watch him walk into his house, and only then do you stop watching.
You’re not entirely sure how you get up to your bedroom, but you’re almost able to believe that you floated there like an apparition, head airy and thoughts bordering on dream-like. When you collapse on your bed, your mind is on the feel of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, of his cock thrusting into your throat, of what that same tongue and those same thrusts might feel like in your pussy.
What you’re not thinking about is how utterly fucked you are. You’d told yourself once that you wouldn’t be able to do a thing like this with Joel because you’d never have your fill, always wanting more after that first initial taste of him. But you’d gone against your better judgment tonight, and now that little crack of yearning had split into a yawning chasm of want; greedy and unsatiated and hungry.
Hungry for one thing, one person, one man: Joel Miller.
Yeah, you were fucked
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#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#dad!joel miller#dbf!joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfic#joel miller imagine#joel fic#joel the last of us
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morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader
masterlist | updates blog
pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader
summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides.
warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n]
word count: 3.7k
a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.
Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.
Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.
Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.
Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.
Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.
It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?
Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.
Shit.
You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.
The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.
She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.
Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.
You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.
And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.
It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.
“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.
Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.
You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.
“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.
“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.
You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”
“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.
“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.
“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”
Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.
“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.
You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.
You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.
“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.
He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”
His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”
You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.
“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.
And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.
You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.
His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”
Fucking bastard.
“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”
Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.” He gives you a mockingly sad look.
“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.
“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”
Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.
“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”
The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.
You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.
Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.
You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance.
You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.
“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.
“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.
Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.
Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”
You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.
Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”
“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.
He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”
Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.
In your house, the foyer light flickers on.
Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone…. You have two minutes at best.
Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.
He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.
Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.
But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.
You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.
You figure you must be, after what you just did.
You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.
You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”
You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven.
Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”
For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.
Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.
You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.
“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”
That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.
He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”
You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.
Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.
#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller/reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic
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Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)
You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right?
Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding
Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them
AO3
The Vikings are here.
Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel.
The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has.
You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin.
Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured.
But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem.
— What are you doing here?
Ah.
You were spotted.
Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad.
— Can’t you talk?
His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…
Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds.
— I can talk.
This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think.
— Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.
The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say.
— What is that?
He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all.
— A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them…
— Oh. Mavka.
— Others call it mermaid. Selkie.
Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner.
— I’m not…that.
— I can see.
He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water.
Hm.
Is it supposed to be this big?
He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well.
— You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen.
— Why?
— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake.
You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold.
— Where are your men?
You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too.
— Around. Waiting for the order.
— What order?
You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky.
If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either.
König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here.
Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…
— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too.
You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that.
— Are you cold?
You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his.
— You can warm me.
You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you.
— How?
— Do you have a husband?
He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them.
— No. And I won’t.
— Why?
— Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it.
He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father.
— Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja?
He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however…
Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan.
You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls.
— Are you hurt?
— Nein, it’s…go on.
You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube.
König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment.
Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t.
He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks.
— You did good, little bird.
His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you.
You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling.
— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control.
His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek.
— Are you going to leave soon?
He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you.
— Yes. Yes, I will.
You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this.
When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important.
When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead.
#cod#konig x reader#konig#yandere konig#cod x reader#yandere cod#call of duty#cod x you#konig x you#konig cod#cod konig#yandere x you#yandere x reader
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Pervert!
Ft. Giyuu, Shinobu, Obanai, Uzui, Gyomei, Sanemi, Rengoku, Mitsuri
Warnings: Panty/bra stealing, mentions of masturbation, just sexual themes overall. Afab reader. Minors and ageless blogs dni!
Summary: Just some headcanons! Not proofread!
GIYU TOMIOKA:
He’s so sly about it. Like the two of you will be hanging out and as soon as you turn around, he’s checking you out.
Though, he does feel a little guilty since you’re one of his closest friends (and his neighbor-), but at the end of the day, it won’t matter because he’ll be moaning your name until he passes out.
He’s the type to feel guilt in the moment and then think back on it later and be like “worth it.”
Giyu tells himself that it’s only natural to feel these types of things. (It is, right??) It kind of makes him feel less bad about it.
He walked in on you changing once and was never the same afterwards, I’m talking about the hardest hard on to ever befall a man ✋☠️
He’s not totally perverse though, because he respects your personal space and doesn’t try to hug or feel you up, but every time he gets off to you it makes him feel worse.
This man is borderline about to just get down on his knees and beg for you to be his because he’s so desperate for you.
However, he does enjoy catching sneak peeks of you when you’re in the shower or while you’re changing.
I mean you’re just right there so how can he not stare?
SHINOBU KOCHO
She sleeps over. All the time. Doesn’t even try to hide that she might be a women enjoyer.
She’ll do little things like “Y/N have you ever kissed a girl to see how it would feel? Why don’t we test it out to see if we’re lesbians hehe~”
You two also go skinny dipping together in the nearby lake frequently, and often times she’ll come up behind you and grope you jokingly (Because girl things amiright?)
This chick openly steals your bras and underwear. AND WEARS THEM. IN FRONT OF YOU.
SHE’S PUTTING SHIT DOWN AND YOU’RE NOT PICKING IT UP. LIKE THIS ISN’T PERVERSION, SHE IS HARD ON FLIRTING
She takes you out to places that are referred to as make out spots and likes to give you little sexual innuendos here and there, but you’re so oblivious it drives her up a wall
She literally offered to “demonstrate” how to properly give someone head AND THEN PROCEEDED TO EAT YOU OUT LIKE HER LIFE DEPENDED ON IT
Recently, however, you’ve noticed that some of your vibrators (the ones that weren’t gifts from Shinobu) have gone missing
Not to worry, they’re in good care as long as they’re with Shinobu, and honestly, so is she.
She is shameless.
IGURO OBANAI
He’s so bbg istg, but he’s a DEVIL when it comes to you
He lives for hugging you and brushing his fingers against your ass, or dropping things on purpose and watching you bend over to pick them up
Speaking of bending over- this man has an entire photo album dedicated to pics of your juicy ass
He is definitely the type to get turned on at the thought of you finding that album; He just loves the riskiness of it all
He takes you out for drinks and gets you a little tipsy so he has a reason to ‘watch over you’ because it’s simply not safe for a girl like you to be alone and wasted
Obanai also has pictures of you sleeping, ones where you can see how tight your shorts are and ones where you can see your perky nipples through the shirt you’re wearing
He really can’t wait until you find those ones.
Once after a night out together, he went through your room while you were asleep on your couch and stole one of your vibrators
That night, he used it until the battery died, shaking from pure overstimulation and excitement. However, he never got tired of moaning out your name desperately
He does feel some form of guilt though, after all, what he’s doing isn’t exactly morally acceptable. And he would have made his move a while back if he wasn’t so scared about ruining your friendship
So for now it’s just useless masturbation, pretending it’s your pretty little lips wrapped around his aching cock
TENGEN UZUI
Has more self control than Shinobu, but barely.
He openly slaps your ass in public, placing his hand in your back pocket as you walk together and glaring down anyone who gives you funky looks.
He’s also a lightweight, so whenever the two of you go out for drinks, it always ends in him flirting (poorly) with you and asking you to join in on a foursome with Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma
He gets all whiny when you say no and offer for him to spend the night at your place so he doesn’t have to walk home alone, but then again, he’s gonna be at your house for a night 👀
The next thing you know, your favorite pair of panties are missing, along with your most worn bra and even your favorite perfume.
You ask him about it the next time you see him but he denies all accusations. Low and behold, the next time he spends the night, your bra and perfume return, but sadly, you’ll never see those panties ever again.
Whenever he’s wasted and at your place, he begs for you to bathe him to help him sober up, but the last time you did that, he got a hard on when you ran your hands down his broad shoulders.
Your friendship dynamic is the dumb idiot (Uzui) and the tired mom (You), so it’s often that you wind up taking care of him in situations like this.
However, unlike Obanai, he hardly has any photos of you, instead, he prefers to take sneak peeks while you’re showering
He gets even more painfully hard when he catches a glimpse of how the water runs down your gorgeous body, your head turned away and your ass facing him is the best sight he could ever behold.
But he’s not the type to masturbate alone, moaning your name like a slut, he takes it to Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru, who are far from worried when he ‘accidentally’ moans out your name while they’re pleasuring him.
He’s sworn them to secrecy though, so they’ll never be able tell you how terribly he shakes when he calls out your name.
GYOMEI HIMEJIMA
Out of all of them, he’s definitely the one to feel the worst about it. Like, it goes against his views to be thinking of someone like this and it causes him to feel MASSIVE amounts of guilt.
Since he’s blind, he has to imagine what you look like, which isn’t hard because he had you describe yourself to him when you first met.
He sees you as the most perfect woman to ever grace the planet, he’s 100% smitten. He is legitimately in love with you 🙏🙏
The two of you share an apartment, and due to Gyomei’s strong desire for you, he’s considered moving out.
He hates it, he genuinely thinks it’s wrong to think of you in such a way. But Uzui and Rengoku told him that it’s totally normal for a man to think like that and not to worry about it.
There was one night when he had come back from work later than usual and had assumed you were asleep, only to hear you pleasuring yourself in your bedroom.
He may be blind but he sure as hell ain’t deaf. He’ll never be able rid his mind of how beautiful your voice sounded, of how lewd the noises you made were.
He’ll never stop picturing it either. There’ll be times when he’s at work and he thinks of you like that, immediately having to excuse himself and head for the restroom as soon as possible.
You just get him so unbelievably hard. It drives him mad how he can’t have you, and it creates a deep pit of shame in his stomach when he masturbates to your perfect being.
He can hardly hang out with you like he used to because he starts to think about how it would feel if he had you ride him on the couch, or if he bent you over the kitchen counter and made you scream.
While he dreams of fucking you endlessly, he’d die a happy man if you’d just kiss him.
SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA
You’ve been tutoring his brother recently, and he just can’t get you out of his head.
Like he loves the idea that you’re so willing to help Genya, so maybe you’d be able to help him?
Or better yet, he could help you.
He’s so mean whenever you come over, openly bullying you whenever you’re trying to teach Genya. He hopes that he’ll get to see tears run down your beautiful face one day, but instead, you only return his comments with a smirk
The first time you did this, it caught him off guard entirely. Like you put his ass in his place with ease and it left him hornier than ever.
He dreams of you on your knees, tears in your eyes and he fucks your throat harshly.
Poor Genya can’t catch a break either- He literally caught Sanemi jerking off to a pic of your ass, literally traumatizing the kid.
You take no bs, so you’re used to going over to their place, immediately shutting Sanemi up and watching him scurry of to do lord knows what.
He has videos of you insulting him and often uses them to get off, but he’d never tell you that even if he managed to pull you.
As far as he’s concerned, he’s going to dominate you, not the other way around. (He just wants you to sit on his face.)
KYOJURO RENGOKU
He’s such a gentleman when it comes to you. But like- whenever you grab his arm and drag him around, or bend down in front of him to look at something, he starts thinking some unholy things-
He does have a couple upskirt pics, but only out of curiosity. He wanted to know what it would feel like to do something risky like that (and Uzui kind of talked him into it-)
He loves hanging out with you, but you’re so innocent. He’d make sexual innuendos if he wasn’t afraid of you asking what he meant. The thought of someone ruining your innocence literally makes him break out in a cold sweat.
