#it’s impossible to take nice pictures of him
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I have an idea for a full-season Eddie arc that I want to put into the universe. tim, feel free to plagiarize me yet again (but this time. i want a dm. i know you're around here somewhere come say hi). So. Anyways. Season 8
8x1: Eddie has broken up with Marisol. By the time this episode rolls around, they've already been broken up for a couple weeks/months. As mentioned in 7x5, he's struggling with the idea of Catholic guilt, struggling with the idea of faith in general. He mentions, in casual conversation, to Buck, Chim or Tommy (who is still with Buck on screen *coughs loudly*) that he's thinking about going down to Texas for a while. His grandmother is the most religious person he knows and he's always found comfort being in her space and soaking in her presence, so he wants to talk to her about his feelings. Whoever he's talking to agrees that's a good idea.
8x2 - 8x7: A couple episodes pass with the idea of Eddie taking some time off in the background of the audience's mind. Nothing major, just little throw away lines about getting the truck tuned up before he makes a big road trip, paying bills before he leaves, things like that.
8x8: The 118 responds to a call of a fire in a church. Two people are getting married and their families are in attendance. Eddie doesn't go inside the church but he fights the fire from outside and helps treat the injured. Almost everyone is pulled out safely but the mother of the bride. Her daughter is crying because she and her mother aren't on good terms and she doesn't want it to be too late for them to patch things up. Eddie and the bride get to talking, and the bride mentions she always felt like she wasn't enough for mom, that she found it impossible to live up to her standards. They had an argument before the fire broke out because the bride realized, on-screen, that she didn't actually want to marry the man she was going to marry because she was in love with someone else (that's what started the fire, her making that announcement caused someone to pass out, and blah blah blah). But she was only marrying this man because her mom thought he would be good for her, and the brides makes a comment about always feeling like she was living her life for someone else, in service of a standard she could never reach. Eddie, of course, can relate. The bride's mother passes away and, it's a tragedy and is treated as such, but at the end of the episode during the voiceover (*coughs louder*), we see the bride reuniting with the person she's actually in love with because her mother's death means she's free from having to try to, like, be perfect.
8x10: Eddie's been getting a call from his dad all throughout the episode but he's been ignoring it because [shenanigans]. This is a light-hearted episode and the tone will be important because when he finally answers the phone during the last five minutes of the episode, he's like "Dad, come on, jesus, what is it" and his dad tells him that his grandmother has passed away.
8x11: Midseason premiere, the episode begins with Isabel's funeral, mainly because I want to see Eddie/Ryan in a nice tailored black suit (timothy, i'm sure you can relate). Anyway, the funeral is outside because it's important Eddie doesn't go inside a church yet. When it's finished, he goes back to the reception at Isabel's house. His sisters are there, everyone is there. He offers to help his mother in the kitchen and she tries to make conversation, but Helena Diaz has never actually learned how to relate to her son, so she says the wrong thing. It doesn't go well (but that's something to be circled back to in another season). Eddie looks at the pictures on his grandma's wall / mantle / whatever and sees himself and his sisters and his cousins when they were kids, smiling big at church christenings or whatever, and he's like... "I don't recognize this kid who was so happy to be inside of religion. I didn't know who I was then, and I definitely don't know who I am now because of it". He doesn't say it, but that's the vibe ofc, and Ryan's face is expressive enough that he can pull that off.
8x12: He's back in LA. Everyone is treating him with the utmost care because they are good people and they love him, and one evening, Eddie gets a visitor. He opens the door and it's his sister. (one of them lives in LA, remember?). In my head, that's always been Sophia, so he asks what she's doing here, and she holds up a bottle of wine. They sit on the sofa, they talk and reminisce about their grandmother, make apologies for the fact that they haven't been around for each other much despite living in the same city (but this isn't Eddie's family issues storyline, this is the Catholic guilt storyline. We will circle back to this in S9). So Eddie pitches the idea of faith to her, and asks what it means to her. It's the same question he wanted to ask his grandmother. Sophia says she has faith in the universe, faith that things always happen the way they're meant to, and it's a good answer but it doesn't speak to the core of Eddie's problem, which is that he always feels beholden to something he can't name/place.
8x14: Eddie continues to ask the people around him (Buck, Athena, Tommy, Chim) about faith and what it means to them. They all give him different answers. Athena has faith in purpose. Chim has faith in his family. Buck has faith in the inherent good of humanity. Tommy has faith in himself. It's not very helpful in the sense that no one gives him his answer, but it does reveal to him that faith can, does, and should exist absent of guilt, that maybe he's been doing it (or was taught) all wrong.
8x15: Insert an embarrassingly on the nose call about a kind, nerdy, reserved man who's lived by an unspoken rulebook all his life. He came out to Los Angeles on a whim and suffers from a hiking mishap where he's physically blinded by [something] and subsequently needs to trust that the 118, these people he literally cannot see, will save him. When they pull him to safety, he berates himself for even coming out to Los Angeles in the first place because he's not the kind of guy who does this, he just wanted to do something for him and now he feels stupid. And Eddie (because of course it's Eddie) is just like "no, you didn't do anything wrong. Look, you took a leap of faith (episode title btw). That's more than what most people can say. Maybe it didn't work out in this instance, but who knows how it'll work out tomorrow, or the next day. You don't know the future. None of us do, so maybe stop trying to live according to some giant colossal plan and just... live, and try your best. Isn't that all we can do?" And he watches the guy get airlifted away (thanks Tommy! *coughs even louder*) and it's like his lightbulb moment, like, oh. Yeah. He finally gets it.
8x16: Eddie walks into a church for the first time in years, and for the first time all season. It looks exactly how he remembers; wooden pews, high ceilings, the works. He takes a seat on one of the benches and prays / talks aloud to God and is just like, "I don't really know who you are and I don't know how to be what you want me to be. All my life I've been trying to be what everyone wants me to be to the point where I just don't even know who I am anymore, if I ever knew. So I don't know who you are, but I know I am who you made me to be, and I don't know who that is, but I know that person is enough for me right now. And maybe I'll figure you out along the way, maybe I won't. But, right now, what I know is that i can't be your perfect son because I can't be perfect at all, and I need to let go of the idea that I can and start living my life for me." So he walks out of the church and not much changes, but everything changes. You know?
And, like, obviously the story would need to be flushed out a little more. Obviously, this story centers more of the idea of faith than the idea of explicit guilt, but they're one in the same anyway because you can't have guilt without failed/presumably "failed" expectations. In this case, religious or spiritual expectation. So. I don't know. But there's just something so sexy about the idea of Eddie systematically and intentionally dismantling and releasing himself from all the things that have kept him from growing over the years. Starting with his survivors guilt in S5 and working his way through Catholic guilt in S8, I just love the idea of Eddie being purposeful in his own healing, especially in this post-breakdown era. Plus it'll give him a chance to have a storyline that's not romance-focused cos we've been leaning a bit too heavily into those. 🙃 But anyways. (Next up is his issues with Helena. btw. because we have yet to circle back to his family issues in canon but we certainly need to).
#Sorry Isabel you were the sacrificial lamb#I wrote this instead of working ermmmm okay back to the grind as they say#jack.txt#tv: 911#jack answers mail#8a speculation#8b speculation#ish#no read more sorry. i talk a lot and you should all be used to it.#tim minear#ok no for real i got work to do lmfaoooo bye#EVERYONE MANIFEST IT WITH ME GIRLS
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Follow me on twt I post sillies
#I think it would be so funny#it’d be so fucking scary at night#he uses it to his advantage#it’s impossible to take nice pictures of him#his eyes just glow now#even more meow meow#ambrose art#jason todd wayne#jason todd#red hood#dc comics#tim drake
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tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.
[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]
“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.
His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.
“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”
You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.
“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”
It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”
It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”
Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”
For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”
“I need to— You said I could go—”
“Just give me another minute, darling.”
His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.
“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#degrees of lewdity#dol#harper the doctor#dol harper#harper x reader#yandere harper#dol harper x reader#yandere drabble#yandere degrees of lewdity#degrees of lewdity imagines#yandere dol#dol imagines
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Headcanon that the Bats must be the most infuriating members of the justice league. And it's got nothing to do with what they do or don't know or even their general skills and egos. Everyone is very used to Batman and the expectation that him and any of his spawn are somehow going to be three steps ahead of any issue they bring to the table ever.
No no, the infuriating bit? The stalking.
Listen, this is a family of freaks and weirdos. They work so well together because none of them were normal to start with and then they ended up traumatized. It's practically common practice in that family to accept that nothing is what it seems at face value and that all of your siblings are attempting to pry into your private life and cases at any given moment. I think for them it's honestly weirder if you take what they say at face value. They speak a language holy separate from any normally socialized person and it is a language of lies and half-truths that relies on the assumption that all parties are aware of that.
They're the most infuriating bitches around.
They'll tell someone something and appear to do the opposite and when confronted will have the most convoluted but sound reasoning of why they actually did exactly as they promised too.
They regularly pick people's pockets and hack into personal information because for them? That's practically a love language. They're obnoxious and they aren't even aware of it. Someone asks them to just tell the truth and they react like they've been shot. They're probably offended when they realize that someone hasn't been at least attempting to dig into them back, like come on man. I thought we were friends but you didn't even Google how long Nightwings been around? We've already put the bar on the floor for you guys? My siblings already have a full dossier ready on you because they caught us on camera in your home city during that 2 minute conversation we had 3 months ago. They sent it to me a few hours later. I think they got Oracle to help cause usually it takes them at least 12 hours.
You think they're being nice and friendly and then you realize that they have a nice little file compiled of everything you've done in the last five years, where you went to school and every note your teachers ever made about your behavior a decade ago when you were still a high schooler and fairly normal. If asked they'd probably be willing to bring out the family tree they built for you. They know what you did last summer better than you know what you did last summer. They have pictures, pictures that should be impossible because there's no way they were stalking you then and those sure don't look like security camera footage.
In reality Bats and Superman get along so well because that man is an investigative journalist and when they first met he could not leave it alone. Bruce was charmed the first time Clark Kent started doggedly attempting to ask him if he knew anything about Gothams new cryptid. It was cute how off base he was. But he was trying!!!! Bruce was sold for life! He dropped an dossier on lexcorp off in Clarks apartment a few days later. As a gift.
#listen Bruce probably made it a training exercise#whoever can name the most heroes by the end of the week#(first and last)#gets bragging rights and a joy ride in the batmobile#batman#dc#bruce wayne#batfamily#clark kent#superman#justice league#robin#tim drake#dick grayson#nightwing#red robin#damian wayne#spoiler#stephanie brown#duke thomas#signal
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Pucker Up, Buttercup
"Ugh, this is so humiliating," Sukuna remarked, as you continued to do various stupid and silly poses for the camera.
Click!
You nudged him with your elbow, "C'mon, old man. Lighten up! It's a photo booth, now smile for the camera!" You used both of your index fingers to force Sukuna's lips into a smile — it ended up just making him look more menacing, as his canines stuck out.
Click!
For this next one, you moved impossibly closer to Sukuna. You gripped his jaw in your palm and pressed your lips on his cheek. Sukuna immediately flushed, and fortunately for you, the camera caught that.
Click!
Swiftly, you pulled away. "Last one, 'Kuna. Make this worthwhile and actually pose," you couldn't deny the fact you were annoyed by Sukuna's behavior right now. This photo booth did not charge nicely and Sukuna wasn't even bothering to pose or even smile.
You prepared to just flash a simple smile at the camera, but Sukuna had other plans in mind. He grabbed your face — a little roughly, but it's Sukuna, so what do you expect — and captured your lips in his, taking your breath away. For a moment, you remained stunned, before melting into the kiss. Your lashes fluttered just as the camera shuttered once more.
Click!
Sukuna tasted of the cherry flavored snow-cone he had had before entering the photo booth with you. His hand met the back of your neck and tangled itself in your hair.
The both of you remained like that, even after the last picture was taken. Neither of you moved away, until a worker had to stick their head in the booth and kick you guys out. You blushed sheepishly; but Sukuna just shrugged, pushing aside the curtain and heading out. You followed suit.
Sukuna collected the photos from the worker before you exited after him, and stuffed them in his hoodie pocket. The wind was strong outside. Consequently, you brushed a strand of hair away from your face.
Sukuna stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, mindlessly kicking rocks and pebbles, before he looked up and met your gaze.
"The fair's closing in a few minutes. We should get going."
"Right," you agreed. So was he just going to act like nothing ever happened in that booth?
As you two walked on the cement, the silence grew loud. So loud. . . Until Sukuna couldn't take it any longer, "I told you wearing that outfit wouldn't do you any good. Look at you, your whole body's shaking."
"Hmph, well — at least I look fabulous. A jacket would just ruin the look, y'know?"
"No, I don't know, actually." Sukuna pulled his sweater over his head and helped you put it on.
When you finally stopped shivering, you attached yourself to Sukuna's arm. What the hell? How was he still warm after he gave you his jacket?
"What's wrong with your body?" You laughed.
Sukuna rolled his eyes.
"Anyways," he started, out of the blue, "someone needs to teach you how to kiss, you're terrible. But — don't worry, I'll help you learn. Every single day."
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee
"Oh my God!" You swatted at his chest, "You're actually insufferable." Sukuna's booming laughter reverberated.
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fireproofs | ln4
summary: lando norris is hot and the 2024 fireproofs drive you crazy.
word count: 756
warnings: suggestive comments
masterlist — join my tag list here!
© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.
you’ve been grateful to mclaren for many things over the years, but aside from a fast car, this has to be the best gift they’ve bestowed upon you.
you don’t think it’s an exaggeration when you say that your jaw unhinged the first time you saw lando wearing the new black fireproofs that mclaren has him and oscar in for the 2024 season. he’d sent you pictures, along with a text saying, “what do you think? 👀”
you’d responded with “yeah, not bad” and subsequently spent the next half hour screaming into your pillow. you were able to save face over text, but now that testing is here, you’re a lost cause.
you’d seen lando in black fireproofs before, but something about this year is different. something about him is different. he’s more confident, more determined, and he somehow managed to fill out even more during winter break.
lando had felt bad for mclaren’s car launch sabotaging your valentine’s day, so while you were in the middle of insisting that it wasn’t a big deal, he was booking you a plane ticket to join him in bahrain for the grand prix and testing the week before.
so now, you’re twiddling your thumbs as you sit in your boyfriend’s driver room, both anxious to see him before his testing session begins and hoping he’ll be occupied on the pit wall for just a little longer so you can figure out how to keep your composure once he changes into his race suit.
“you’re still here?” it comes out like half an exclamation and half a question as lando slips into the room.
“you haven’t even gone out on the track, of course i’m still here,” you giggle when he pulls you into his arms and starts pressing kisses all over your face. “i can’t wait to see you put the car through its paces. oscar looked pretty good out there.”
“i’d rather put you through your paces,” he mumbles in your ear, and you smack his shoulder.
“maybe later, if you’re not too tired.”
“i’m never too tired for you.” he winks and kisses your nose before turning to change.
you have no shame in ogling his ass out of the corner of your eye as he does so, but for the most part you’re looking at updates from the first session on your phone until he sits down next to you to put his shoes on.
those damn fireproofs.
they hug his body a little too nicely. the muscles in his chest, back, and arms are perfectly defined courtesy of the tight material. you can’t even think about his shoulder to waist ratio without feeling a little dizzy with desire.
“you’re drooling,” he teases as he stands back up, the both of you knowing damn well that he loves it when you stare at him.
“i can’t help it, you’re too hot.” you’ve never had a problem with telling him just how fine he is, especially because your praise always manages to make him blush and that just makes him impossibly more attractive.
“how am i supposed to let you leave this room?” you complain, wrapping your arms around his torso.
he buries his red face in your shoulder. “the sooner i leave, the sooner i come back and show you a good time.”
“i thought you were taking me out to dinner.”
“that’s what i was talking about,” his tone is dripping in faux innocence, and you know he’s messing with you when you feel him kiss your neck. “good to know where your priorities lie, though.”
you open your mouth to patronize him, but you’re cut off when he squeezes your hips, causing you to yelp. “you are impossible.”
“hmm, good thing you love me so much then.” you can hear his smile as he speaks, and you run your hands across his back, feeling every ridge of muscle through the material of the fireproofs.
your phone starts buzzing in your pocket— the alarm you’d set to remind yourself of when he needed to get in the car. “alright,” you reluctantly separate yourself from him, taking one last lingering look at his figure before he pulls the other half of his race suit on. “i’ll stay for an hour or two and meet you back at the hotel, okay?”
“what dress are you wearing tonight?” he asks as he holds the door open for you.
“the papaya one,” you smirk, and he groans, dragging a hand through his hair.
“you’re gonna kill me, baby.”
note: i wrote most of this at 2 am in a purely feral state and did the bare minimum in editing because i’m drowning in schoolwork so apologies if it’s a bit rough!! mclaren posted a 10 second video of lando and oscar walking around and that was all it took.
lowercase is intentional because i wrote entirely on mobile!
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
reblogs are always appreciated <33
beautiful dividers by @/saradika !
tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @emmma232 @lieswithoutfairytales @valisjustvaleria @bwormie @meribfox @xfuckoffx @rai-scutum @clara760-blog @reptaysgf @harryismysworld @caz-93 @positiveaspirations @satanfinalgirl @ln4lova @crazymofo-96 @x-d1vine @anedpev
#blurb#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#ln4 fluff#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x reader#formula one
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Nice To Eat You
[ii]
The Vees x Cannibal!Reader
warnings: drugs, suggestive, rosie slander, dark themes, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism
heads up: if you didn’t know, the people of cannibal town are hellborn; born in hell, never lived on earth, never sinned! their life spans are unknown(?) but seem to age as a human would, unlike other demons
Cannibal town has been off limits to The Vees, courtesy of Vox, ever since the incident with you know who. Meeting you was a suspicious surprise for them. You were kicked out of said town by Rosie for giving cannibals a bad name. Can you fucking believe the irony!?
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Suspicious might be an understatement
• For the longest time, Vox is unnerved by you for every other reason than your appetite. Anyone associated with Rosie is an adversary by proxy. If you take Alastor out of the picture, Rosie is still an Overlord and all Overlords will inevitably crumble to The Vees– even if they don’t know it yet
• There’s an expression for that though, isn’t there? Keep your enemies close. That’s exactly how Vox went about dealing with you
• Gives you a job as his security guard. Hell knows he needs one, what with the price of fame and all, those dirty fucking sinners that try and touch him wherever he goes
• It’s a slow development because neither of you initiate conversation
• Vox is beyond used to the rotating door of demons in and out of his life. He abandons the names of anyone that isn’t you, Velvette or Valentino (Angel Dust and Alastor he can’t forget against his will)
• Becoming attached to you while simultaneously waiting for the other shoe to drop is fucking awful. It feels it like a bug in his system, annoys him to the point his screen starts glitching one day
“Just what the fuck are you up to!? I know you’re with Rosie–”
You knew, on some level, Vox didn’t trust you all the way but it didn’t bother you because he hardly seems to trust anyone. So you cut him off with a mix of a snort and a scoff,
“Rosie? Rosie’s a cunt. She gave me the boot years ago, haven't seen her since.”
Involuntarily, he begins to smile, “Years, huh?”
• Trust is another slow endeavor. Now that Vox doubts your motives slightly less than before, he can silently appreciate the fact you do a damn good job of keeping demons away from him. Bonus: if you happen to take a chunk out of them for shits and giggles, blood never touches his pristine self
• “I believe I owe you an apology,”
“Am I going to get one?”
• In a way, sure, but you’ll be sorely disappointed if you thought it was with words. He invites you to dinner. From that moment until you arrive at the restaurant, he’s reveling in the constant state of shock you seem to be in
• Your eyebrows jump when the waiter nervously lifts the lid from your plate and reveals ribs. Real, demon ribs
“Surprised?” Vox asks rather smugly
“Somewhat,” You return his sly smirk, “Most can’t stomach my… indulgences.”
“I don’t have a stomach. I think I’ll be just fine.”
˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Vel doesn’t give two steaming shits about Rosie or her backwards, unflattering town so long as it doesn’t interfere with her enterprise. Vox’s grudges are his own. If The Vees got hellbent and demented over each other’s EOTD (Enemy Of The Day) nothing would get done!
• During a pathetic comment war on the her social, a few threats became too detailed for Vox’s liking
• A cannibal wasn’t his first choice– or second, or third– but you’d certainly scare off anyone trying to hurt his business partner!
• Velvette’s far from worried about being lunch when she meets you.
• “You’re my–? No. Absolutely not! I can’t be seen with this.” She gestures to all of you
“You’re not exactly making me drool either,” You mutter under your breath
• Judging by the looks of her partners’ faces, stunning Velvette to silence was impossible. Key word: was
• It didn’t last long and hasn’t stopped since
• She pulled out every trick in the book to get you to quit. She gave you a uniform to wear during your shifts, tossed fabrics at you until you turned into a living clothes rack, forced you to hold her phone during her live streams but criticized and berated the way you did
• For fucks sake, she even screamed at Vox to let her fire you!
• You didn’t need her to like you and that was as obvious as it was infuriating. She was Velvette! Everyone loved her! Having you around was like a black eye; literally bruising her ego and bad for business
• Or so she thought
• She made you stand in the shadows of her studio so you wouldn’t frighten anyone and ruin photoshoots with your “freaky face” she so eloquently put it.
• Velvette was mid fashion crisis, yelling at Joanne for the gazillionth time, when you approached from behind
“I’m taking my lunch.”
“Fucking fantastic! Here, have Joanne since she insists on being fucking useless!”
Playing along, you let a guttural growl rip from your throat, making Joanne jump high in the air.
She squeaked and shook her head vigorously, holding her hands in surrender, “I-I’ll be better, I swear!”
• Her candy cane eyes widened in delighted surprise. How had she been so blind to your potential usefulness!?