(Oh but he gets off to the thought of him ruining your innocence all right.)
He often wonders what it would be like to make you moan in pleasure, how easy would it be to get you to cry out in pleasure?
You’re just so sweet though, and it only makes him feel like a horrible friend when you meet up after he’s been masturbating to your cute little face.
Honestly, he couldn’t care less about how you would make him feel, he practically strives to make you happy. He’d eat you out endlessly if you turned around and asked him to.
I mean it. He’d do it no questions asked, right then and there. As long as you’re satisfied, then nothing else matters.
But it does suck when he’s stuck humping a pillow, pretending it’s you. He’d much rather it be the real deal.
MISTURI KANROJI
MY GOD SHE’S LITERALLY JUST LIKE SHINOBU
She uses the fact that you’ve been best friends for a long time as a way to “test things out”
She also occasionally says things like “Do you ever wonder what it would feel like to kiss a girl?” And “jokingly” flirts with you during sleepovers.
There was one time you two were dancing around and you told her you liked her jiggle physics, resulting in her flashing you
She once found where you kept your toys and judged you for how cheap they were. She mocked you for “not knowing how to pleasure yourself” and offered for you to use hers whenever you liked
You did take her up on that offer once, and she used it right after (cleaned of course)
She jokingly gropes you along with you groping her and just messing around with your sexualities in general. (Just normal gal pal things-)
Though, you’ve always taken her flirting as a joke, since you’ve always been flirtatious with your friends.
She loves cuddling with you on your couch when you watch movies, making fun of the characters and eating popcorn together.
She definitely takes a lot of advice from Shinobu, which is where she gets most of her confidence from. If it were anyone else, she would be a blushing mess.
She’s just a fan of physical contact in general. Like hugs and little cheek kisses in general-
My god she loves physical contact so much that like the slightest touch has her shivering a little. Full blown goosebumps.
#x reader#demon slayer#fanfiction#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba hashira#sanemi x you#shinobu x reader#giyuu tomioka x reader#uzui smut#uzui x reader#mitsuri smut#giyuu smut#sanemi smut#rengoku smut#rengoku x reader#rengoku x you#obanai x you#obanai smut#gyomei imagines#gyomei x reader#gyomei smut#kny smut#kny x reader#kny modern au#kny headcanons#demon slayer x you#demon slayer imagine#demon slayer smut
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(bad at) keeping secrets / charles leclerc
masterlist
day 8: hide (part of one-word november prompts!)
summary: charles and you were seeing eachother for quite some time, but still couldn't quite figure out how to tell your brother, pierre. (and maybe you don't need to)
word count: 0.6k
pairing: charles leclerc x gasly!reader
warnings: not proofread! also, badly translated french lmao
charles and you had met in the early days of his career, back when he was still racing in karts just like your brother, pierre. you and your family spent your whole days accompanying your older brother who, just as charles', couldn't see himself doing any other thing that wish to be part of the formula 1 world one day.
eventually, all three of you grew up, still together. even though you spend less time with them due to their tight schedules, you hangout just enough to catch feelings for the monegasque. still, you were always too scared to do anything with charles, not wanting to disrupt the friendship the two boys had since they were kids.
but the more you tried to stay away from him, the closest you became. it's like you two were attracted like magnets. so now, three months after starting to see eachother, he was in your apartment in only his sweatpants after a night together. it was a sunday, and due to it being an off-week for him, you two were taking advantage of the little time you had together watching a movie on the tv while laying on your bed.
until your heard the sound of keys on your door lock. you got up and looked at charles, confused because you weren't expecting anyone, and found it strange that the person who was trying to get in had the keys in the first place. you thought that maybe a neighbor had got the apartment doors messed up since they looked all the same, but you quickly recognised the voice that reached your ears.
"ma colombe (my dove), you home?"
charles, who was close to falling asleep a second ago, had almost fallen to the floor, caught off guard by his best friend's presence. you had been keeping your relationship a secret until now, not knowing how or when was the right time to tell pierre that you had been seeing his best friend, despite his general warnings to not mess with any drivers -especially the monegasque-.
"please stay here and hide. i'll get him out as soon as i can" you whispered to him, giving the boy a quick peek on the lips before fixing your hoodie. that wasn't even yours in the first place. god, you hoped pierre didn't notice. "yes, i'm home" you said, closing the door as fast as you could, so he wouldn't see who was inside. "what are you doing here?"
"great to see you two" he huffed. you hadn't mean to come off as annoyed to him, knowing that this was off of character for you, who had always had a soft spot for your big brother. he continued "maman said you had forgotten a jacket, and since your house was on the way to mine i decided that I should drop it off" he said calmly, while handling you the piece of clothing. you smiled and nodded thanking him, but didn't say anything else. "what is it, chère (dear), something wrong?" he asked, now worried due to your lack of interaction. in a normal situation, you would have invited him to lunch, maybe talk a bit about how his last race went. but your silence made him suspicious. "sorry, I was quite busy back there, I was just working" you quickly answered. maybe too quickly.
"working in your bedroom?" pierre asked, switching his stare to the door where you had came from. "if you were working, why are you so flustered?"
"i-i'm not" your cheeks immediately flushed pink, and you knew that if he continued to ask questions, you'll be fucked. "okay okay, if you say. see you at maman'š'" you took a long breath, filling your lungs after holding your breath for a bit too long. but just when he was about to disappear through the door, you heard his voice, full of mischief, while screaming out loud "also, tell charles he needs to get a more subtle car if he doesn't want to be seen".
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charlewiss writing challenge#one word november prompts#user charlewiss#f1 x y/n#f1 x yn#formula 1 imagine#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x yn
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"I’d like to know if you could help me! I want to be a professional open bodybuilder (just like Nick Walker, Derek Lunsford), but, at the same rate my muscles grow, so do my male musk (specifically sweat musk from my armpits and cock) - no shower, deodorant or anything else will clean/cover my strong smell - until the point people around me get dizzy with my musk, start to complain and ask me to leave the places. With more muscles and less body fat, more sweating and musk until it reaches a strong level that people start to avoid me from fear of my muscles and my intense gym musk! Could you help me with that? Thanks a lot!". I'd like to have the same experience please and thank you
It's been a while since your parents' neighbor moved out… You always had a bit of a crush on him. Handsome, rich, cultured… But at some point he just disappeared. Your parents said he was now working as a mover or something. They talk about him very contemptuously. It makes you angry. But you're also disappointed that he didn't say goodbye to you. Sure, you're only 18, a teenager, he was a man. But you still expected him to say goodbye.
You come out of school and walk up the stairs, lost in thought, playing with your cell phone. You hear footsteps from upstairs. Heavy footsteps. Even before you see the man the footsteps belong to, you can smell him. The scent is intoxicating. Pure musk. You inhale deeply. And you get a hard-on. And then you see the culprit. A colossus. And if you look closely: your parents' neighbor. "Hello little friend" he says in a booming bass. "Long time no see." He gives you a fist bump. You swallow and can't think of what to say. You just take a deep breath. And you can see your precum forming a big wet spot in your jeans. "Hehehe" says your neighbor. "Not many people can stand the smell of a real man." He raises his arm. Beads of sweat glisten in his armpit hair. Damn, you can't help it. You stick your nose in his armpit. You lick the beads of sweat out of his hair. He kneads your hard-on. You cum in your pants. You hear your mother screaming that the pervert should keep his hands off you. You give each other a deep French kiss. And your former neighbor leaves your house with heavy steps.
Your mother pulls you into the apartment and asks you what has gotten into you. You've shot so much cum that it looks like you've pissed in your pants. Your mother sends you to the shower and collects your clothes in disgust. Even in the shower with shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, even with deodorant and body lotion: you can't get that divine smell out of your nose. And the way your mother looks at you, you seem to stink despite the shower. She sends you to your room. You say that you are an adult. She replies that she doesn't care. Bloody hell, you think. You put your headphones on so you don't have to listen to the nagging. You play a little online. And then you fall asleep. You dream wildly. You wake up to a crash. Your bed has collapsed under your weight. You yawn and stretch. And you sense that something is different. Something is different, but it's very good.
Your bro writes you a message: "Workout in half an hour". Good thing you slept in your workout clothes. That way you don't lose any time. You quickly pack up your things. You don't want to wake your parents. It's nice to be with them from time to time. But you're glad when you get back home to your muscle brother. And your parents are happy when they can finally air the room and get your smell out of the apartment.
Pic found @unboundselves
This story is a sequel to
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What’s up with the ties between Sally & Eddie?
There are quite a few - to the point where I’m starting to suspect that they may be foils, or at least inherently tied together in the story.
First let's bring things back to the clocks. The “day” side has an obvious resemblance to Sally, like how the “night” side resembles Eddie. There’s not really much I can say here since we don’t know much more yet, and who knows if this has changed behind the scenes. But just think about that, the rarity of the color purple, night vs day, and the “monster”. Keep it in your head, I think it may be important.
Also the fact that Eddie is the only one with a watch, but Sally’s face has an incredibly similar face on her door.
Obviously Sally has some sort of beef with Eddie, despite him being nothing but friendly and (to our knowledge) being undeserving of it. One thought I entertained was “maybe Sally is dismissive of him because he’s a worker,” but that holds zero water when you consider how perfectly friendly Sally was with Howdy (karen Sally debunked <3). The second thought I had was “maybe Sally senses the queer in Eddie and it intimidates her” - which would make sense if Sally is a lesbian like I suspect. Internalized homophobia, anyone? This holds up if Eddie is going to turn out to be - not open about himself, but comfortable in his skin in a way that, say, Frank isn’t. Which I have a feeling that will be the case, which would likely make Sally put on airs even more so than usual.
Anyone else seeing a continuous trend of (social) masks and performances unfolding in the Neighborhood? I sure am.
But let’s talk about why I think they might be foils. They balance each other out in an interesting way, despite their only solid similarity being that Both will work/perform no matter the weather. They have a lot of closely related differences:
Eddie has been mentioned (and implied within the story so far) to have a deeper well of knowledge than he lets on, but acts humble about it. Sally has been mentioned (and implied) to know less than she portrays, but acts like a bit of a know-it-all - she pretends to know things that she doesn’t.
Eddie’s role is about helping others at his own expense, while Sally’s is using others to reach fame.
Eddie strives to connect with his Neighbors and is all about accuracy/precision. Sally is in her own little world and has proved to be more than willing to improvise / not think things through before acting.
Eddie is slow to anger, and Sally is easily irritated.
Selfless vs Selfish.
Night vs Day.
And to put them in the Johari Window - i believe that Sally resides in the Blind Spot (known to others, not known to self), and Eddie resides in either the Facade (not known to others, known to self) OR the Unknown (not known to others, not known to self). Personally I’m starting to believe that Eddie may reside in both.
It’s far too early to draw any real conclusions, and theorizing on all of this is difficult. I feel as though - as usual - we have puzzle pieces but no frame of reference for the way they fit together, what picture they build. And who knows, tomorrow’s update may shred this to ribbons, but I doubt it.