• Velvette could get high off the new game she created with you. It was like having a scary guard dog– only better dressed to aesthetics. Paparazzi didn’t dare touch her now, standing at a respectable distance that made her more unattainable and desirable than before
• Her attitude change makes her like-able to you too, she’s heaps more pleasant to be around now. You don’t mind doing the extra stuff that wasn’t in your contract like being a dress up doll, dealing with the pet names or escorting her to events. She knows and takes advantage of this instead of saying how she feels
• “You’re my arm candy now, dollface! You go where I go.”
“I hardly think I qualify as arm candy,” You mumble to her, overtly aware of how she holds you close to her
“If you’re fishing for compliments, fuck off to another pond. I don’t waste my free time with uggos,” She says seriously, abruptly smiling as a camera flashes in her direction, “Now get ready. Fans have been dying to get a picture with me lately and if anyone smudges this dress with their dirty fucking fingers, I want you to bite them off!”
“Anyone that touches you won’t have hands tomorrow,” You promise
• You swear she shivers upon hearing that
˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• The easiest by far to get along with. In a mortifying way
• Val is fairly accepting of all Hell’s creatures. It’s typically followed up by something sexual but, hey, you’re not in a position to complain, not when no one else in Hell would willingly sign up to work with a cannibal. Especially one outside the confines of Rosie’s civil town
• Rosie’s loss is his gain
• You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to turn horror-struck but he barely blinks when you explain what you did to get exiled. Your savage methods intrigue him, a plethora of potentials just waiting to be explored. In fact, he goes a step further to praise you for being different
• “Hell would be deathly boring if everyone thought the same way, darling. That’s what makes you so… alluring.” He rolled his tongue with the last word, dragging it out and making it ring in your ears
• You’d been called many things in your afterlife, but never that
• You feel rather useless at the moth’s side. You were supposed to be protecting him but he could take care of himself just fine. Val was about the tallest in every room (if not the tallest) with guns hidden under his coat that he never used
• Later you’d understand he only reached for them as a last resort, when his head was unclouded by blood lust
• If you ever voiced your complaints, he’d be quick to reassure you that you make him look good. What powerful Overlord doesn’t have bodyguards? (Do. Not. Answer.)
• However the day does come when you prove your services have merit. On set of all places! A coked up Hellhound didn’t take kindly to Val’s directions, sending a demon wielding a boom mic flying towards him
• Valentino dodged the demon with ease, whipping around and aiming his pistol to put the dog down. Instead he saw you pushing the mutt’s face into the ground, his arm pinned at an angle. Your sharp teeth were bared at his throat, drool dampening his fur
• But you made no moves without Valentino’s say-so
• There’s a lot he could say about the scenario you provided him and how it made him feel– but he only calls your name, beckoning you back to his side
• Where you belong
• “You’re lucky I don’t like hair in my food,” You growl in the Hellhound’s ear before following after Val
• Valentino may be a mastermind of porn and sex but he knows the real way to a demon’s heart, it’s is the universal love language
• Unbothered by blood, he’ll sit pretty and poised on his loveseat while you tear into the meal he provided you. A thanks for a job well done
• “You’ll never go hungry now that you’re with me, monstruo,” The pet name is dripping with adoration, “I won’t waste you like that bitch did. Look at you, you’re already so special.”
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i lost the request that went to this but i hope it reaches them. cannibal!reader got that rizz, huh?
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanon#vox headcanons#vox imagine#vox x reader#velvette headcanons#velvette imagine#velvette x reader#valentino headcanons#valentino x reader#valentino imagine#help i’m actually falling for val
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dirty (theodore nott x reader)
summary: in which theo seeks to remind you who you really belong to (hint: it’s not your boyfriend).
notes: fingering (f receiving), cheating, kinda dick theo, kinda jealous theo, angst, 1k words, smut
+ part two
His eyes—dark, haunting—trailed you through each room and interaction. Well, trailed you and your boyfriend.
All was fine until your boyfriend went to get you both drinks. As soon as he disappeared from sight the Slytherins tall presence appeared at your back.
Despite your protests, Theo managed to drag you from the crowded dance floor, down the hall and into a dark bathroom, all the while avoiding your curses and flailing elbows.
“Let go of me, Nott. Are you fucking crazy dragging me out of the party like that? He could have seen,” you hissed, trying to break for the door. He beat you to it, coming to stand squarely between you and your escape route.
This boy, you thought. He drove you mental—had done since the first time you’d laid eyes on him. It was only a matter of time before one of you had slipped, boyfriend or no. Since then it had been long months of broom closet hook ups and secret astronomy tower rendezvous.
But you had sworn all that off. Your boyfriend was nice. And Theo was… well, Theo.
“Come here,” he said.
You scoffed and focused hard on the bathroom tile to your right.
“I fucking said come here,” Theo repeated, but now his accent was thick and his voice was loud. Lip curled he waited for you to slowly stand before him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead watching as his chest rose and fell with angry breathes.
“You can talk about your boyfriend all you’d like, principessa,” he spat, “but I’m the one fucking you, hm?”
His crude words had you forgetting your fear and raising your chin to argue. There was no need to make this messier than it already was—and who was he to talk? He seemed to have a new girlfriend every other week.
But Theo didn’t give you the chance. He was in your face in an instant, backing you up until you’d hit the opposite wall.
“I’m the one you call when you’re horny or lonely. I fucking own you.”
Your faces were almost touching. Theo angry was something you could never forget—his eyes were almost black as they incessantly tracked your movements. Mouth in a permanent snarl he kept your body caged in with his long arms, even as you tried weakly to pry yourself away. His voice changed too; every time he yelled his Italian accent became stronger, words sometimes reverting back to his native tongue. It made you dizzy.
“Theo-“
“Boyfriend or not, you’re mine. Sei mia,” he said, this time crushing the words onto your mouth.
Blood bloomed in your mouth as his lips slanted over yours. Theo was always rough with you, but now he was angry. And that proved to be wholly different.
Hands harsh on your skin, he pulled up your skirt. Not a second thought was spared for your lacy (expensive) underwear; Theo barely pushed them aside enough to fit two long fingers into you.
He handled your body deftly, taking what he wanted and doing so roughly. You tried to be mad at his obvious disregard, but something about the clench of his jaw and the heavy heat of his mouth made protest impossible. Thought of any form seemed beyond you; as he forced a long leg between yours you ground down, whimpering at your own vulnerability.
“So pathetic. Look at yourself,” he murmured, lips kissing along your neck. Indeed, it was a rather indecent picture. With your skirt ridden up and your underwear pushed away you could easily see where he was touching you. The slick on his long fingers, the flex of his arms as he pushed into you. The stutter of your hips along his thigh, pants already wet.
“What would your boyfriend think if he saw you, hm baby?
You wanted to scream. Possessiveness laced every flux of Theo’s voice, and his dead eyes were black as they watched you.
“Theodore-“
He tsked. His full lip curled, thigh pressing hard between your legs.
“Don’t call me that.”
You desperately tried to shift away from the pressure he forced on your clit, whining gently.
“Teddy,” you corrected, “Teddy please. Need you.”
The boys ego exploded at your words. Your boyfriend didn’t have you saying things like that, he was certain. Only he made you feel like that. Only he would ever make you feel like that.
Theo let his thumb replace his thigh between your legs, rubbing back and forth. Almost desperate to get away from the growing tightness below your stomach, you shifted your hips back and forth for relief. Feelings were too close and warm—sparks seemed to tense the muscles of your limbs over and over as Theo worked you meticulously.
“Cmon now, doing so good,” he said. His voice was raw with lust and admiration as he watched your face crumple.
“Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy,” you were saying. Name a ceaseless prayer from your lips, body strung out he kissed you hard. That was all it took; your orgasm broke through you, bringing tears and pitiful moans. You clutched at the boys shoulders, breaths heaving through you.
“Teddy.”
A whisper this time, onto the fair skin of his neck. He held your limp body gently in his big hands. You started to shiver, but urged your trembling fingers to find his belt.
“Wanna feel you,” you said. But your hand was pushed away.
“Isn’t that what you have a boyfriend for, amore?”
And just like that he brushed past you, not sparing a backwards glance as he left the bathroom.
You didn’t move for a second, orgasm-fuzzy brain trying to process what had just happened.
Theo had left you. Theo had left you here after making you cum on his fingers.
You felt cold all of a sudden. Cold and dirty, you realized, as you tugged your underwear back into place. It was still damp—because of Theo, because of the way he mocked you and rolled his fingers in you.
Tears were quick to gather in your eyes. Fuck Theo and his stupid comments and his stupid, stupid eyes for leaving you here.
Fuck Theo for making you feel like this—like something to be used and mocked and discarded.
As you wiped fiercely at the hot tears tracking your cheek you promised yourself no more of the brooding Slytherin.
No more Theodore Nott.
#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theo nott#Theo nott smut#Theo nott x reader#Theodore nott x reader#slytherin fic#Theo nott fic#bigkeepup
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Birthday morning— OP81
Waking up early isn't Oscar's thing, especially not on his birthday, but he's always, always up for cuddles
— Oscar Piastri x f!reader, sleepy Oscar, no use of y/n, implied nsfw content
word count: 1.6k
a/n: Please ignore that I didn't actually post this on his birthday because I kinda forgot I wrote this in the first place
A soft groan slips past your lips as you slowly wake up, the sun tickling your face. You try to stretch your body but find yourself trapped in Oscar's arms. His embrace is nice and cozy, his bare chest warm against your skin.
Your eyelids flutter a little as you try to get used to the light filtering into the hotel room through the small space by the window you must've forgotten to cover with the curtain last night after you and Oscar got back from the track.
Instinctively your hand reaches for your phone and you squint as the screen lights up, displaying that one picture of you and Oscar his mum took when you were in Australia over Christmas. It was very weird celebrating Christmas in the middle of summer at first. Well, for you at least.
Your eyes flick up to the time. 7:12
With a sigh you let your head fall back onto the soft pillow. Oscar's got you trapped in a hug and you can't even get up to close the curtain in order to darken the room, so going back to sleep is going to be impossible. Great.
You turn in Oscar's embrace so you're facing his chest that rises and falls gently with every soft breath he takes. His hair is a little tousled and his face squished against the pillow. He looks so beautiful with the light from outside gently illuminating his skin in a soft morning light.
Your eyes travel over his features that look so gentle and innocent as he sleeps— he's got a bit of acne like so many people your age, the freckles that adorn his cheeks aren't that visible yet, but as soon as summer comes around and he sees some sun they'll be more noticeable. His skin is smooth, the stubble he was trying out now gone after you convinced him to shave it.
You let your eyes travel down to his arms as you lazily trace your index finger along one, noticing the firm muscles that tense and relax under your touch until you reach his hand. Your hand reaches for his and you absentmindedly start playing with his fingers, admiring how nice his hand looks.
A quiet groan escapes you as your eyes land on the window again. Sleep isn't on the table anymore. Once the sun is up, that option is out the window.
Your finger trails up Oscar's left arm once more, gently grazing his skin with your nail as you do so. He stirs a bit, a quiet grumble making it's way past his lips.
"Happy birthday," you greet him softly as a smile spreads across your face, careful not to startle him. Your boyfriend however only lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement and keeps his eyes closed as he pulls you in closer and buries his face in your neck.
"Come on," you giggle a bit and brush some of Oscar's hair away from his forehead, a soft smile making its way onto his features at the tender touch. "It's your birthday."
"No..." his voice is drowsy, a bit of a lazy whine as his lips curve up slightly into an almost pouty expression.
The sheets rustle a bit as he shifts in bed, trying to get closer to you. His body is so warm, his skin so soft, and you can't help but smile as you wrap your arms around him, stroking his hair with one hand.
"Yes, it is," you chuckle in reply and place a soft kiss against his temple. "And I'm not gonna let you have a boring birthday morning before Qualifying."
"Can it be boring if I'm just with you?" he mumbles, his words muffled and barely understandable with his face pressed against your neck.
Oscar lets out a soft happy sound and his hand squeezes yours, pulling it towards him. "Mh... comfy..." he mutters and moves his head out of the crook of your neck a bit, only one eye open. "What time is it even?"
His words are laced with sleep, his voice raspy, coated thickly in his accent. It always comes out more when he's just woken up.
"Like, 7:15?" you reply and shrug, not bothering to actually check. "Come on, Osc.. Be excited or something."
"I don't wanna..." his words trail off as he mutters something else from under the blanket he's got pulled up over his chin. "It's too early... And you're comfy." In a smooth motion, he runs his hand up your torso to give your waist a gentle squeeze and feel your soft, warm skin against his.
"And you're being boring," you sigh and let your head drop against his. "What if I had something planned, mh?"
A lazy chuckle leaves Oscar's lips as he snuggles in closer to you. "What if I just wanna stay here with you?" he hums a little and lets his body sinks into yours.
"What would you even plan that's better than sleep?" he queries, his voice still a bit raspy and his face scrunched up as the light shines into his face through the window.
"I'm sure I could come up with something," you shrug and nuzzle your face against his hair, pressing a soft kiss there. Oscar's body begins to relax more, melting into your embrace as he holds you close to his chest.
"Does it involve having to leave this bed before I have to head to work?" he asks with a sigh as you start to gently scratch his scalp. "If so, my answer's no. I'd say I'm rather content here."
"Come on, birthday boy," you let out a chuckle and tilt his face towards you, your lips brushing against his. "Cheer up. You're 23!"
"I know... don't remind me," your boyfriend grumbles, but can't help the hint of a smile that tugs at his lips when yours brush against them.
"But it can't get better than this... It's warm here.. and comfortable.. and you smell nice.. what else do I need?" His voice trails off into silence as he relaxes in your arms, sighing contently.
"Aw, so sweet," you chuckle teasingly, nose lightly bumping against Oscar's as you lean forward, causing him to scrunch up his face.
"Mmhh... don't laugh," Oscar grumbles and lets out a soft whine as his lips curl into a pout. He reaches up and his hand finds your cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. "I'm still tired, and you're being mean."
"How am I being mean?" you laugh and prop yourself up on your arm to get a better view of his face.
"You're literally laughing," he huffs but you know he's not being serious. "I just wanna sleep in a bit with you..." His thumb continues to gently rub soft circles on your cheek as he lets the other hand come to rest on your hip, his arm and hand curling around you to pull you against him so you can get a bit more comfortable.
"Alright, alright," you say defensively and scrunch up your face when he leans down and his hair tickles your face. "If that's what you want."
"Exactly. It's my birthday and choose staying in bed," his voice is still a bit raspy, but he's obviously no longer on the verge of falling asleep again. He doesn't seem to want to talk that much, he's content with just holding you in his arms, cuddling.
Oscar nuzzles his face against you again, taking a deep breath. "You smell nice," he tells you again as his hand pulls your hip a bit closer, his eyes closing as he leans his head a little more into you. "Like... lilac."
"I should hope so. I paid some good money for this perfume," you reply with a smile and lean in to give Oscar's lips a gentle kiss. They're soft and the way his hand lands behind your neck almost instinctively makes you feel safe.
Your boyfriend lets out a soft hum of agreement, his lips pressing against yours a little harder, taking the kiss in as he leans his forehead against yours. His grip tightens around you, holding you close as his hand finds your hip and squeezes ever so slightly, his fingers gently tracing the soft dip of your waistline.
You twist in his embrace to grab your phone once more and check the time, which allows Oscar's arms to snake around your waist from behind.
"Almost eight," you mutter with a sigh and rest your head on the soft mattress once more before shifting out from underneath the covers, finally stretching your arms.
"Hey, hey, where're you going?" Oscar inquiries and blinks a little in confusion, his hand reaching out to grab yours as you sit up.
"I gotta shower, baby," you sigh and swing your legs off the bed. "I still have to get ready and we need to go down for breakfast and you have to be at the track by ten."
The smile on Oscar's face falls slightly as you slip away from his embrace, his fingers wrapping around your own as you make your way out of the bed.
"But I just like being in bed with you," he complains somewhat half-jokingly, his other hand reaching out to you as he tries to stop you from escaping.
"Come on, just a bit longer," he whines and lets his head fall back onto the pillow where he lets his body sink into the mattress once more.
"You can come with me if you want," you suggest with a small smile and the most subtle of winks before turning to leave the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.
At the mention of joining you, Oscar is wide awake, sitting up in bed with an excited smile as he watches you leave the room, his gaze following your figure before he rolls out of bed himself.
You feel a smile tugging at your lips as you take notice of the footsteps behind you and feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, his lips finding their way to your neck, knowing you did manage to make his birthday morning not so boring in the end.
#f1#mclaren#f1 x reader#fluff#oscar piastri#qatarsprint2023#op81#japanese grand prix#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#birthday#a relationship like this is all I ask for
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. ୨୧ ₊˚ʚ🐚🩰🫧ɞ˚₊ ୨୧
lets talk about frat boy!rafe x sorority girl!reader meeting for the first time...
from the moment rafe laid eyes on you in a crowd at his frat's beginning of the semester mixer, he knew what he wanted. you.
it was the start of your freshman year of college, you had just joined your sorority and gotten settled in with your friends, everything was relatively normal, that was until you met rafe.
you we're well aware of his reputation, having already been warned by your big before attending the party, rafe's complex, to say the least. he was only older than you by a year, however, he had already weaseled his way into one of the top officer positions in his fraternity and had made quite the name for himself throughout your university for hooking up with almost the entire female student body.
you were intimidated by his affluent and cocky persona, noticing the way he talked down to people as you observed him from afar, that was until he approached you in the middle of the scorching basement of his frat house, in front of the entire party.
"yo. you uh— new around here pretty lady?" he crouches down and inches close to year as he speaks, the blasting music making it almost impossible to hear him. he charms you with his boyish grin and suave personality, resting his forearm over your shoulder while he looks down at you, waiting for a response. you're caught off guard but nonetheless smiling up at him, fiddling with the straps of your tanktop. "um— yea hi! i'm y/n."
he chuckles to himself, licking his lips before parting them to speak again. "y/n... i like it. 'm rafe, rafe cameron. what's your major?" he's a typical frat guy, his words sounding almost scripted, you can tell he's well-versed in party small talk. "'m a business major! what about you?" you continue to smile, being completely enamored by him, and utterly shocked at his sudden interest in you. "business, nice. me too. you got insta?"
you practically flinch at his words, eyes fluttering and eyebrows raising once you fully register the question. "mhm! yea! one sec." you frantically whip your phone out and begin to scroll through your apps. instagram. "this is me." you turn your phone to face him, practically shoving it into his face as he pulls up your account on his own device.
he takes a minute to continue your conversation, intently scrolling through your pictures and reading through your bio, leaving you to internally panic. holy shit. rafe cameron, just asked me for my instagram.
"nice. see you around miss y/n, yea?" he drops his voice into a sweeter tone, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "mhm yea!" he leaves you with a smirk and a wave, knowing he'll come back to see you later.
the rest is history.
#💌#♡ rosie writes ! ୨🎀୧#rafe cameron#frat boy rafe cameron#sorority girl!reader <3#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron headcanons#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction
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It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.
In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.
The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.
Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.
You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.
And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.
The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."
It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.
So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"
You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.
"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"
"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"
"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."
Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.
The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"
Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.
He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."
You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.
You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.
This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.
"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."
You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."
"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"
You shake your head.
"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."
It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...
You don't think you can do this.
Then his hand is on the back of your head.
You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.
A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."
There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."
"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."
His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.
You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.
He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.
You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?
But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.
The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.
"That's better," he says.
The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.
You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.
He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.
This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.
You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.
You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.
You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.
Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.
All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...
"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.
He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.
It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.
You don't respond.
You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.
#CW im told this one is realer than usual so be warned#r@pe fantasy#cnc free use#cvmdump#cvmslvt#breeding toy#r@petoy#r@pe kink
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Hi, hope you're alright. I came up with a story idea: the reader is married to Gasly's/Daniel's close friend but their marriage is hanging by a thread. The driver invites her to a few races so she can change the environment, they spend some time together and unexpectedly become lovers. And maybe later her husband is trying to fix their marriage but she and the driver can't stop thinking about each other
His Best Man || DR3
A/N: I took some creative liberties with the plot but I think it does this request justice 💕 ps: never condone cheating, it's horrible and this is purely fictional
Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, cheating, smut
WC: 7.6k
F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction
Dinner with James was a quiet affair, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Why would your anniversary be any different when his indifference was the only constant at this point?
You watched as he smiled at his phone, something you hadn’t been able to elicit from him in months, before he locked the device and placed it facedown on the table. The sigh that wanted to exhale from your flared nostrils barely remained silent as you focused on shifting the food around your plate, your appetite gone like the connection to your husband.
“Daniel sent us some passes to the race in Melbourne next month. I thought we could go, make a little holiday out of it?”
There was no excitement in your tone, it was more a question borne out of politeness because he would have seen the paddock passes sitting on the kitchen side if he ever looked away from his phone. The blasted device vibrated again and his fork clattered on his plate in his rush to read the incoming message.
“Well?” you asked as his thumbs flew across his screen.
“Can’t. Work project is going to keep me busy until the deadline,” he answered without looking up. “Take one of your friends, have a girls trip.”
Friends…those people you never saw anymore because James hadn’t liked them, though he never outright said it, those friends who had warned you that you were marrying a narcissist.
“It’s our anniversary,” you reminded him. “You know, falls on the same day each year.”
“Mhmm, yeah,” he nodded, clearly not listening. “Sounds good.”
You propped your elbow onto the glass tabletop and dropped your chin onto your palm as a familiar burn of resentment simmered in your soul. “The mailman gave me a pearl necklace.”
“That’s nice. Put it on my credit card.” He reached into his back pocket and tossed his wallet across the table, narrowly missing the glass of rosé.
You opened it and saw the polaroid from your wedding day no longer sat in the clear card slot but was stuffed behind his drivers licence. You shouldn’t have felt hurt after months of being ignored but the pain still surprised you, almost as much as the condom that you found with his cash. He hadn’t bought a box of condoms in at least three years, not since the wedding when you started trying for a baby - something that was probably best that it didn't happen.
“He must eat a lot of pineapples because it tasted delicious,” you murmured as you took his cash and the platinum credit card too.
James nodded and pushed his empty plate away. “Yeah, tasted good, thanks. Need to finish this project.” He rose from the table with his phone and started to make his way down the hall to his office. “Don’t wait up.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” You had a trip to plan.