One thought I had was that they’re in cahoots about something - it doesn’t have to be something malicious or some sort of secret plot, it could simply be something they both know and are trying to keep quiet about. Eddie is trying to connect with Sally since they have this in common, but Sally is actively putting distance between them to preserve their secret / plausible deniability. Do I actually believe this? Meh. I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks.
So current base thoughts: Sally is dismissive of Eddie either because he intimidates/scares her on an internalized level, or she’s actively trying to put distance between them for a currently unknown reason. There’s probably a secret third option I haven’t even considered!
#she's just so fascinatingly dismissive of him in a way she isn't with anyone else#she exclusively calls him 'mailman' she brushes him off when he tries to talk about her halloween costume-#i bet if anyone else has so much as Mentioned the word 'pedrolino' sally would be on them abt it#much like how barnaby had to Escape a convo w/ her bc she was that passionate#so what is it with eddie... why does she feel so strongly about him in such a negative way...#ITS KEEPING ME UP AT NIGHT <3#there is so much to unpack there i feel but i dont have the right scissors yet...#homebogging#welcome home speculation#wh speculation#man i feel so bad for eddie#he's trying to be friendly!!! he's trying to be her friend so hard!!! MAN.#i suspect that if eddie snaps in some way (he probably will) it will likely be in relation to sally#bc no one else treats him that way. like. even like... howdy keeps up an amicable pretense#but sally is straight up out here treating him like a pack mule named 'mailman' and brushing him off with obvious disinterest/frustration#LIKE DAMN. GIRL. WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS#i love it. its fascinating. i cant wait to see how that unfolds
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behind the scenes chapter three | friends with professional benefits
masterlist | prev | next
pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)
rating: T
word count: 3,410
summary: you and jamie get to know each other. let the games begin.
a/n: this is coming out later than i had planned but i hope it was worth the wait! going to be less busy this coming weekend so hope to share more soon and get a lot of chapters in the queue for you all <3
Five days. It had been five days since you and Jamie agreed on your plan to fake date in front of the entire world. And although you didn’t regret the idea - yet - you’d still had enough time to overthink and suddenly become very nervous about things going wrong.
You hadn’t seen Jamie since your conversation in the café, but you had various text exchanges throughout the week. At some point Jamie had asked you what your contact name was for him.
what do you mean? it's your name. jamie.
just jamie?
what else would it be?
you’ve gotta add emojis luv if someone sees your phone it's gotta look like i’m ur boyfriend. mine says ur name with like 5 hearts
That’s when you realized you needed to be more thorough than you thought.
Which is precisely why Jamie was coming over to your flat today. Sure you’d known you needed to get together sooner or later to talk through the plan as a whole, but today you were armed with a checklist of things to cover.
You’d also talked things over with Margot earlier in the week. And Harry. But that conversation had been a lot more cut and dry. He was over the moon you were doing this, and sent you an email with own list of requirements. It basically started and ended with: be a couple in PUBLIC.
With Margot, she’d repeatedly asked if you were sure about the whole thing. You’d told her over and over again that, yes, you had never been more sure of anything in your life. Though by the fourth reassurance, you weren’t sure how convincing you sounded.
Either way, you were committed to this and dammit if you weren’t going to see this through. This was just another role you had to play. It’s what you did best.
From your spot on your coach, you nearly fall off of it when there’s a knock on your door.
Jamie.
Its go time.
You put your laptop down on the coffee table and jog over to the front door. Pulling it open, you’re actually surprised to see Jamie standing on your doorstep holding a bouquet of flowers.
You squint, “Are those for me?”
Jamie scoffs, “No, they’re for your elderly neighbor I just passed. I’m hoping you can introduce me.” You roll your eyes but give him a smile, “Of course they’re for you. We have to make this look convincing right?”
“Jamie, there’s nobody else here.”
“Okay, but what about paparazzi? One could be lurking about and catching me visiting your flat would be the perfect kickstart to this whole thing.”
You chuckle, “I doubt there’s any photographers around here.” Still you look around behind him, and after seeing no one, you pull him into your apartment and shut the door.
“Still, you know Google Earth. Always taking pics,” Jamie jokes, laughing to himself as he steps further into your living room.
You stop in your place before you follow him, “Did you just quote Parks and Rec?”
Jamie spins around, “You understood that reference?”
You laugh in disbelief, “Of course. It's one of my favorite shows.”
“Same,” he smiles, “Used to watch it with my Mum all the time in high school.”
“I love that,” you smile back, closing the gap between the two of you so you can take the flowers from his hands, “These are pretty by the way. Let me go put them in a vase but feel free to make yourself at home.”
You’re quick to fill up a vase in your kitchen, leaving the flowers on the counter, but are surprised to return to Jamie still standing in the middle of your living room, looking around.
“This place doesn’t seem very you,” he comments as you return, plopping down on the couch.
“How would you know? You just met me,” you ask teasingly.
“Well, that’s the point of today isn’t it,” Jamie teases back, joining you on the couch, “Still, it seems very posh and you seem a lot more chill.”
You nod, “Well, I’m just renting this place while I’m here so not much of it is mine. I’m thinking about decorating it a bit to make it more homey.”
“Well if you need any recommendations for places to look, I know some stores that have cool shit.”
“I may have to take you up on that.”
You lean forward and grab your laptop again. You glance over the excel sheet you had open and try to figure out where to start.
“What you lookin’ at over there?” Jamie asks curiously, trying to peak over.
“I want a way to keep track of all the things we need to figure out like our cover story and just things we need to know about each other,” You explain, turning your computer towards him.
His eyes widen at the very detailed and colored coded document you had laid out. “Wow, that’s…intense.”
You chuckle, “Yeah, I may be a creative but I am very Type A. I also don’t want to fuck this up so I think it would nice to have a place to keep track of everything. I can email this to you if you want? Or ooh! I can upload it to Google Drive so we can both edit it.”
Jamie shakes his head, but there’s a small smile on his face, “Sure. Where should we start, Boss?”
“Well, I feel like the most obvious thing we need to cover is how did we meet? How did we get together?”
Jamie’s thoughtful for a second before shrugging, “I feel like we could use how we actually met, you know? It’s realistic because it's actually real. And keeps it simple. We ran into each other and got coffee, or hot chocolate, as some may prefer.”
“Nice, you remember my preferred beverage,” you smile as you start typing in the doc, “Who asked who out? Did we do it that day?”
“You asked to exchange numbers, but I reached out a couple days later. Maybe we went on our first date last weekend?”
You nod thoughtfully, “That works.”
“It would’ve had to have been Friday, though,” he adds, “I had a match Saturday afternoon and told Keeley about seeing someone that night.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, “I filmed late on Friday night.”
Jamie shrugs, “I could’ve waited up for you. Got drinks at a bar?”
Your lips quirk up at the thoughtfulness - even though it was made up.
“Okay,” you continue filling out your spreadsheet, “I have a list of things that one might normally know about a significant other, but since our “relationship” is so new, I think we only need to cover what you would on a first date.”
Jamie’s eyebrows furrow, “Like…what?”
You glance up at him, “What? Jamie Tartt’s never been on a date before?”
He laughs awkwardly, “I’ve obviously been on dates. But we didn’t really do a lot of talking.”
You roll your eyes, “Oh lovely. Alrighty, then, let's just focus on what normal people do the first time they’re getting to know someone.”
“Fine,” Jamie sighs, “Hit me.”
“What’s your…favorite color?”
“Seriously?”
“What?” you laugh, “It's a completely normal question.”
“Yeah, for five year-olds,” he frowns, crossing his arms.
“Come on, you’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you don’t have a favorite color?”
“I dunno,” he shakes his head looking around, “Maybe, blue?”
“Blue? Come on, that’s such a boy answer,” you mock.
“Well, I am a boy if you haven’t noticed,” Jamie throws back defensively, “Its my favorite color your asking, is it not?”
You bite your lip to keep from laughing, amused by how seriously he’s taking this, “It is. Why blue then?”
He shrugs, “Dunno. It’s one of Richmond’s colors. Was a Man City color, which is the team I used to play for and my hometown team. I remember my mum wearing it a lot growing up.”
A genuine smile starts to form on your face as you listen to him ramble. It was the second time he’d brought up his mom. “Are you and your mom really close?”
He turns to you, a little taken back, “You ask about parents on a first date?”
You shrug one shoulder, “If it's going well.”
Jamie has to turn back away from you so he doesn’t do something stupid like blush. He decides to focus on answering your question. “We are. She’s sort of like...my rock, I guess? She’s actually the one who got me into football.”
You nod, listening intently, “And your dad?”
You notice Jamie tense slightly, but he turns back to you with a half smile, “Our relationship’s a bit complicated. Maybe that’s more of a story for a fifth date or something.”
You give him a kind smile, “That’s fair.” And then you turn back to your laptop screen.
“What about you?” Jamie asks after a beat.
You look up with raised eyebrows, “Me? My favorite color is yellow.”
Jamie chuckles, “Noted. But no, I meant, what's your relationship with your parents like?”
“Oh!” you chuckle lightly with him, “My mom is the best. Feels like she might get along with yours; she’s the reason I’m an actor.” Jamie’s smile grows, “She did literally everything in the world to support me even though she was a single mother. I never knew my dad though. He left my mom before I was born so he’s never been around.”
“Oh, that sucks, I’m sorry,” Jamie says softly.
“It’s fine. I don’t know him. And from the brief things my mom has said, its probably for the best. And honestly it's okay. Mom’s been more than enough on her own.”
Jamie nods, the smile back on his face. “Okay, anything else you got on that list besides colors and parents?”
“Oh, I have plenty,” you chuckle, “But feel free to ask me anything of your own?”
“Hmm,” Jamie thinks for a second, “What's your favorite flower?”
You look up, amused, “My favorite flower?”
“Yeah. You know that way I can be more specific next time I get you some,”
You once again have to bite back a smile, “Uh, I would say daisies are my favorite flower.” Jamie nods, committing the information to memory, “What about you?”
“Me?” you nod and Jamie doesn’t even hesitate, “I think lilies are nice.”
“Lillies are nice,” you agree, typing it into the doc.
That’s how you spend the next hour or so, asking one another trivia about each other and inputting it into the doc for ease of studying later. You learn about each others childhood pets and the careers you wanted when you were five. You learn each other's favorite foods, stores, bands, as well as the little things you hated. You learned more about his teammates, particularly those closest to him like Sam, Isaac, Colin and Dani. In turn you told him about how Margot was more like a sister to you even if she was technically your employee, as well as your childhood next door neighbor Katie who was still your best friend today.
You only realize you’d been talking for so long when your stomach lets out a growl, and Jamie doesn’t even pretend to courteously not hear it when he lets out a belly laugh.
“Leave me alone, it actually is almost dinner time, dude,” you defend, even though you find yourself laughing along with him.
“Fair point,” he amends when he catches his breath, “Do you want to order in?”
You don’t even protest the idea of prolonging your time together, thoroughly enjoying getting to know him, “Sure. I can order a pizza.”
You start searching local pizza places into Google, when you remember another item of business you had on your list.
“Ooh, that packet on the coffee table is for you.” you nod in the direction of said stack of papers.
Jamie sits up, intrigued by the mysterious document, and picks it up. He squints at the weird legalese, “Is this…a contract?” You nod, “What, you don’t trust me or something?”