You weren’t going to have a girls weekend but you were going to Melbourne. He may have been James’ friend first, but no one had the ability to turn a bad day (or year) around like Daniel could.
When you arrived in Perth you hadn’t expected Danny to be the one personally waiting at the airport. It was impossible to miss him with the amount of people that surrounded him, asking for pictures and autographs before he spotted you stepping out of customs.
You didn’t need to read lips to see him apologising to everyone as he made his way towards you, holding up a large welcome sign for ‘Roo’. You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you after one drunken night that ended with you tangled in a hammock, your head poking out of the material like a joey in a kangaroo pouch. You were only grateful he hadn’t nicknamed you Joey since the name had stuck over the years.
Your greeting turned to a peal of laughter as he dropped the sign and swept you into a hug that lifted your feet off the ground to spin you around.
“I’ve missed you, you beaut!” Danny’s smile was contagious and even when your feet were securely back on the ground he still kept his arms around you. “A shame James can’t come, but we can totally make his jealous as fuck for ditching us. One week, you, me, road trip to Melbourne.”
Day One - Perth to Kalgoorlie
“I hope you know where we are going.”
Daniel laughed and just winked from the driver's seat of his Ford Ranger. It had been three hours of driving on the highway and you had not passed one town in the dusty landscape.
“It’s not far, just down the road a little more,” Danny said for the third time. “We still have half a tank of gas and a crate of Vitamin B, we’ll be fine if we need to camp.”
You quirked an eyebrow up as you looked in the backseat and saw the green box of Victoria Bitter beer strapped with a seatbelt.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to camp anywhere,” you scoffed, tucking your knee up as the song changed to another country song from his endless playlist. “Spiders, snakes, dingoes, and your snoring. I think not.”
Daniel laughed and indicated to pull off the road despite there not being another soul within what felt like hundreds of kilometres.
“I’m sorry I said you snore, please don’t leave me here.”
His laugh only intensified as he turned the engine off and turned to face you. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Roo.”
“Then why have you stopped?” You tested the window but it had powered off with the engine. “It’s a freaking sauna in here.”
“Because you haven’t been yourself all day and there’s no cell reception out here so there’s nothing to distract you.” He took the useless device from your hand and tossed it in the glove compartment. “What’s going on with you and James?”
“Nothing,” you muttered as his brown eyes narrowed. “Seriously, there’s nothing going on with him. We hardly speak anymore and he sleeps in his office when he’s not out of town on another ‘business trip’. It’s just…nothing.”
Daniel’s brows pinched together in confusion as he sucked a lungful of air through his teeth. “But…what the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” you exclaimed as you threw your hands in the air, just as clueless. “What do you want me to say? That he’s having an affair, or that one day he just stopped caring, or both?”
You turned away as it wasn’t a bead of sweat that rolled down your cheek when you sighed in defeat. Unable to withstand the heat without the air conditioner, you tugged the door handle and checked the dirt for any unwanted animals before jumping down from the running boards.
Daniel was already getting out his side and circling the bullbars before you could wipe the tears away but the sob you had tried to suppress clawed its way out when he pulled you against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly as he rubbed your back and let your tears soak into his shirt. “He can be a bit of a cunt, but I never thought he could do that to you.”
“He did and it’s done,” you admitted with a raspy voice that was still strained from the emotion choking each word. “I moved my stuff out last week, not that he even noticed. I thought I could have a break to get away from it all and deal with a divorce when I get back.”
“That fucking idiot,” Daniel said as he pulled his shirt up to wipe your tears away. “He just lost the best thing in the world and he doesn’t even know it.”
Day Two - Kalgoorlie to Caiguna
It was another long day of driving but after the broken sleep spent tossing and turning you weren’t much of a companion. You had eventually drifted off to sleep to the country music that Daniel loved so much and dreamt of crawling through fields of watermelons but the paddock soon turned to mud and you sank under the suffocating weight with it filling your lungs.
“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Danny soothed as you startled awake, his quick reflexes throwing his arm out to catch you from hitting the window. You could still feel the filthy fluid on your skin and shivered as you changed the song over and took a shuddering breath. “Bad dream?”
You rolled your shoulders and twisted your stiff neck, groaning at the crick that had come from using the seatbelt as a pillow. “Just weird.”
His eyes darted away from the endless road ahead and saw you trying to massage your neck before he brushed your hand aside. There certainly were perks to his strength training because his fingers were a godsend as they erased the knots that had formed.
“Hmmm, thank you,” you sighed deeply and his lips tipped up at the sound.
“Anytime. Hope you got the rest you needed, there’s a stop ahead and these guys know how to throw down.”
You narrowed your eyes at the horizon that was blurred by heatwaves and tried to see what lay beyond but gave up after a few seconds. “Throw down what?”
“Huh?”
“What are they throwing down?”
“Throw down,” he said slowly as if it would somehow make you understand but you were still confused. “Party, drink, dance. Throw down.”
“Oh, throw down, why didn’t you just say that?”
He laughed at your sarcasm and squeezed your knee. “You could definitely do with a drink or two and loosen up. Then I can get my old Roo back.”
“As long as I’m not expected to sleep in a hammock again.”
The motel was a little rough and run down but it had four walls and the bathroom was clean enough to last one night. Daniel had barely given you enough time to get changed into fresh clothes before he was knocking on your door ready to escort you next door to the bar. Coincidentally, the bar was also the restaurant, service station and grocery store all rolled into one.
You and Danny were by far the youngest people in the place but it didn’t stop the warm welcome from everyone. If any of the patrons knew who he was they hid it well because they treated him just like any other stranger passing through.
“Where ya from?”
“Where ya headed?”
“Watch out for ol’ Deloris, she’ll try take a bite out of ya.”
The questions came in quick succession and you looked around the room trying to figure out which of the ladies was Deloris only to find the name on a plaque beneath a huge crocodile head suspended from the rafters.
“Fuck me,” you gasped as you took a step back, bumping into Danny as he laughed along with the bartender.
“Gets ‘em every time,” he chuckled as he placed two large bottles of beer onto the well worn bartop. “Looks like ya sheila could use something a little stronger.”
Daniel’s large hands landed on your shoulders and started to massage the tense muscles. “There’s no crocs ‘round here, isn’t enough water,” he whispered to calm your nerves. “Deloris was probably a pet.”
“Who in their right mind would keep that as a pet?”
“Probably someone not in their right mind.” His warm laugh tickled your ear before he turned you back to the bartender to grab your drink. “Cheers.”
Daniel found a small table in the surprisingly busy restaurant space and it appeared as if most of the locals were keeping the economy running in the place. It was strange to think that the faded walls decorated with old photographs of the glory days gone by felt more homely than the one you had built with James.
You could easily see yourself placing a coin on the pool table to save your place in the queue or ordering the fresh market fish off the menu without questioning how it was fresh so far from the sea. You could see yourself walking in to see the same faces at the end of a long week and the barman would listen to your complaints as he poured your usual without needing to be asked.
You took a generous gulp of beer that Daniel swore was ‘the good stuff’ and hummed at the hoppy flavour as it quenched the thirst that hadn’t stopped since you stepped foot in the country. It was no wonder why they liked their beers so much, they needed whatever they could to cool their bodies down.
“I like this place,” you said with a smile that Danny returned with pride.
“Thought you might, and tomorrow’ll be even better.”
“Where are we going tomorrow?”
Daniel shook his head and occupied his lips with the bottle so he could keep you in the dark a little longer. You didn’t mind this type of surprise, knowing he wanted to make you smile and was planning everything could to make that happen on the road trip.
The doldrum tune that was playing from the corner of the bar was interrupted as a coin was slotted into the jukebox and Josh Turner’s Your Man came on the machine. Couples around the bar and restaurant left their belongings and made their way to the dance floor. Where you came from no one would do that, and if they did their belongings wouldn’t be there when they returned.
Beneath the table you could feel Daniel’s foot tapping in time to the beat and his fingers drummed on the long neck he lifted to his lips. He caught the longing in your eyes as you watched a grey haired man holding his wife, slowly swaying together like you had imagined you would with James in 40 years.
“Come on, Roo,” he invited as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. His palm was cold and damp from the beer bottle but it was refreshing on your skin with the heat that still lingered with the setting sun. Leading you to the edge of the dance floor he pulled you close and curled an arm around your waist as he started to sing along. “I've been thinking 'bout this all day long, never felt a feeling quite this strong, I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man. I know you know the words, don’t be shy.”
It was impossible to feel embarrassed with him, even if you butchered the song he would still smile like he was listening to his favourite artist live. So, you placed your hand in his and the other rested on his shoulder as you started to sway and sing along.
“There's no hurry, don't you worry, we can take our time. Come a little closer, let's go over, what I had in mind.”
Daniel let go of you and your head fell back with a laugh as he spun you away and pulled you back. You could only giggle as you returned out of step and ended with your back to his chest instead of face to face but he adapted quickly and held your waist instead.
“Baby lock the door and turn the lights down low,” his voice was deep and rich in your ear, intimate and full of promise that hit you unexpectedly. “And put some music on that's soft and slow. Baby we ain't got no place to go, I hope you understand.”
You were glad you weren’t facing him as his words affected you in a way you couldn’t remember feeling for over a year. The very air seemed to thicken in your lungs as you felt every inch of his body fitting against yours. You could feel the veins on his hands as you laced your fingers with his and guided them down to your hips.
This was the first time the lines had blurred throughout the years of friendship and you allowed yourself to feel wanted, if only for a song.
Day Three - Caiguna to Yalata
The pounding in your head turned out to be banging on your door and you somehow found the strength to answer it. Bright sunlight flooded in through the crack and you groaned as you covered your eyes.
“Good morning sunshine,” Daniel greeted brightly as he stepped inside. “It’s 7am on another stunning day here in Straya.”
You playfully shoved Danny and he rolled with it to splay across your bed, the blankets still tucked in from collapsing atop them last night.
“7am is too early,” you complained as you climbed into the small space he left on the twin sized bed, curling onto your side and throwing your arm over your face to block out the light. “Let me sleep.”
“You can sleep in the car.” His fingers danced teasingly over your ribs and you jutted your elbow back into his hard abs before he could properly tickle you. “Ouch, you’re not very nice in the morning.”
“This isn’t morning, this is still night,” you grumbled as his arm draped over your waist instead.
“The sun is up.”
“Tell that to the people of Norway. It can be sunny at midnight there.”
You could feel him silently laughing at you as it shook the bed. “But we aren’t in Norway.”
“Shh,” you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. “Let me go back to sleep.”
“Fine,” he conceded, making some adjustments to the pillow before shoving his arm under your head, “but just because I’m comfortable now.”
The hangover was gone by the time you woke naturally and you felt refreshed as you stretched lazily. Rolling over in Daniel’s arms you found his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly with soft snores. You raised your head a little to see the alarm clock that was probably considered vintage in the 80’s and saw it was well past check out time. Luckily it didn't appear that the No Vacancy sign was ever used, so there was no rush to leave.
The small movement was enough to wake him and your stomach clenched at the smile that brightened your day more than the blistering sun outside when his honey brown eyes opened.