“No, it's not that, it's just standard,” you shrug, “It's more or less just to appease my publicist and the like.” Jamie still looks unsure, so you sit up and start flipping pages of the document for him, “Looks, its no big deal. I already signed it myself. It just states we can’t tell anyone about this. Besides, the NDA expires in 5 years anyway. So by that time, I’ll have an Oscar and you’ll be a washed up football player, and no one will believe you if you said anything.”
Jamie huffs, “I want to be offended by that, but you called it football so I’ll accept it.”
You smirk, “See, I’m a fast learner.” Then you settle back into your spot on the couch and carry on ordering pizza.
Jamie looks over the packet again, before siding it was no use tonight, “You mind if I look this over and get it back to you in a few days?”
You nod, “Of course.”
“And your publicist knows? I mean obviously. And assuming Margot knows? Have you told anyone else?” he asks.
“Nope, that’s all,” You answer, “I get it if you want someone to confide in, but I figure the tighter we keep the circle, the better, right?” Jamie nods, “I mean have you told your publicist or professional team?”
Jamie laughs humorlessly, “My publicist is my ex, Keeley.”
You once again look up at him with your mouth agape, “Nooo, how does that happen?”
Jamie shakes his head, “Not intentionally. She took over the club’s PR before I came back to the team and I guess I never thought to find someone else. We became friends, genuine friends, but then everything got tangled up again a few months ago. And yeah. Here we are.”
You look at him for a few seconds before you let out a deep breath, “Well, that all sounds fun. A real incestuous family you got going on over there at AFC Richmond huh?”
Jamie can’t help but laugh along with you, “Yeah, look what you’re marrying into.”
You chuckle, but weirdly you feel your stomach flip at his phrasing. You brush right past it in order to collect his pizza preferences. As you finalize submitting the order, Jamie starts over analyzing your apartment again. This time he’s a bit more nosy and pulls open some of the coffee table drawers. He gasps when he pulls open the second one.
“No way. Please tell me this is yours and it didn’t just come with the place.”
When you look up, he’s holding up a Mario Kart game cover.
You scoff, “Of course that’s mine.”
“I haven’t played this in ages,” Jamie says, studying the back cover.
Another smile plays at your lips. You nod at the TV in front of you, “I can hook up my Switch if you want. It’s been a while since I’ve played with someone other than myself.”
Jamie looks up at you, an excited grin forming on his face. “You’re fucking on.”
And so you spend the next hour competing against Jamie in various Mario Kart races. You play as Toad, naturally. Jamie plays as Princess Peach which makes you laugh. In between rounds, you munch on pizza and breadsticks. You also manage to get to know each other more, and set up ground rules for your charade even as you trash talk one another.
“I feel like the most important is PDA,” you state, somehow managing to focus on not falling off rainbow road while also talking strategy.
“Well, we’ve obviously got to do some of it,” Jamie comments, cursing as he gets hit with a shell, “It would look weird if we didn’t sometimes.”
“Sure, but we’ve gotta have some boundaries. We can’t just be kissing each other willy-nilly.”
Jamie chuckles, “Well, yeah, consent is key.”
Your lips quirk, “I’m completely fine with small things like hugs and hand holding whenever it seems fit.”
“Okay, cool, yeah,” Jamie nods, “And if you’re fine with it, kisses on the cheek are pretty innocent.”
“Yeah,” you nod, swerving to avoid a banana, “But actual kissing…”
Neither of you know how to finish that sentence. However, your race comes to an end. This time you get away with first place, Jamie in second, which you’d be switching between throughout the evening. Without gameplay to distract you, you have to make a decision.
“Maybe we just take it as it comes?” you suggest slowly, “I mean, couples kiss right? So if it feels right in the moment, it's not a big deal for a peck here and there?”
“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, “And if there’s ever a time we need to make a show of it, we check in with each other. Either beforehand, or if its in the moment, we give each other a signal.”
“A signal?”
“Yeah, like we blink twice or something.”
You nod, “Blink twice. Okay. And if we’re ever uncomfortable with something, we just have to communicate with each other, right?”
“Right.” Jamie nods. After a beat, he extends his hand, “Looks like we’re doing this.”
You chuckle, but shake his hand none the less, “We’re doing this.”
You exchange smiles. Now that the sun has gone down, Jamie decides its probably time to head out for the night, feeling like you’d accomplished a lot over the course of the evening.
As you walk him to your door, you ask one last question, “There was actually one more thing I wanted to ask. If you’re free Thursday night, do you want to come to an event with me? Isabel Mercer’s new movie is premiering, and since she’s dating my costar the whole cast is going. Figure it might be a good place to make a public debut?”
Jamie smirks, “A movie premiere? You should have started with that.”
You snort, “Yeah, well, I had to make sure this mock-date went well first.”
“I’d say it went very well, wouldn’t you?” Jamie smiles, “I think we’ve got this shit in the bag.”
You laugh, “So I guess that means you’re in?”
Jamie does a half bow, “I would be honored.”
“Good, because I hate going to these things. I need someone to suffer through it with me.”
Jamie fake-pouts, “Don’t try to make this sound less fun for me.”
You shake your head, and you make your voice really high as you reply, “Don’t worry, it’ll be great!”
Jamie tsks, “You’re gonna have to be better than that when we’re trying to convince the whole world we’re madly in love.”
“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” You tease, opening your front door and gently shoving him towards it.
Jamie turns to you with a smile, “Good night, girlfriend.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes and give him a smile of your own, “Good night, boyfriend.”
Before you can process what he’s doing, he’s leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. Before he completely pulls away, he whispers in your ear, “Google Earth.” He gives you once last smirk before jogging down the steps.
You shake your head as you lock up. This was certainly going to be an experience these next three months.
You flop back down on your couch to review your notes from the evening. After reading through for a few minutes, you remember you hadn’t checked your phone the entire time he was there. Aside from a couple emails and a text from your mom, you didn’t have much since it was a Saturday. However, you also have 2 texts from Margot. The first you had missed from earlier this afternoon, which was a link to tweet from an updates account about you. The tweet contained pictures of Jamie arriving at your flat earlier that day. The second had been sent minutes ago, including a tweet from the same account, this time with pictures of Jamie leaving literally ten minutes ago.
The devil works hard, but paparazzi and stans work harder.
You also realize that Jamie had been right. That smug bastard.
You couldn’t be too annoyed though. The comments under the tweets, even the most recent, were filled with people surprised yet supportive of your coupling. A few even conceding that you did look cute in a relationship. You smile to yourself as you scroll through.
Shit. This was going to work.
a/n: can’t wait to hear what you guys think!!! :))))))
taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @royalestrellas @loveslide @torpedo-belly @skewedcherries @littlemisssunshine192 @hopefulromances @breakmyheartlater @ohpuckyeah @alipap3 @meg-ro @rexorangecouny @pythagothug @bonesbonesetc @xxenia14 @rockchickrebel @thatonedogwithablog @percysaidnever @msjb2002 @loveforaugust @dicgohargreeves @whimsical-roasting @gcidrvsh @lightninginab0ttle it wouldn’t let me tag the last couple of you, but i will keep trying <3
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt x f!reader#jamie tartt x female reader#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction#mine#my writing#behind the scenes series
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OHMYGOD NEW BLOG THAT WRITES FOR TWO OF MY FAVOURITES??:!189( SCREAMS
anyways is it okay if you just do some silly relationship hcs with joonyeong (aouad) and jaeheon (sweet home) separately I WILL LITERALLY CRY TEARS OF JOY
relationship hcs x
joonyeong x reader; jaeheon x reader (separate)
summary: relationship hcs for joonyeong (aouad) & jaeheon (sweet home)
warning(s): series typical warnings!
note(s): anon based on this request i think u have a type.. side eye.. can’t blame u tho uptight dorks with wire framed glasses are hot ! hope u enjoy lovely :) and ty for being my first request on this blog!! i thought i’d have to put some fics out before i got any so this is rly encouraging. i appreciate you!
joonyeong
such a little nerd
definitely started out as good friends
absurdly proud of the fact that he has a partner
like… him?? he feels so special
(he is)
study dates where he actually intends to study and you distract him the whole time by begging for kisses and sitting on his lap etc
sometimes he caves, sometimes he doesn’t, he takes his academics seriously
but idk the image of you wrapping your arms around his neck and telling him to take a break with you during exams week.. lord….
“i miss my boyfriend”
“we’ve been together for the past three hours”
“but you’ve not been paying any attention to me! :(“
he does help you with work though, he thinks it’s really important
your parents adore him, they think he’s a great influence on you (even if you’re also great at school)
he’s the type to think the secretly hate him, though, so you often go over to his to spend time with each other
really enjoys going to whatever events you’re involved in
even if he doesn’t understand jack shit about any of it
remembers really specific and small details about you for sure
very eager to introduce you to people as “my girlfriend/boyfriend/partner!”
really proud of you and your relationship–does not try to hide that he’s taken
but he overall prefers private intimacy and affection
and very small, gentle forms of it at that
you can fluster him pretty easily tho
i can definitely see a friendly academic rivals to lovers situation happening
when the virus breaks out he never lets you out of his sight
cliché, but if you’re ever accused of being infected, he’s defending you with his life
when you can’t sleep he holds you, which doesn’t make you sleep but it is comforting
tries his hardest to tell you how important you are to him very often while everything is happening
first (and last) l-word is said when he decides to jump out of the barricade to save everyone (sorry ouch)
jaeheon
wholesome wholesome wholesome
he admires you so much
you probably meet in the elevator
he tries talking to you about his lord and savior–you think it’s really endearing how passionate he is
genuinely believes god sent you to him personally like an angel
just always smiling with you
holding hands everywhere you go
very often being mistaken for a married couple when you’re out and even by neighbors
(hyein starts telling people you’re married, and referring to you as ‘that married couple’)
likes holding your face and just admiring you, pressing little kisses to every spot he can think of
basically worships you
not the type to get flustered, per-say but he does get very hesitant and shy about certain levels of intimacy
hugging you from behind and pressing kisses to your shoulder, up your neck and to the top of your head. omg
just very traditionally romantic in the ways he shows you affection
kissing your hand, getting you flowers often, opening the car door for you, etc
biggest gentleman
when you get locked in the apartment building, he becomes bolder, or at least less hesitant about things
literally would die to protect you (and he does)
is always holding onto you in some way in low-intensity situations
the thought of you asking him to teach you how to use his sword, and he does that cute thing where when he goes to teach you, he stands behind you and holds your hands and arms to show you IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES
forehead kisses. that’s it just forehead kisses
when either of you are given a task, he always makes sure to hold you for at least a minute or two before he leaves. in case it’s the last time (sobs)
really good friends with jisu during the lock-in
you two find comfort in each other after he’s gone (NOT LIKE THAT) ((but also maybe like that idk im not the boss of you))
#aouad#all of us are dead#sweet home#aouad x reader#all of us are dead x reader#sweet home x reader#joonyeong#joonyeong aouad#joonyeong all of us are dead#jaeheon#jaeheon sweet hime#joonyeong x reader#jaeheon x reader#hcs#headcanons#x reader#relationship headcanons#kdrama#kdrama x reader
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Simon Petrikov x Reader
Nostalgia
summary: a short but sweet one shot in which you’re simon’s neighbor, a human. and human’s in a post apocalyptic world can find funny ways to connect
warnings: usage of beautiful but not gender specific, the briefest mention of 9/11????
word count: 1.3k
author’s note: i really want to see more simon x reader so i’ll be the change i want to see in the world /j but anyway this isn’t the fic i had the dream about but something different also if you spot the djats reference i will give you a million kisses also PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND IN REQUESTS!!!