“I can’t believe this,” you tutted as you let him pull you closer against his chest. “I was ready to go at 7 and you just went back to sleep…so lazy.”
“How rude of me,” he chuckled. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Woah,” you whispered breathlessly as the truck bounced to a stop on the hard sand of the tidal line. “It’s beautiful.”
“Isn’t it just,” Daniel grinned as he opened his door and looked across at you. “Coming in?”
You bit your lip as your eyes feasted on the picturesque scene. Big barrel waves crashing out in the bay and white sand welcoming bare feet on the shore, it was a sight pretty enough to make angels cry. Hopping out, you rounded the four wheel drive ute and sat on the metal bar running across the front, distracted by the breathtaking view. “What about sharks?”
Daniel’s door shut and you turned to the sound in time to see him pulling his singlet over his head and tossing it through the backseat window before unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans off too. It was impossible not to stare at the hard planes of his chest or the definition of his abs, and then the thick thighs that were barely covered by his boxers.
“The chances of a shark attack are less than…” His words trailed off as he looked up and caught you blatantly staring, his teeth sparkling as a big smile grew on his face. “The view is spectacular, am I right or am I right?”
“You or the beach?”
“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” he said as he started to flex his arms, “but if you think I’m spectacular then I would accept that.”
You closed your eyes from the harsh sunlight and tipped your head back to feel the rays on your cheeks as you laughed. “You’ve never had to worry about your ego, have you?”
He sent you a playful pout as he walked towards you, his thongs flicking up golden sand behind him with each step. “It would take a hit if you didn’t come swim with me.”
You hadn’t realised quite how many types of heat there was until that moment. There was the heat of the bonnet from hours of driving beneath you, the heat of the sun in the sky above and the heat of his hands that landed on your knees. It was the heat of his hands that seeped into your blood and spread throughout your body, increasing to boiling point as they slowly ran up your thighs.
Your knees unconsciously parted for him and he stepped into the space so you were eye to eye and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “There’s nets out past the reef, you’ll be safe with me.”
You took a sharp intake of air as his fingers caught the hem of your shirt and his knuckles grazed your skin. “Well?” he asked quietly. “Trust me?”
You swallowed deeply as you nodded and he rewarded you with another of those smiles you had come to love before he lifted your shirt up and left it on the hood of the truck so he could grab you around the waist and haul you over his shoulder.
“Daniel!” you yelped as the world was suddenly upside down and he kicked his thongs off before jogging towards the water. “Don’t you dare dunk me.”
You expected the next sudden shift when the water reached his knees but as quick as he tossed you up off his shoulder he caught you again with a booming laugh. His arms were bound around your thighs and your hands planted on his shoulders as you looked down at his amused face.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he promised as he eased his grip, your body sliding down his until you were once more eye to eye. “I just want to make you smile.”
Day Four - Yalata to Port Lincoln
As much as you had found yourself enjoying the historical rich motels in the outback, you were just as happy to find the accommodation in Port Lincoln was a five star resort on the waterfront. The sun was just starting to set when you arrived at the hotel and checked into the two bedroom suite with a gorgeous view of the harbour.
“I never knew driving could be so exhausting,” you said as you dropped into the swing chair on the large balcony.
“Don’t worry, tomorrow’s a rest day so you can recover from all that driving you didn’t even do,” Daniel pointed out with a smirk, taking the spot beside you and taking over the leg exercise of swinging it back and forth. “We can do whatever you want, just can’t miss the boat to Adelaide tomorrow night.”
It was nice spending so much time alone with Daniel on the road, comfortable conversations rolling like the tires on the highway, but a change of pace would be welcomed. “What is there to do?”
“Hmm,” he frowned and stood up. “Let me go see.”
Daniel disappeared out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a stack of brochures that he had taken from the tourist stands in reception and you met him on the couch inside where the pleasant offshore wind couldn’t whip them away. Together you flicked through them, separating them into three piles of yes, no and maybe.
“Sure you don’t wanna cage dive?” he teased as you threw that particular brochure across the room. “You could get up close and personal with a Great White. Once in a lifetime opportunity right there.”
You snorted and shook your head. “Once in a lifetime because it would kill me. Not happening.”
“Here, that’s a yes for you.”
You took the advert for a farm park where you could hand feed the animals and added it to the yes pile. “Maybe next year we can go to your farm…unless James gets you in the divorce.” Your lips turned down at the idea and you realised you had hardly thought of your husband, but now that you had he had disturbed your peace even though he was thousands of miles away.
Daniel reached over the coffee table to the stationary set, grabbing a hotel engraved pen before pulling his shoe off. “It’s just like Toy Story,” he said as he waved the pen in your face. “Put your name on me first.”
You managed a small laugh as you took the pen and clicked the nib out. “Should tattoo it so it doesn’t wash off.”
Daniel squirmed on the couch as the pen tickled his foot and you grabbed his ankle so he couldn’t move too much but he started to giggle uncontrollably as the nib ran over his instep. “How long does it take to write Roo?”
You laughed and kept going before he wretched his foot free and crossed his leg over his knee to see your full first and last name on it - maiden name, not married.
“For legal purposes,” you said as you clicked the pen nib away and tossed it on the table.
“Fair enough.” He grinned at the writing everytime he looked at his crossed leg and draped his arm over the back of the cushion as you returned to the seat. “You can come by the farm anytime, don’t have to wait for next year.”
“Except for shearing season,” you smirked as you remembered that mistake where you were roped into helping the jackaroos round the sheep up and shave them. “I have no interest in losing all feeling in my arms again.”
“Earned that beer though,” he said with a chuckle as he started to massage your neck. “I was so proud, you weren’t afraid to get stuck in and help. I kinda thought you were a bit of a princess ‘til then.”
Your nose crinkled at the endearment James used to call you. “Well I’m glad I got rid of that image. But, out of curiosity, what do you think I am now?”
The smile could only be described as devilish as his hand spread across your nape and guided you closer to him. His eyes held you captivated and his lips parted with his answer but it was silenced by the sound of ringtone breaking the tension and like a puppet whose strings were cut he fell back into his seat. The emotion in his eyes was erased with a blink and you reached blindly for your phone, answering the call without needing to see who it was from.
“Hey, isn’t it like midnight?” you asked as you lifted the device to your ear but there was no answer at the other end. “Hello? James?”
“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby. God, Laura, you’re so perfect.” The phone slipped from your grasp as you heard the muted but unmistakable sound of James’ voice.
Daniel frowned as he picked the phone up from your lap and lifted it to his ear, shock registering before it transformed into anger and he hung up the phone without breaking the screen with the force of it. He discarded the phone and pulled you into his lap in the same instance but you didn’t hear what he said as you buried your face in his neck and grappled onto him for dear life.
Day Five - Port Lincoln to Adelaide
You didn’t feel like doing anything other than staying in bed and sleeping the day away but Daniel wouldn’t let you waste another minute of your time because of James. In a way you could understand the logic and as a big ‘fuck you’ to him you were going to get your shit together and go and have fun.
Daniel worked even harder to get a smile or a laugh out of you and kept his camera on hand to capture the moments he succeeded. The animal farm did make you feel a little better and holding a joey as you bottle fed it was finally enough to break through the invasive cloud that had hung over you.
“Roo and Roo Two,” Danny commented as he moved around taking a million shots of you.
“Need a hand?” a passing couple offered after watching Daniel try and extend his arm enough to get in the shot too.
“That’d be a dream,” Daniel nodded and he handed his camera over before sitting down beside you and curling his arm around your waist. The joey was almost asleep from drinking all of the milk and Daniel grinned at you as he stroked its neck. “Looks like you when you sleep.”
You grinned back, forgetting about the camera. “Cute, right?”
“Yup, that’s, uh, exactly what I was thinking.” He cleared his throat and scratched his neck awkwardly before laughing when your elbow connected with his ribs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re a cutie-tootie when you sleep…it’s another story when you’re awake.”
His laugh was loud enough to wake the joey when you nudged him again with an offended look. “What? You’re beautiful when you’re awake.”
“That’s totally what you meant,” you said sarcastically before rolling your eyes. “Just look at the camera and smile like a normal person.”
He tipped his head to yours and smiled brightly for the camera, but he couldn’t resist whispering, “Bold of you to assume I know how to be normal.”
Day Six - Adelaide to Portland
It took a moment to recollect the events from the night before and it wasn’t because of the many wine tastings you had gone to around the Port Lincoln area. Perhaps that had a little bit to do with it, but mostly it was because you had fallen asleep in the truck to the gentle rocking motion of the ferry but now you were tucked into an unfamiliar bed.
“Danny?” you called out as you tossed the covers back and found you were still in yesterday's clothes. You could hear some sounds outside of the room but Daniel hadn't answered your call so you picked up the coat rack from the corner and quickly opened the door.
“Jesus Christ.” Daniel jumped back as you waved the long pole his way. “What the fuck?”
You sagged in the doorway and dropped the makeshift weapon to clutch your chest. “You gave me a fright.”
“I gave you a fright?” he asked incredulously. “You gave me a fucking heart attack. What were you going to do with this?” He swiped the coat rack off the floor and couldn’t stop himself from laughing at it. “Please don’t give me a concussion before the race.”
“But any other time is good?” you quipped as your lips tipped up now that your heart rate was returning to normal. “How did I get to bed?”
He flexed his arms with a cocky grin. “I tried to wake you up but you were dead to the world. And now that sleeping beauty is awake, how about we go out for breakfast? There’s meant to be a huge market that sells a bit of everything that we could check out after.”
You held a finger up as you looked down at your clothes and heard your stomach rumble, answering the question of whether to shower or not first. “Just give me one minute to change.”
Daniel had obviously been awake for a while being an early bird so he was ready and waiting at the door when you reappeared, his hand held out and waiting for yours. The lines between friendship and more were getting blurrier each day but it no longer felt wrong as you laced your fingers with his and stepped outside.
“Are you limping?” you asked with a frown as he kept his weight on one side the entire walk to the market.
“No, just got pins and needles in my foot.”
An hour later he was still favouring his right foot so you steered him back towards the hotel so he didn’t make it worse before you got to Melbourne. “You should probably see a doctor.”
Daniel dropped onto the couch and stole the remote to choose a movie, patting the space beside him so he could kiss your temple after joining him. “You worry too much, I’ll be fine.”
“You’re quiet,” Daniel commented as he turned off the tv. “What’s got you thinking so loud?”
You chewed your bottom lip as he called you out. He was too observant, or you were too easy to read. “It’s our last night together.”
“You’re still going to stay with me for the weekend, right?” He shifted in his seat to face you and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand as he waited for an answer.
You nodded and he relaxed a little only to freeze as you spoke, “But you’ll be busy, we don’t have time to hang out.”
“I’ll always make time for you,” he promised as he pulled you into his lap. “This week with you has been…spectacular.”
“Spectacular is pretty high in the standards of compliments,” you reminded him, much to his amusement.
His smile softened as his fingers trailed along your jaw and down your neck to trace your collarbone. “Which is why it’s reserved for very, very good things.”
You were almost certain he could hear your heart racing like thunderous hoof beats in a quiet desert. The blood was pumping around your body carrying the oxygen you needed to replace but couldn’t seem to draw the air into your lungs as he leaned forward.
“You were his best man,” you whispered with the last of your breath as you felt the heat of his lips so close to yours.
“But I’ve always been the best man for you.”
The first kiss was softer than the wind, tentative and testing as you learned how your body responded to the caress before hunger yearned for something deeper. A deep moan rumbled from Daniel’s chest as your tongue rolled across his lips that parted for you and his arms encircled you to hold you tight, as if he were clinging to the spell so it couldn’t be broken.
“Please, Danny,” you sighed longingly as his hands slipped under the summer dress you wore and his thumbs teased you with painfully slow circles on your thighs. “You have never been a patient man, don’t start now.”
His quiet laugh heated the skin of your neck that he kissed with such tenderness you wanted to cry. It had been so long since you had been touched in such a way that you couldn’t wait any longer.
“Please,” you begged as you rolled your hips over his cock that was straining against his shorts. You moaned as the hard length brushed over your panties and a reciprocal sound came from Daniel before he stood up abruptly.
“Fuck, I wanted to take my time with you,” he murmured against your lips as he blindly walked to the closest bedroom.
“Later,” you promised. “Right now I need you to get me out of this goddamn dress and fuck me.”
Day Seven - Portland to Melbourne
“Oh, fuck off,” you growled as your phone rang on the bedside drawers. You rolled back into Daniel’s embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist as he saw at the voicemail notification before it started to ring again.
“He’s just going to keep calling,” Daniel said with a sigh that turned to a yawn after the late night spent getting to know each other's bodies intimately. “You’ll have to talk to him at some point.”
“I know, I just want to savour this moment before the drama starts. I can’t remember the last time I woke up like this, happy and content. I’m not ready for that to end.”
“What makes you think I’ll let this end?” he teased as he rolled you onto your back and trailed wet kisses down your neck. “I might just write my name on your foot too and call you mine.”
The warmth of the blankets disappeared as Daniel made his way down your body, kissing the entire length of you before settling between your legs as the phone rang again.
“Answer it,” Daniel ordered as his fingertips delicately traced the stretch marks across your hips, committing every inch of your body to his memory. “Or he won’t go away.”
You tried to find any hint of resentment in his face as you reached for the phone but there was only an air of smugness as he made himself comfortable, resting his head on your thigh.
“I think we have been robbed,” James said without even a hello as you answered the call on speakerphone. “Everything in the guest room is gone.”
A huff of amusement bubbled at the image of him standing in the empty room, his face crumpled in confusion as he scratched his head. “It’s at my apartment.”
“What apartment? What are you on about?”
“The apartment I rented before I moved out two weeks ago. The one I will be living in when I get back.” Daniel’s fingers traced the waistband of your panties and your breath hitched as they slipped beneath the lace.
“Bullshit,” he laughed but there was a hint of uncertainty in the sound. “Just come home and talk about this before you make any rash decisions. I know I have been busy with work lately-"
“More like busy with Laura.” The air that hissed between your teeth could have been mistaken for anger but it was entirely from the devilish look in Daniel’s eyes as he bit the soft skin along your inner thigh.
“Laura’s my assistant.”
The laugh turned to a gasp as Daniel pushed the lace aside and ran his tongue through your folds, his eyes rolling up to watch your reaction, the phone falling from your hand as you reached for his hair. You tugged the strands as his tongue circled your clit and you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping as you arched your back at the growing pleasure.
“Fuck, yeah, just like that baby,” you begged shamelessly and he chuckled as he felt your walls flutter around the fingers he curled into your cunt. “God, Daniel, you’re so perfect.”
A round of expletives filled the air as James heard a real orgasm take over your body but they fell silent as he realised why the words seemed so familiar. You weren’t just accusing him of fucking Laura, you knew. And you were using his best friend to show him.
“Some friend you are, sack of shit,” James growled as you whimpered with the aftershocks of the orgasm.
“Some husband you were,” Daniel snickered as he tore your panties off and climbed up your body to kiss you, sharing the taste of your pleasure on his tongue before he picked up the phone. “You lost the best thing you had, mate. I won’t make the same mistake you did.”
Daniel ended the call stared down at you in wonder as a slow smile started to spread across his face. “I don’t think he will be calling back.”
It may have been the high of the orgasm, or it could have been the knowledge that after a year of enduring the decaying marriage, but you were free - either way, you were giddy with joy as you wrapped your legs around Daniel’s hips and pulled him closer.
“I can’t believe you did that,” you giggled as you hooked your fingers into his boxers and pushed them over his hips.
“He had to know who you belong to now, he had his chance.” His voice was pure decadence in your ear as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds before stretching you wide as he thrust forward and stilled. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size and brushed a gentle kiss across your lips before captivating you with his golden brown eyes. “Still want to know what I think you are?”
Your fingers ran softly down his back, feeling each bump on his spine right down to the twin dimples at the base. “Tell me,” you whispered as your hands grasped the firm muscles of his ass, your nails digging in to spur him into moving.
“Mine.”
Melbourne Grand Prix - Race Day
The screams of Daniel’s home crowd were intoxicating and you couldn’t help cupping your hands around your mouth and joining in as he parked front and centre of the pitlane having won his home race. Climbing out of the car, stood atop the halo and threw his fists in the air before tearing his helmet off and holding it up too, tapping his finger on the large number 3.
You couldn’t help but notice how he still favoured his right foot after he jumped off the car and rushed towards his team, grappling them into strong hugs that probably crushed the air out of their lungs - not that they cared as they ran on adrenaline after the race.
“Wow, Daniel, what a race! You were absolutely flying!” the interviewer praised after he took his microphone and joined her in front of the Sky Sports camera. “Looking at some of those high speed corners, it looked like you were fighting to keep the race line.”
“I couldn’t brake hard if I tried,” he laughed and combed his sweaty hair back through his fingers. “Got a fresh tattoo and it’s still a little tender.”
“On your foot?” Naomi asked as she pointed to his Red Bull boot.
“Yeah, glad it wasn’t on my throttle one or I don’t think I’d be up here,” he joked.
“I’m certain I am asking on behalf of everyone when I say, can we see it?” A cheer from the crowd confirmed her statement and your fingers gripped the metal barrier as goosebumps broke over your skin.
“No way,” you mumbled under your breath as you shook your head to get rid of the ridiculous thought you had.
“Sure, I’ll need this off for my shoey anyway,” he said as he pulled the boot off along with his sock. Turning around, he bent his knee so the sole of his foot could be seen and looked over his shoulder, grinning as he found you at the barrier with his team.
“Aww, look at that, it’s adorable,” Naomi gushed as she saw the basic outline of a kangaroo on the sole of his foot. “What a way to pay homage to your nation!”
You bit your lip from smiling too hard when he started to laugh as she completely misunderstood what the picture meant. “Of course!”
He excused himself quickly and hopped towards you, not wanting to get the days old tattoo dirty on the ground.
“You’re actually insane,” you gasped as you slapped his chest playfully, still in disbelief that he had the word Roo tattooed on his foot beneath the picture.
He leaned in closer so he could talk without fear of being overheard and you inhaled the purely masculine scent of him enveloping you as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “It was your idea, and if you didn’t sleep so much you would have been awake to come and get it done with me.”
You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as his hot hands came to rest on top of yours. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed that it isn’t my full name.”
“Do you know how ticklish that was? I would have wet myself trying to get your whole name.”
You smirked at him, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening with his growing smile. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“Does anyone have a marker pen?” Daniel asked loudly and about half a dozen were thrust his way in an instant.
“What are you doing?” you asked as you took a step back but the crowd was so tightly packed there was nowhere to go.
“Foot,” he said as he tapped the barrier, “up. It’s not a tattoo…yet.”
“You’re insane,” you laughed as you shook your head but instead he dropped to his knees and caught your ankle under the barrier.
“And you’re mine, I just need to…stop wriggling,” he complained as he pulled your shoe off and bit the cap off the marker before inking your sole. Twisting your foot about you saw his driver number covering the skin and bit your lip at the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he flipped the pen in his hand. “There, that’s better.”
“Is it?” you joked as you slipped your shoe back on. “I would have said spectacular.”
You were always surprised that his smile could somehow brighten, even when it seemed like it couldn’t possibly grow any more. But his smile grew as stepped closer and his hand reached for the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as much as the barrier allowed.
“Spectacular?” he echoed before crushing his lips to yours until you were breathless and forgot where you were. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”
Daniel's Road Trip Playlist:
Cruise - Florida Georgia Line
Watermelon Crawl - Tracy Byrd
Your Man - Josh Turner
You Make It Easy - Jason Aldean
Right Now the Best - Zach Bryan
Over For You - Morgan Evans
Live Like You Were Dying - Tim McGraw
Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett
Butterflies - Kacey Musgraves
Click here for additional part.
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#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 smut#f1 rpf#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic
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call it fate, call it karma
next: hard to explain | masterlist
pairing: bd!joel miller x f!reader
word count: ~4.3k
summary: it’s summer. and on a weekend visit to your college beau, you meet a texan contractor with wandering eyes. what he sees is what he wants. what happens if he wants you?
warnings: this is a dark, explicit fic, minors DO NOT interact. big, girthy age gap (reader is in her early twenties, joel is in his late 40s to early 50s), masturbation, possible dubious consent, explicit p-in-v sex, fingering, cheating(? but it's mutual HAHAHA). please let me know if i missed anything!
reblogs and comments are much appreciated, please let me know what you think!
Finals, madness, nights of mindless regurgitating, and finally, peace. Emerging from your last exam and into the allure of summer break, you try and picture the weekend you had planned with Christopher: a weekend at his father's house, with the promise of a pool and actually, finally spending time together, and driving you home by Monday while he returns to his mother's place.
The two of you pull into Texas, discussing what to have for lunch, whether or not you should bring some for his father. "It'll be nice, no?" you tell him as you add the extra box of pizza. "And hey, if he doesn't want it, let's devour it over movies in your room." He smiles at you, and you ruffle his hair just as he parks in front of the familiar house.
When you're reintroduced to the older mister Miller, you see him at the tail-end of a phone call just as your presence is announced. "You've met before, we had her at Thanksgiving," Christopher reminds, carrying your bags in.
You hear a woman's voice, just slightly, from the phone (... mean it, no strange women…), mister Miller looking up with a rushed, "I got it, I got it…" before finally setting the phone down. He offers you a warm smile, nodding in recognition before welcoming his son with a shoulder squeeze. He says your name, and you try not to smile at the way he says it with that almost-indistinguishable drawl of his. "Still not tired of him, sweet pea?"
You remember that Thanksgiving. How you and mister Miller bonded over when you drove Chris's car back and panicked over a flat tire you caused while he was off with some buddies. You bonded because he taught you how to fix a tire that afternoon, him laughing at your small hands struggling with such big boy paraphernalia as you coined it.
You smile back at him and shake his hand. "Thanks for letting me stay over the weekend, sir," you say just as your partner disappears upstairs to set down your things. Just then, he tuts, taking a slice out of one of the pizza boxes, along with a newly opened bottle of beer.
"Told ya, doll. It's just Joel. Don't have too much fun, yeah?"