You stroll outside, shutting the door behind you and it’s sunny. It’s nice, it’s not blinding and the wind is blowing a slight chill. You make your way to the side of your house where your trash cans are and immediately see something in the window next door. Your neighbor is sitting there reading. You look down for a moment and when you look back up, he’s looking back. You wave and smile to not be mean or anything and he puts up his pointer finger before setting his book down and walking away.
Fuck. You didn’t want to interact with him today. And maybe not ever. It’s not anything personal. You mean it in the most honest way that anyone could mean it when you say that it’s not him, it’s you. It feels too awkward. Is he gonna talk about the Ice King? Is he gonna cry if it gets brought up?
Within seconds, his door is open and he steps down into the grass between the houses. He walks closer and smiles at you again despite the slightly awkward silence and the crunching of the grass as he walks closer.
“Hi, neighbor.” He grins.
“Hi, how’s it going?” You calmly reply.
“Good, good. Have we met?” He asks.
“Um…sort of.” You tilt your head and squint the slightest bit.
“Was I…” He starts but can’t seem to finish, it’s too much.
“Yeah.” You nod awkwardly.
“Oh. Well, I hope I- he, didn’t make too bad of an impression.” He laughs nervously.
“He kind of did but you’re doing well so far.” You laugh and he can’t help but join, looking at the ground for a moment.
“You’re human, right?” He asks.
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I’m a witch. A human witch.” She explains.
“Is that how you survived the mushroom war?” He asks.
“No, I just stood out in the open and yelled until anyone and everyone could hear me and come find me.” You smirk.
“Really? That doesn’t sound like it would help you at all.” His face is pure and utter confusion.
“I was kidding. I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N.” You reach your hand out to him.
“I’m Dr. Simon Petrikov. It’s nice to meet you, I’ve seen you through the window but I’ve never said hi or anything. That wasn’t meant to be creepy, I just mean, shit. You leave the blinds open a lot and I like to read by my window. I’m aware that this doesn’t sound any less creepy than before, I’m sorry.” He sighs.
“Well, Dr. Simon Petrikov, it’s nice to meet you too. And it’s a good thing I’m usually fully clothed then or else this would probably be more awkward. Anyway, I’ll be right back, I’m gonna take these out.” You point to the trash and recycling bins.
“Here, I can help.” He puts one hand on the trash can, ready to pull it.
“Oh, thank you.” You smile before putting your hand on the recycling can.
You silently drag the cans onto the driveway and then to the end. He watches you in the corner of his eye as they do. You’re beautiful. And maybe it’s just the way the sun is shining to make you look effortlessly radiant but you look incredible. He had noticed that about you before but never like this.
You look at him as the two of you leave them at the end with a smile. And you do it with no shame. You look at him and smile like you’ve never had to worry about the awkward dance of one person looking and the other looking away, that whole back and forth. Like you’ve got this natural way of holding his gaze, as if it's a secret language only you share, leaving him silently longing for that same self-assured charm. You’re pulling him in like a moth to a flame. And it’s so weird, he doesn’t understand it.
“Do you know a lot about me already?” He abruptly turns to ask you as you place the bins side by side.
“Should I?” You ask with the smallest laugh that pulls him in more.
“I- I don’t know.” He shrugs.
“Are you busy right now? Other than the reading and watching me by the window?” You joke.
“No, I’m not just, and I’m sorry about that again.” He replies sheepishly.
“Wanna get breakfast with me? Or coffee? Whatever it is that you take with your books.” You grin.
“That would be nice,” A small smile grows across his face. “There’s a good mom-and-pop place down the road if you want to go there.”
“Okay, cool. Let me just go get my bag.” You nod before quickly turning to go back to your house. You do a quick little run to the door before shutting it. Simon just uses this opportunity to make sure he doesn’t forget his wallet inside.
“Table for two?” The hostess asks and Simon almost shivers. He hasn’t heard that in a minute. You nod with a hum and a smile before the older woman grabs two menus and silverware wrapped in napkins.
She leads the way to a small booth by a window, showing the beautiful day outside. You slide into the booth as Simon does the same across from you. Their waitress immediately asks for your drink orders while placing the menus down.
“I’ll just have coffee, please.” Simon smiles.
“Can I please have an iced tea with three lemons?” You ask and Simon can’t help but smile wider before the waitress heads back to the kitchen.
“Three lemons? That’s specific.”’
“Iced tea, three lemons. Club soda, two limes. Martini with two olives and an onion. I'm particular about my drinks,” She laughs. “I'm particular about a lot of things.”
“I am too. Just wait until my coffee gets here.” He grins.
He plays into your every word, your every topic of conversation. You remind him of home. Of the way things used to be before the mushroom war. And you have this confidence that he can’t understand. In simpler terms, you’re absolutely enchanting him.
The conversation is effortless. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the back and forth and talk about things from your past. Things that no one else here could possibly remember. The nonsensical chatter is addicting to him. He hates to admit it but damn, has he missed feeling human.
You talk about what could be considered the dumbest things. You discuss the best and the worst of the nineties. Your favorite shows, songs, movies, just anything and everything pop culture. You even, of course, had to talk about the mandatory question of where you were during 9/11. Simon was always so focused on other things, he’s never talked about pop culture like this. But because no one ever understands certain niche things from the past, he’s bringing up everything.
Simon would be the last person you’d expect to even say the name Paris Hilton but in a few minutes, he’s talking about her. But he admittedly doesn’t have too much to say about things that aren’t in his line of work or other more academic things. Once the OJ Simpson trial gets brought up, he has more to say.
Your food comes and goes, neither of you really caring about that. You get wrapped up in this. You talk and talk and talk and it never seems to run dry. It’s nice.
“This has been…incredible.” Simon sighs.
“It really has been. I miss talking about stupid shit like this.” You laugh.
“I didn’t even realize how much I missed it until today.” He can’t help but smile at you.
“We should do this again. This was…really nice.” You tell him.
“I would love to.”
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Hi!! Hope you're doing good, this is for the prompt request, raph with number 10 on color blue (miscellaneous), where reader lives near where the turtles live (not in the sewers lol), and everytime he goes on a mission or just walk close to their house, he starts to crush on them, so when his brothers found out they try to perform a date, but since raph is some shy, it doesn't go as planned (even that reader is really charmed by raph personality and in some time they start to crush on raph too and more time later they start a relationship), sorry if is really long, just some fluff for the raph boi <33, I really love your writing and i hope you do good, thanks for your time and also that if you don't feel like doing this you can pass for it, don't worry :)) (forgot to mention thst this is situated after the kraang situation so reader don't get a little freaked out about raph)
A very special mission (rottmnt Raph x reader)
prompt 10: "Abort mission, I repeat abort mission.” “What? Abort what mission? All you were doing was introducing yourself to your neighbor?” “Yeah, and they’re too attractive. I can never speak to them again.”
summary: Raph gets a crush on reader and April sets up a meeting.
relationship: Rise!Raph x GN reader
warnings: none, fluff!
word count: ~910
A/N: i have to admit this one was one of the more difficult ones for me, it’s been in my wips for so long! i ended up changing the dialogue slightly to fit the scenario better. hope you still like it!!<3
(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)
— — —
It had been around 3 weeks since the Krang invasion and the city was recovering slowly but surely. Many buildings that had been destroyed by the aliens were almost done being rebuilt. With every day that passed there were less and less construction sites and scaffoldings to be seen.
After the invasion, the everyday routine resumed fairly quickly. You kept going to class and your part-time job as always. But lately you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You tried to shrug it off and went on your way.
Above you on a roof, from within the shadows, a certain ninja was keeping an eye on you.
Raph had been watching you for some time now. Because of the repairs after New York’s partial destruction, the turtle brothers had to change their patrol route, and that’s when he had spotted you talking to your friends on the street.
It had been like love at first sight for Raph. Ever since seeing you that day, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even after the repairs were done and he could have gone back to their normal route, he’d always make a quick escapade to your street, hoping to see you.
One night he was escorting you home from afar (unbeknownst to you) after work, and you ran into April on the street. You two greeted each other like you were friends and had a quick chat, then went along your way.
The next day, Raph basically interrogated April about you. It turned out you had actually been friends for a long time, but you had moved away for some years, and now came back. She just hadn’t had the time to catch up with you yet and introduce everyone.
Hearing this, and knowing that Raph had a massive crush on you, the other turtles all but begged April to set you up with him somehow. It didn’t take much convincing at all, because she was actually planning on doing so sooner or later. She was convinced you’d get along really well, with all of them.
So when April asked you if you were up to meeting a friend of hers, you said yes. You were kinda intrigued at how mysterious everything was about the meet-up. She wouldn’t tell you much about this person other than his and his brothers’ names, and that he was a really good guy.
You were told to wait on a street that wasn’t busy at night-time. If April hadn’t been there waiting with you, you would have had second thoughts about meeting a stranger in a deserted place like this. But she was confident that you’d like her friend, so you waited expectantly.
The turtles were waiting on a rooftop across the street, and Raph was half-way down the fire escapes when he suddenly stopped. He clenched and unclenched his fists in annoyance at himself, trying to calm down his pounding heart. Isn’t this what he had been waiting for for weeks? To finally meet you face to face and talk to you? All his pining came down to a boil within him, evaporating immediately, leaving him only with uncertainty.
Looking around, you turned to look at either side of the road, your form illuminated by a streetlamp. Raph’s breath hitched when he noticed that you had actually chosen a nice outfit to come out here; it wasn’t your usual clothes you wore to go to work and back.
You had dressed up for him and he was too much of a coward to go say hello.
With a groan, he buried his face into his hands.
April was starting to wonder why Raph was taking so long. She gave you an apologetic look and was about to contact him with her turtle comm, when it beeped in her pocket.
"Abort mission, I repeat abort mission” came a voice through the device.
“What? Abort what mission, Raph?” said someone else. “All you were gonna do was introduce yourself to April’s friend?”
“Yeah Leo, and they’re too attractive. I’ll never be able to speak to them.”
What Raph had forgotten was that April was also connected to their call, so you had heard everything.
Heat rised to your cheeks at Raph’s comment. But you did like his voice, it was kind. So with a sudden burst of confidence, you took April’s device from her hands just as she was about to reply (probably reprimanding him about leaving you out here when he wouldn’t even show up).
“C’mon Raph” you called to him, then switched to a more flirtatious tone. “Let me see you… I don’t bite.”
You heard a clatter somewhere on the building near you, where Raph was holding onto the railing for dear life after almost falling down, face as red as his bandana.
– – –
Bonus: (a couple of weeks later, after you two started dating)
“Hey, remember when you were too scared to come meet me for the first time that night?” you asked Raph with a playful tone, lightly jabbing your elbow into his side.
“Ugh, yes” he responded, looking to the side for a second with flushed cheeks. “I was scared out of my shell to be honest… I still don't entirely understand how I managed to snatch you but I'm glad I did.”
You merely smirked at him. He sighed.
“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“Heh, nope” you said, leaning up to place a smooch on the tip of this beak.
#goose feathers#500 goslings event#rottmnt#save rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the tmnt x reader#tmnt x reader#rottmnt x reader#tmnt 2018#rottmnt raph x reader#raphael x reader#rise raph x reader
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@cozycornerkinktober ’s prompt #3: Breeding/pregnancy
Deleted scene from The Selfish Gene (Butchlander)
Warnings: Let’s see. Homelander is pregnant. Homelander has both male and female equipment. He’s carrying Billy Butcher’s child. If that sounds inexplicable, well, it all makes perfect sense in the fic (or not). This deleted scene is supposed to be comedy, but ymmv. Could also be horror.
Inspired by the finale of a long conversation about mpreg with chatlander:
“What’re you always checking in there?” Billy asks. Homelander shifts his gaze off of his belly —off of Lena’s innocent adorable little face— and turns his attention to Billy who’s sprawled out on the bed, underneath him. It’s true that he got distracted, even while moving up and down his cock.
“Nothing. I can’t take a look at my baby once in a while?”
“Look, you asked to f—”
Homelander shushes him. “Stop swearing, she can hear.”
Billy raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You think she’s gonna pop out of you preloaded with all sorts of curse words she heard?”
“Maybe!” Homelander glares. “Just because most babies don’t learn, doesn’t mean she won’t.”
“Alright, in any case, you’re the one who wants to get it on, and then the entire time we’re doing it, you’re staring down at her, and- you’re flippin’ doing it again! While I’m talking to you!”
Homelander shifts his gaze off of her.
“Is she able to look clean through your skin or something?” Billy asks and Homelander’s eyes flee to the side in spite of himself.
“What? No…” he says, trying to sound neutral but he can hear he’s protesting a little too much. He guesses that telling Billy this sort of truth would be offputting. “No, what makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve been babytalking to your stomach and making faces as if she’s looking at you the last few days.”
Homelander gets a guilty look. He’s been less circumspect than he thought, because a few days ago, he feels like his relationship with Lena changed dramatically.
~~~
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten cottage cheese in my life,” Homelander grumbled as he peered into the container he just opened. It smelled strange, and it looked lumpy. “You better have wanted this, because I have no idea what possessed me to order it otherwise,” he said. He talked to Lena throughout the day, whenever Billy wasn’t home. He knew it would sound a little bit insane to any bystander. Maybe it was a way of coping with his sense of loneliness, but it was a vast improvement over how he used to talk to himself, in the bad room, and then later on in his own apartment. He’s left that behind with Vought. He’d never be unkind to his own child. Lena might not talk back, or respond in any way really, but that was fine by him. She should be able to hear him now, if the info online and in the baby books was to be believed. And if she was anything like him, she might also be hearing the neighbor three floors up and two to the right having an irritatingly vacuous conversation over the phone discussing some reality show finale.
He dipped the spoon in and tried the cottage cheese. “It’s not that bad actually,” he said through a mouthful. He took the entire container with him and put his feet up on the coffee table to alleviate some of the swelling in his ankles. The cottage cheese hit some weird spot he didn’t know he even had just right. He ended up eating the entire container. “Good choice, baby,” he said, smiling, and glanced down only to see Lena’s upturned face, eyes wide open and staring up at him through the veils of amniotic fluid, tissue, skin. He felt a little taken aback at how penetrating and focused her gaze was. He moved his hand toward her, then moved it to the side and waved it. Lena’s eyes tracked it perfectly.
“Holy sh- smokes. Hi baby,” he whispered, breath catching when he saw her swivel her head back up towards him. “I’m not even sure your eyes are supposed to be open yet,” he said to no one in particular. She was definitely on the early side for every milestone, but babies allegedly didn’t focus their eyes until after they were born. Babies also probably didn’t see much inside the womb without penetrative vision though.
“Maybe we won’t tell your other daddy about this. He might get weirded out,” Homelander said to her, conspiratorially, as if she might understand him.
Billy might say he’s fine with the idea of their daughter having all the superpowers he has, but Homelander didn’t want to push it any more than necessary. All in due time. His super senses were the powers ordinary people seemed most worried about, somehow. He looked down and Lena was staring up at him again. She definitely seemed particularly interested in his face.
“You’re adorable. I love you so much,” he said, shivering because now it really felt like he was talking to a real person. He kissed his fingertips and touched them to his belly. Lena blinked. “Can’t wait to hold you.”
~~~
“I’m just- I’m pretending she can see and hear me. It’s for my own sake. She’ll be out in a couple of months, anyway.”
Billy raises his eyebrows, tilting his head and Homelander can’t stand it, not when they agreed not to lie to each other, and Billy seems to have a pretty good sense when he’s lying.
“Okay, fine, yes, she can see me, and she looks up at me a lot, and it’s really hard to ignore her. So sue me.”
“And you still want to do this?”
“Well why not?”
“I don’t know.” Billy grimaces. “It feels wrong to have her coming along for the ride if she can see and hear everything.”
Homelander scoffs. “She’s not going to know what we’re doing.”
“And yet she’ll remember the word ‘fuck’?”
“Fine! Say whatever you want.” Homelander rolls his eyes. “God forbid I stifle your self-expression by cutting a few words out of your vocabulary.”
“Those few words are very useful and versatile.”
Homelander cracks a smile. He tries to start moving up and down again, but Billy seems to have gone soft inside him, and he opts to squeeze him with some kegels, and just tilt his hips back and forth instead. Billy runs his hands up Homelander’s kneeling legs, and ends up holding his hips, tapping his fingers against his lovehandles.
Maybe it’s a bad position. Homelander’s hips have started to ache if he puts them under any kind of pressure. The doctor said it was supposed to happen— that all of his joints are looser at this stage of pregnancy, but especially his hip joints. Knowing it’s from pregnancy makes him sort of relish those aches though. He starts to move himself up and down, now that Billy’s body is back in the game. At least he tends to have powerful orgasms when his thigh muscles are working hard. He’s soon distracted by Lena looking around.
“Stop looking at her, you’re throwing me off,” Billy grumbles. “Now I’m wondering where she’s looking.”
“She just looks… a little scared… about why everything is… bouncing around her…” Homelander says between movements. Then his voice changes as he looks at her. “Baby, don’t be scared…” He rubs his belly.
“Oi, this just isn’t going to work. I can’t look at you baby talking to her and just keep going.”
“Well, tough, she’s my priority, and she will be for the foreseeable future. If she’s scared of our sex, I’m going to comfort her.”
“She’s not the only one scared of our sex right now.”
“Oh boo-fucking-hoo,” Homelander says, not catching himself before saying the f word because he’s fed up with Billy’s arbitrary turnoffs. He pulls himself up off of Billy’s cock, and lies down beside him, turned to the wall.
“You cross with me?” Billy asks, and he does sound apologetic.
“No, just... do it from behind. That way you don’t have to see me watching her.”
“You even want this?” Billy asks, positioning himself and slowly entering him from behind.
“Yes I want this!” Homelander says impatiently. He’s been pretty sexually frustrated, easily turned on throughout the day by the extra blood that seems to just hang out around his uterus and pelvis. But jacking off was becoming physically awkward, to the point where he’s found it easier to reach behind, and snake his hand between his legs and stroke his dick or clit that way. But Billy can’t possibly guess all of that. So he tacks on a quiet ‘please’, and sighs happily when Billy grips his thigh and starts to move.
AO3 link
#cozy corner kinktober#butchlander#homelander#billy butcher#mpreg#the selfish gene#mystuff#fic#the boys#the boys tv
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Here’s a wholesome Charlie and Mammon idea I’ve had for a while:
Often when Mammon babysat little Charlie, she’d more or less climb all over him like a little monkey or have him carry her around like the little princess she was. This would frequently lead to Mammon have to go about his day with Charlie perched on his shoulder or sleeping on top of his head. None of Mammon’s employees or servants would comment on this for fear of provoking him and the other Sins (and Lilith) would either fawn or jealously fume at the sight.
Going off of the above, I can also imagine a young Charlie laying on a Mammon’s stomach, My Neighbor Totoro-style.
YESSS!!!!!💚💚💚
Mam is a soft lad and a loving uncle. I love the idea of him being Charlie's favorite pillow, so forgive for ranting about it with the following HCs.
The Sins had a rough schedule for when they would babysit and Charlie would get super pouty when Mammon could make it.
I like to think that out of all her aunts and uncles, Mam talked to Charlie the most when she was just starting to talk and one day she called him "Unky" and he damn near sobbed on the spot.
The nickname stuck over the years and made the others, especially Ozz, really butthurt. Example:
----
*during a meeting*
Amsodeus: So, Luci, need me to fill in tonight?
Lucifer: Oh, no, that reminds me actually, Mammon, do you think you could look after Charlie tonight, she really wants to see you again.
Mammon: Sure, love t-
Asmodeus: Hold the fucking phone, what do you mean she "wants to see him"? How do you know that? She can barely speak!
Lucifer: She drew this. *Pulls out a drawing with a little red triangle labeled "ME" and a bunch of green triangle labeled "Unky"*
Mammon: Aww... Can I keep it.
Lucifer: No. This is going on the fridge.
*after the meeting*
Asmodeus: Why do you get to be Unky? >:{
Mammon: Cuz I'm her favorite. >8)
Amsodeus: No you're not! (Author's note, yes he is)
----
Another idea I had was that when Charlie's a little older her private tutors would give her homework and she'd always work on her math when Mam was looking after her.
Since Mam's the businessman to end all businessmen he sure as shit wasn't gonna let his niece be bad at math. He'd keep her company while she was doing her homework and give her some tips if she got stuck, without just telling her the answer. Usually they would do this routine while he was laying down and holding any books Charlie wasn't currently using as Charlie laid on top of him.
I know this was way more than you asked for but I love the money spider and think about him probably more than is healthy.
#helluva boss#hellaverse#hazbin hotel#hb Mammon#helluva Mammon#hellaverse Mammon#hh Charlie#hazbin Charlie#hellaverse Charlie#hb Asmodeus#helluva Asmodeus#hellaverse Asmodeus#hh Lucifer#hazbin Lucifer#hellaverse Lucifer#hb headcanon#hh headcanon#helluva headcanon#hazbin heacanon#hb headcanons#helluva headcanons#hh headcanons#hazbin headcanons#Ramses Answers#Mammonposting
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Hello! Glad to see this!
In that case I'd be happy to request for Valeria with a bestie readerrr YESYESSS😈😈
Tbh I've been starving for this for months.
Idk, just them bonding so well, maybe the reader is in the cartel with her, or is a simple civilian that valeria ended up being deeply fond of!
A kind-hearted and kinda dumb-ish(not naive though) reader and her just being like, "[name], please💀"
And reader having this really gen-z-ish humor, i just think she'd be so confused and pissed cuz she doesn't get the joke sometimes. Maybe reader is just like 2-1 year(s) less than her? + If they're hispanic too!😭😭😭
Sorry for my rambling💀💀💀
OH MY GOD HELLO AGAIN!!!! I LOVED WRITINF THIS SO MUCH I WAS ON A RAMPAGE 😭😭😭 I hope you enjoy this just as much as I enjoyed writing this!! Thanks for requesting babes!!!
Valeria Garza
Where do I START.
So, first, you’re Latino. Duh.
You’re a civilian that was lucky enough to meet Valeria.
You two probably met while getting coffee. You thought she looked pretty, so you complimented her.
“Hola, nada mas quería decirte que me gusta tu cabello!”
She was a little confused why a random person just complimented her hair. She still liked it, nonetheless.
“..Gracias.”
You were a little scared that you made her u comfortable, and after you got what you wanted from the cafe, you went home to cry.
“SOY TAN TONTA. OSÉA!”
You went back to the cafe, since it was your regular spot to just hang out to read a book. You were familiar with most of the employees.
And then, you saw HER.
YOU SAW VALERIA.
You didn’t know if you should just go up to her and apologized while making yourself look even more stupid, or just sit there.
She just SUDDENLY SAT DOWN IN FRONT OF YOU AND YOUR MIND WENT INTO PANIC MODE.
“AY! Oh. Hola!”
She just chuckled and said hi back.
And that’s how your closest friendship bloomed.
Since you’re younger than her, it’s most likely your humor is pretty deranged.
You’ll send her random pictures of god knows what, and say hi right after.
“[Name], por favor.”
You text her super late at night, like three AM.
“Si no te chingo por despertándome en las tres de la mañana–”
Either that or you rant about how you’re glad that she’s your friend because you just finished watching a super sad movie.
“[Name], are you fucking crying.”
You playfully scold her everytime she curses. Which is like in every sentence.
You’re a little dumb, so you end up being pretty clumsy. Without her, you’d be dead by now.
She uses that against you every time you don’t wanna do a favor for her.
“Remember that one time I saved your ass from falling face-first into the concrete? Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”
You aren’t aware of her being the leader of the cartel that has corrupted Las Almas. So sometimes she’s hesitant with you.
She won’t respond to your messages for days due to work, so you end up worrying about her. If you ask her why she was gone for so long then she just responds with, “I was pretty busy.”
But she makes it up by hanging out with you for a while, specifically drinking.
On a similar note, you invite her over to have a few drinks with her. Just chill.
When you drink, you become more jokeful and just insane overall.
“Haha, kinda wanna kill myself. Anyways, how’s your day?”
Sometimes concerned with your humor. Can’t tell if it’s just how Gen Z humor is or if you’re that mentally I’ll.
And whenever you two drink together, you guys turn into those Latina moms that will go insane at parties. (I have a good amount of experience with this as a Latino myself.)
Dancing together, blasting music, it’s entertaining.
You also end up talking about chisme.
“Did you hear that my neighbors just got a divorce?”
“Dime más.”
And whenever she goes to your house, she always has a gift. Especially an expensive one.
It can be from some good wine, to straight up clothes and perfumes.
“How did you get the right size?”
“… Instinct.”
(She somehow got information about you.)
Valeria just hopes that she can keep you safe from her job, and doesn’t get you killed. She tries to avoid starting anything that’s super close to you.
#modern warfare 2#mw2 x reader#modern warfare#cod#call of duty mw2#valeria garza x reader#valeria garza#gender neutral reader
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hi jeanie!! i was wondering if u had any thoughts on what the quarry counselors' favorite nintendo franchises might me?
-cas @chrashley :)
Hi Cas! 🥰 Ooh I love this question! I tried to stick with games I’m familiar with but there's a couple I've never played myself. That being said I'd be interested to hear what other's think in case I missed anything 👀
Abi - Animal Crossing, she enjoys more cozy games and it would bring out her artistic side, creating her own clothes and decorating her house/town/island. She doesn’t do anything extravagant but she plays a fair amount, she enjoys bug catching and visiting her favorite neighbors with gifts.
Dylan - The Legend of Zelda, nice mix of puzzles, action, and music depending on the game. He gets really into the new mechanics in BOTW and TOTK, going from creating really intricate mechanics to designing dick shaped machines. Perhaps projecting but I’d say he’d have a soft spot for Twilight Princess (you can hold and talk to cats!)
Kaitlyn - Splatoon, the shooter of the Nintendo franchises. She meticulously goes through all the weapons in order to pick the best one depending on specials and sub weapons (she strikes me as a sniper). She also loves the idols and music and designing her squid with all the fresh fashion choices. She definitely makes it to ruler rank whenever she participates in Splatfests (and claims bullshit if her team loses).
Ryan - Pokemon, perhaps inspired by Justice being in Detective Pikachu, but as an aspiring animator he’d be interested in all the different Pokemon designs. When Ryan builds his team he gets really attached to them. He’d never attempt a nuzlocke, he’s sticking with his whole team til the end. He of course loves the ghost types, but I think he’d also have something like Loudred or Golbat, something audio/sound related. He definitely plays a lot with Sarah.
Emma - Metroid, Emma is resourceful, working well under pressure and able to adapt to situations quickly, so when she takes the controller for Metroid she effortlessly switches from platforming to shooting, completely tearing the alien enemies to shreds. She loves Samus and probably got into the series for the leading lady. One of her favorite elements is the morph ball, but the arm canon might have it beat.
Jacob - WarioWare, while a more competitive game may seem like Jacob’s first choice I think if he had to choose a favorite he’d prefer the quick micro games that WarioWare has to offer. It’s fun, fast, no time to think just DO. He also really enjoys the zany humor and eccentric characters. It’s also a plus to play with others and can somehow still turn competitive, especially when playing with Nick.
Nick - Pikmin, Nick likes to go with the flow so he'd like something less fast paced but still something with some strategy. I think he'd find assigning Pikmin with their different abilities to various tasks satisfying. Since he also loves nature he'd enjoy the exploration element, as well. And really he just thinks the Pikmin are cute.
Laura - Animal Crossing, since she’s interested in veterinary science she’d probably enjoy the animal characters, Max most likely introduces her to the game for that reason. However, unlike Abi she plays it more seriously. She has to complete every task, pop every balloon, and fill the entire museum with every collectible. She has to stop playing when it cuts time into her personal productivity. She has a 5 star island.
Max - Yoshi, Max is definitely not a competitive player, he plays games that are more chill. He enjoys the straightforward mechanics of swallow enemies, throw eggs/yarn, with nothing too punishable or frustrating like with other tenser games. The vibrant, colorful world definitely doesn’t hurt with all the cute smiling flowers, shy guys on stilts, and most importantly: Poochy.
All the counselors love Mario Party and Mario Kart, some less so than others as the game progresses and they continue to lose (Jacob).
#the quarry#abigail blyg#dylan lenivy#kaitlyn ka#ryan erzahler#emma mountebank#jacob custos#nick furcillo#laura kearney#max brinly#almost gave nick star fox or donkey kong#emma was gonna be princess peach showtime but metroid kept calling to me#abi also gives me kirby vibes
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The song of the waves
Your attempt to end your life was unsuccessful, and you were left to continue your less meaningful life, but then the one who saved you came for a visit, and a promise was made.
Requested by Anon
Hi! Saw your requests were open so I hope I made it in time to be one of the 7 - can I request a continuation/next chapter to the song of the waves series? I really want to see what happens next with mermaid Maglor x reader uwu.
Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, scolding, getting grounded, angsty thoughts, energetic dog, social awkwardness, promises, and songs.
Chapter 4
----------------------------
The ocean was calm, and the city of Tirion brimmed with life. Mers and other creatures alike went peacefully along with their day, doing errands and greeting their neighbors. Nothing seemed to be out of place.
A loud shout was heard across the royal palace, stopping servants and guards in their tasks as they looked up in confusion and startle.
“You did what?!”
Makalaure, his brothers, and Angarato flinched from the loud tone of Nerdanel, Makalaure’s mother, who was the first to scold them after they returned from their adventure outside Tirion. Feanor Makalaure’s father was on the side with Angarato’s parents, watching him and his brothers with a disappointed look.
“Let me get this straight— you interacted with a human?” Nerdanel questioned.
“Makalaure. It was already bad you, your brothers, and your cousin spent the night outside meddling with a human. But you stayed the night in a human city?!” Nerdanel questioned, “My sweet son, there is a reason why they are considered dangerous,”
Tyelko leaned closer to Makalaure. “Maybe we should not have told them about the whole rescue thing–” he whispered. Makalaure only rolled his eyes before looking back at their mother.
“Do you have any idea what might have happened if other less good-willed humans spotted you and your brothers?” Nerdanel continued.
“Alright, Amme, Atar,” Makalaure started. “I’ll take the full blame over the incident. It’s just there was something wrong with the human we encountered last night. She tried to drown herself. She was obviously not okay, so that’s why I tried to help her,” he explained, and his mother fell silent.
“Oh? It was that kind of thing…” Nerdanel’s gaze softened. Feanor then swam beside her, laying his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner before looking at Makalaure.
"You did something well-intentioned, son. However, it was still reckless of you and your brothers to spend the night near a human city. You would have risked your own lives if things had ended differently,” Feanor stated. Makalaure looked down in shame after his father's sentence.
"Therefore, as your punishment, you shall not leave Tirion for any reason for the next two months. This also applies to the rest of you," he said, glancing at his brothers and cousin.
“Wait! I can still go hunting, right?” Tyelko quickly asked. “No–not even hunts. Instead of being the responsible one, you followed along and indulged in the whole thing,” Feanor answered, making Tyelko quietly curse and whine.
“Your cousin will take punishment from his own parents. Now, is this understood?” Feanor stated.
“Yes—” his sons answered quietly.
“Good. Now go,” Feanor said, and everyone began leaving the main hall. Makalaure swam through the corridors after bidding farewell to Angarato, and the twins went to do their own things. Tyelko swam over him.
“Well, that went a bit better than expected, even though I got grounded from going to hunts,” Tyelko stated. “Like that has ever stopped you from going to hunt…” Makalaure answered indifferently.
“So… what’s next?” Tyelko asked. Makalaure stopped to look at his brother. “What do you mean what’s next?” he inquired.
“You’re still worried about the human, right?” Tyelko asked back. “You have been brooding ever since we left the human city, so you’re still worried about your rescued princess,” he smirked. “What did you two talk about that got you so worried?”
“I… I don’t know. I’m not really allowed to go check on her anytime soon,” Makalaure replied.
“So– you are planning to go see her again?” Tyelko’s smirk became wider.
“Only to check she has not tried to drown herself again. I don’t think you would want our old hideout to become a graveyard now, do you?” Makalaure asked.
"Well, true, but maybe it's also because you're worried about her well-being. She did seem like she was not all right in her head," Tyelko tapped his own head as an example, then began swimming away. "Anyway, do let me know when you go outside again. I'd be curious to see her again too," he called out as he disappeared around the corner.
Makalaure stood quiet, alone in the corridor. His mind was filled with thoughts of you, the way you spoke, and the look in your eyes, so devoid of joy and life. He hoped in the deepest parts of his heart that you were doing better than the last time you met and you had not tried to take your life again now that he wasn’t there.
He shook his head and journeyed to his room. Maybe he should try to check on you tomorrow — just to be sure.
You opened the door to your house. The door creaked as you walked in and then closed it behind you. The house was quiet as usual, but when you dropped the keys on the table, your ears caught loud footsteps and an excited bark.
You smiled when you saw your dog, Max, bounce at you with a toothy grin.
"Max..." you crouched down to hug him as he jumped into your arms and began to lick your face. "Max. No—" Delighted giggles escaped you as you nearly fell to the floor under his weight.
You sat down and began petting him, slowly running your fingers through his long white-gray fur.
As Max laid his head on your lap, staring at you with those adoring eyes, memories of the previous night rushed back to you.
Emotions and feelings welled up from within, compelling you to release the tears you had tried to hold back.
You sniffed as you began to cry.
"I'm sorry, Max. I'm so... sorry," Max whined when he noticed the sudden change in your mood. "I...did something really stupid, something stupid and selfish," you choked as Max began to paw you, trying to comfort you as your tears moved freely.
You chuckled as you grabbed one of his paws and held on to it, looking into his eyes that were filled with worry.
"Oh, Max..." You wrapped your arms around him and held him tight, crying on him as he stood still while wagging his tail.
"I'm so sorry. I was gonna leave you behind," you cried then looked at him.
"Luckily... someone saved me," you sniffed, "...someone unnatural," your mind returned to the dark-haired merman, his silver eyes staring into yours. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," you said. Max barked, licking your face like he was telling you to try him.
A smile appeared on your face as you calmed him down from his spontaneous excitement.
"At least... you care besides Meldrick," you stated.
Your eyes then noticed his empty food bowl. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the floor and approached the kitchen.
"Come on, Max. Let's get you food and maybe push me into a bath,” you uttered to yourself as Max followed you. Your clothes were still damped, and your hair smelled like sea brine. Strangely, there was also an odd taste of fish on your lips.
The sea retained its characteristic calmness, its vast expanse stretching out in all directions under the azure sky. The water's surface mirrored the tranquil nature of the day, with gentle ripples occasionally breaking the stillness.
Makalaure gracefully swam over the rocky terrain, his observant eyes taking in the familiar surroundings. His gaze was like a beacon of light as it fell upon a sack of rocks and a broken rope, a sight he recognized all too well. However, the place around him appeared empty, and you were conspicuously absent.
A sense of relief washed over him, knowing you had not attempted to drown yourself again. Yet, despite this reassurance, an undeniable longing tugged at him—a desire to see you again, to ensure your well-being in person.
You walked up the small pier. The lake behind your house was as calm as ever, and you could smell the fresh scent of the ocean in the distance as it was in your sight behind the rocks and trees that surrounded the lake. The other houses and piers were empty, giving you peace as you sat at the pier’s edge, yesterday’s events still fresh in your mind.
Max was loitering at the beach, smelling the corners and doing his business while you stared into nothing particular.
You glance at your ukulele that was lying on the top of the little stand, a gift from Meldrick for your 13th birthday. He got it during his voyage to the distant islands and decided to give it to you since you were spending your birthday alone again.
Music sometimes calmed you whenever the dark thoughts spiraled within, even though you only knew one song.
You gently picked up the instrument, adjusting the strings before beginning to play, filling the silence with a simple melody.
In the sea, Makalaure wandered among the rocks and stone walls of the island. He paused when his ears caught a faint song echoing through the sea—a soft and somewhat melodic tune. He couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something familiar about it, as if he knew the person playing the instrument.
He knew the ocean could carry music from all corners of the world. That’s what made music so special to him and his people. And because of the familiarity, he decided to find the one playing the song.
The mer followed the song’s echo and tone to a cave. Through the darkness, he saw paths that led into the island. Curious and daring, he swam in, following the song.
You continued playing the ukulele, trying to remember which string to pluck while trying to enjoy the melody. It was nearly working, but something felt amiss, and you forgot the next part. Frustration crept in, causing you to stop and make minor adjustments to the strings.
Your feet dangled above the water, creating tiny whirlpools as you attempted to play the small instrument again, but something was off with the ukulele’s sound, so you gave up and set it down beside you, gazing at the lake.
Something glimmered in the water. You frowned in confusion, staring at the glimmer as a familiar face popped up from the water, the merman from before.
“Oh, hey…” you stared back at him, confused and surprised.
“Hey,” he said back.
“How… Did you get here? I don’t think this lake is connected to the sea?” you questioned.
"There are caves at the bottom of this lake. They lead to the sea, even though the water here tastes much sweeter," the merman explained.
"Ah…" you cocked your head. "I didn't know that... or anyone, in fact."
He swam closer to you, the scales on his tail glimmering with sunlight.
“Was it you playing that song just now?” he asked.
“Uh…” you started, unsure how he heard you play. “Yeah, I was playing my ukulele,” you grabbed your ukulele. “It helps me calm down sometimes,” you explained.
“I only know one song, so it's nothing much,” you said, then looked at him. “Uh… why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be wherever you live in the sea since it's forbidden to be here?” you questioned.
"I... wanted to check on you. You know, in case you tried drowning again," Makalaure looked you in the eye.
"Well... thanks, but I don't think I'll be trying that anytime soon," you replied with a hint of indifference, "Especially with you around."
“Where are the other ones? The blondies and the two redheads,” you asked, noticing their absence.
“They’re at home. They got grounded, so I came along,” he answered, making you look at him curiously. “You got grounded?” you asked. “Yes. Our family was not happy about the whole thing that happened last night,” he said. “Ah…” you looked away, “Sorry about that,”
“You don’t need to apologize. It was I who pulled them along and interfered with your…” Makalaure hesitated. “Drowning attempt,” he finished.
You said nothing, thinking of the whole thing. Makalaure looked at you uncertainly, like he wanted to say something.
“How are you… feeling at the moment?” Makalaure asked.
“Hmm…” you looked at him. “Nothing really… it doesn’t feel like anything changed,” you answered. “It’s just… nothing,” you said.
The air between you grew quiet once more. Makalaure observed as you stared into the distance, unsure how to break the silence. His gaze then fell upon the instrument in your hands, the ukulele, as you called it.
“Could you… play the song again?” he asked.
“Uh… sure. Why though?” you picked up your ukulele.
“I’m curious to hear it again. The melody it produced was lovely, and it was the thing that led me to you,” he said with a smile. “Oh! Uh…” You felt a bit flustered by the thought.
“I’m—” Something big and furry suddenly slammed beside you, barking excitedly and vigorously wagging its tail at the merman before you.
Makalaure pulled back in surprise as the dog beside you barked at him.
“Max, no! Bad boy!” you pulled your dog back, eliciting a whine from him as he lay down beside you, staring at the merman in curiosity.
You returned your gaze to Makalaure, “Sorry about that— this is Max, my dog. He’s friendly but can sometimes get overly excited, especially with new people,” you said.
“Oh, it's fine. I’ve heard about these dogs but never seen one up close before,” Makalaure said as he swam closer, staring at Max in fascination. You made space for him as he grabbed onto the pier and pulled himself up slightly.
“Can I pet him?” he looked at you.
“Sure, go ahead. Max won’t bite,” you said.
He then extended his hand, letting Max smell it before gently laying his hand on the dog’s head and slowly stroking and rubbing with a smile on his face. Max groaned in happiness, wagging his tail from the attention.
He then pulled back, chuckling when he saw Max’s fur stuck to his hand.
“Soft and sticky as much?” He looked at you humorously.
“Yeah… I guess it's Max’s fur-shedding time,” you said. “Sorry about that,”
“Oh, I don’t mind it at all. Your Max kinda reminds me of our hunting seals,” Maglor said, washing the fur away from his hand in the water.
You looked at him curiously.
“You use seals for hunting? Are they like dogs to you?” you asked.
“I guess you could say they’re like dogs to us. Though they have less fur and fewer feet.” Makalure joked, making you snort. Makalaure felt a rush of joy when he saw you smile.
“That’s cool,” you said.
“What is your name? I do not think I asked last time,” he asked.
“(Name) and yours?” you replied.
“My name is Prince Kanafinwe Makalaure, the second son of Prince Feanor and Lady Nerdanel, but you may call me Maglor for short,” he smiled at you.
Your eyes widened after his introduction. “You’re a prince?” you questioned, your tone filled with shock and surprise.
“Oh god— I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused,” you said.
"No, you don't need to apologize," he said, shaking his head. "Well, how would you react when the merman who rescued you turns out to be a prince as well?" you asked. “Oh! I… guess I would be surprised as well,” he said, more amused.
“My life is getting weirder and weirder,” you said. “I… don’t mean it in a bad way! I did learn about your existence yesterday!” you said, then looked at the sun.
“I think you should go home. It's getting late, and didn’t you say you and the others got grounded ?” you questioned.
“I am, but I told them I was composing a new song in my room. It can take hours, and they learned not to disturb me, so I think I’m safe,” he said. “Thought… dinner time is approaching, and Nelyo has a habit of checking on me by then,” he said thoughtfully.
"Yeah... so maybe that's why you should go," you suggested, surmising that Nelyo was someone family to him.
“However, I would have loved to hear you play the song again,” he looked at you.
"Maybe some other time. I don't want to get you in further trouble, and I'm a bit rusty, so it might not sound great," you explained. "So, how about you go through your punishment, and then you'll be more free to visit and hear me... if you want, I mean," you added.
“I kinda… got grounded for two months so It might take some time,” he replied with a painful look.
“Oh! Never mind then…” you looked away, feeling somewhat disappointed. There was no way he would come back by then.
Makalaure looked at you and sensed hidden sadness behind your eyes. It wasn't overt, but it had become more apparent to him. It stirred both sympathy and a glimmer of joy as it suggested you might want to see him again.
“How about this…” he started, gaining your attention. “I will be a good son and go through the punishment, then come back to hear the song once the two months have passed. In the meantime, you could practice and maybe learn more songs to play. How does that sound?” he asked.
“I… guess so. I’m not certain if I will remember it, though. I have a short memory,” you said back. “That’s fine. I’ll remember it for you. We merfolk are good at remembering things,” Makalaure said.
“Okay… well… I guess I can do that. Sounds simple enough,” you said.
“Excellent! Want to shake hands like you humans like to do? To honor our promise and new friendship,” he extended his hand. You were uncertain but did not want to disappoint, so you grabbed his hand and gave him a firm shake.
“I’ll see you then, (Name). Take care of yourself,” Makalaure smiled, then disappeared beneath the water, his blue tail splashing the surface before he was completely out of your sight. You stared at the empty spot for a moment.
Max whined, disappointed to see him gone. You rubbed his head in comfort, still perplexed by the whole thing.
“What have I gotten myself into?” you questioned yourself. Max tilted his head, staring at you with his black doll-like eyes.
“Will he… come back, though?” you uttered and stared at the water. Max lay beside you as you rubbed his head and thought about your promise to the merman. You didn't know if Maglor would actually come back in two months. You were someone easily forgotten by people, so you didn’t have high hopes. However, somewhere deep down in your mind – you hoped he would do.
With a shake of your head, you stood up and began walking back to your house – Max following right behind. The sun was setting behind the horizon, so you should get started with dinner and spend it alone with Max like you usually did.
#maglor x reader#silmarillion x reader#maglor#silmarillion#mermaid au#silmarillion au#silm fic#tolkien#angst#mermaid maglor#human reader#mermaid / human#middle earth x reader#middle earth
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