—
Joel didn't mean to stare when he last saw you. When you were kneeling over, lowering the jack after he taught you how to change a tire. You were in your colleague sweater, but your pants… dear God, your pants. Your pants that perfectly hugged the curve of your ass struck him dumb. He barely managed to shake himself out of it to tell you that youbdid a good job.
But since then, he had been imagining your ass. It's as if the sight of a college girl turned him right back to a drooling, horny teenager that never had enough. He did keep his hands to himself, never making a move. And he would've been happy to let you and Christopher be if he didn't start picturing you in those lonely nights when the house is quiet and he has his cock in his hand.
But it was impossible.
Just the thought of your ass cheeks red, bearing a handprint that perfectly fit the contours of his own hands, your curves, your flesh, the smell of your skin— such was the callings of his desire as he bursts, imagining that glass-eyed look on your face if you were taking his cock.
There was no shame in it, when he did finally give in to his desires. How could he not? You had fuck eyes for days, eyes that, if he was being completely honest, would damn God himself to the very gates of hell. There was no shame, too, when he realized just how much his own son wasn't taking care of you.
So seeing you again, now sprawled in a lovely little swimsuit as his own son holds you by your waist as you wade into the pool. He watches from the kitchen, knowing his looks would go unnoticed in the shade. It was burning outside, and it was still Friday. The street was quiet with everyone still away for school and work. He just couldn't stay away from you. When Christopher told him you were with him, he had cancelled plans, even work, on a Friday, under the pretense of bad health and multiple other excuses. He knows, for a fact, that he'd take every chance to see those fuck eyes of yours even if you never asked.
He knows, too, if he was getting you in his bed, he had to be creative about it.
Still, Christopher could be a little more discreet. Instead, there you were, nodding to him as he corners you in his own pool in his own house, reaching down to pull your bottoms aside to fuck up into you. He's gotten to know your quirks enough. How your creased brows indicate your frustration. Or how your shoulders tense from apprehension. And right there, where Christopher attempts to find his own orgasm without even a care in the world for your own, you're so frigid he would think you bathed in the Arctic.
The charade doesn't last long. Three minutes, by his count, until you're pulling away, swimming to the nearest floatie to lounge while Christopher tires himself out with a few laps. It's then that Joel pretends to swoop in, bringing out a few drinks in service of the two of you, slipping on some sunglasses so you wouldn't notice him ogling your willing body as you thank him.
"Got you that grape drink you liked last time, doll. Help yourself to more in the fridge if you want it."
"Thanks m-" he lowers his glasses to playfully raise his brow at you, "J-Joel. Thanks, Joel…" He flashes you a smirk, placing his glasses back on as he seats himself on the nearest spot, pretending to be in need of some sun.
"Chris, your mom's waiting for you to call," he reminds his son, leaning back as he sips from his beer. Just then, your beau sits up, wiping his mouth as he stood, beelining for the nearest door inside.
"Thanks for reminding, dad!"
Alone, with you, like this, Joel notices the way you rubbed your thighs together, the way you sighed after each sip. The hidden frustration as you floated about on his pool, displayed like a delectable centerpiece. It was clear as day: you didn’t get to cum and it’s bothering you. It took a few more minutes before he spoke.
"So why'd you fake it, sweet pea?"
The question comes to you out of nowhere. Your head shoots up and you look at him with those wide, bewildered doe eyes as you immediately stammer to try and find the right words. You try and play it off with a chuckle, but you feel your cheeks warm up. "What- wha…"
He chuckles himself, sipping from his bottle before leaning back with crossed arms. "It was three minutes of him wriggling, darlin'. No one was going to cum from that." He watches you sit up completely, every fiber at rest jumping into action.
"You saw that?" Your sweet voice, Joel noted, trembling from what he only assumes as embarrassment riddled with shame. "I… I-" You clear your throat momentarily, biting your lip gently before sighing, turning over. “You kind of answered your own question, Joel.” There is a beat of silence, palpable and tense as you feel his gaze wash over your vulnerable body.
The two of you hear Christopher, blundering his way back to the pool now that the phone call was out of his way. Joel sighs,getting up with a stretch as he passes by you again to disappear into the house.
“Our secret, doll. I’m nice that way.”
–
Over dinner, Joel speaks to you with a smile, perhaps he was feigning interest. Perhaps he truly was interested. Whatever it was, you feel the palpable weight in the air at the knowledge of what you shared with the older Miller. Christopher, clueless as he is, spends most of dinner with his hand on your thigh, chiming in every now and then between bites.
“So what was the exam you took before the two of you drove here?” Joel had been asking while you sipped through your drink, your brows raised as you smiled.
“It was some English Literature course," you said, meek as ever, managing a small smile up at him as he hums with interest.
"Ah. So that Shakesword guy or something? What did'ya like from him?"
"Shakespeare, actually… And I loved Macbeth."
"When we met, she was nose deep in Hamlet, if I remembered right." Christopher soothed his hand up and down your thigh, to which you nodded in agreement.
"Tell me about Macbeth."
You take a deep breath, feeling both eyes on you as you carefully swallowed down the lump in your throat. "It's the usual things. War, misery, curses, witches. But Lady Macbeth… that was where it was." He tilts his head to the side, nodding at you to continue. "She demanded divinity to transform her into a man. To take up the mantle from her weak husband. To take charge."
He chuckles softly, almost teasingly and knowingly, even. "Shit, doll, didn't think you had that many words in ya."
The rest of dinner goes by in relative ease, with Christopher letting you know he's meeting with some buddies tomorrow after he drops you off in the center of town. He promises, however, that he'll pick you up at three in the afternoon.
As you lay in bed that night, you glance haphazardly at your phone as it lights up in the late night silence. A message from Joel, a contact you saved under Mr. Miller back when you met over Thanksgiving. The message was simple enough.
Sweet dreams, Lady Macbeth.
—
Three in the afternoon on Saturday, you're seated where Christopher says he'll pick you up, bearing a bag for the sweater you bought him. You messaged him fifteen minutes earlier. On my way to the bench, bubba! Without a response, you think he's driving.
Above you, dark clouds seem to gather where once it was only bright summer sun. You quietly grip your bags tighter as you count in your head. He'll be here soon… I'll be out of the rain in no time.
You quietly count down the seconds. Six hundred. Five hundred ninety-nine. Five hundred ninety-eight…
Three P.M. turns to four, then four-thirty. You message Christopher two more times.
It might be raining soon, I have an umbrella!
Make sure you're not in the rain too much!
You stand under the umbrella, pacing every now and then, trying not to appear skittish, specially when the thunder and lightning began to roll across the sky, making the hair on your arms stand on edge. It was troubling, to be outside during a thunderstorm like this.
You count in increments of six hundreds. Ten minutes pass by again. Then twenty. Then thirty.
A particularly raucous lightning makes you jump out of your skin, and you swallow your pride, dialing the next person nearest you. The nearest person you'd think would answer.
And he does, in a record of two rings. He says your name and you audibly sigh in relief. "What's the matter, doll?"
"Joel, uhm… has Christopher answered your calls? We were supposed to meet at three-"
"Christ, doll, it's storming. He still hasn't gotten to you?"
You hesitate. You wonder if you were going to be too harsh on your beau if you admitted he wasn't. Just then, another strike of lightning has you confessing. "He… he wasn't answering my texts, I don't know where he is."
You hear him cuss at the other end, along with the sound of his keys and his heavy steps.
"Stay put for me, sweet pea. Where are you waiting?"
You tell him, and you don't even count to three hundred before he's pulling up in front of you, opening the passenger door and yelling at you to get in.
"Christ, doll, you're freezing! How long were you out there?" You feel his gaze on yours as you attempt to say your thanks, still visibly shaking from being out in the rain so long, combined with the fear of lightning. He immediately reaches back to retrieve the towels he had brought exactly for this scenario, covering you up in them as you finally manage. “Thanks, Joel. D-did… did Chris leave a word, or anything? I’ve been trying to reach him…”
You don’t miss the way he tries to hold back a smirk, buckling your seatbelt as he sighs. “He said he’s drinking with some buddies, doll. But I thought he already told you. He didn’t mention you’d be needin’ a ride or anythin’.” He pauses, as if for dramatic effect. “Actually, it sounded really loud when he called." You look right back at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you processed his words.
Oh. Oh.
“H-he probably just forgot. Or something,” you try to justify as Joel begins to steer the two of you through the storm and back to his house. “I just hope he doesn’t get sick from the weather or anything…”
“God, sweet pea, you’re just so goddamn sweet even if he’s an asshole, huh?”
It shuts you up for the rest of the ride. He escorts you inside, telling you he’ll hand you a set of clothes. That you should be rinsing off immediately. You do not see the way he stares at your soaked shirt, your skin so fucking close and yet so far. You obey, so quickly that it makes his cheeks hurt from smiling. It was so natural for you, and it makes him absolutely feral. Most of all, you’re so vulnerable right now. And it hatches a wretched plan in his head before he could stop it.
He takes a shirt and boxers from his own closet, under the guise of wanting to keep yours and Christopher's stuff private. And he opens the door, expecting to see you mostly naked. Oh, God, sweet pea, I'm so sorry! Feign innocence, caring and comforting.
What he didn't expect was you seated on the counter, a photo on the screen of your phone. One of his son, your beau, holding another woman that was so clearly not you, posted by some friend. He didn't expect to see you teary-eyed, cheeks bright red as you hiccup.
"I… I guess that's why… he wouldn't pick up…"
He sighs, tilts his head to the side. "Oh, sweetheart…" He rushes to you, embracing you gently, damp clothes and all, into his warm arms as he shushes you gently. You try to resist him when he begins to help you with your clothes. You try to resist him when he offers tenderness. But it's all so rare, so careful, with such gentleness that you find yourself agreeing with anything he asked. Let me draw you a bath, doll, meaning he'll watch you soak. Let me help you with that, meaning he wanted to be the one to strip you down.
"He never treated you like this, doll, did he?" The look on your face is enough to answer him. He clicks his tongue, leaning his ear close as he slips your unclasped bra down your shivering frame. "Oh, darlin'. Let me show you how a lady should be treated."
It's how you end up in the warm bath he had prepared, settled between his legs with his mouth on your neck, his hands running up and down your sides until you were shaking and giggling from the touch. "Pretty li'l thing like you shouldn't be neglected. He's a damn fool."
He begins to ask for things while he's already doing them. He drifts his hands to your breasts and whispers, "Okay if I touched ya like this?" He pinches your hardened nipples and says, "Feels good, doesn't it, darlin'?" You wriggle in his grasp, ticklish and alight, tethered in the receeding waves of emotion as he draws you into some semblance of relaxation, smoothing out each tense muscle as he speaks to you with such unabashed softness.
Your first moan escapes you before you could stop it. One hand flies to your mouth as you immediately attempt to pull away from Joel. And yet, he holds you, chuckling right against your ear that you feel the smirk on his face spreading against the curve of your ear.
"I bet he never made you feel that good, baby doll."
You try and argue, left stammering just as his left hand holds your left leg up against your torso, his right hand moving down to cup you by your cunt. You feel him hardening behind you, pressed against the small of your back, grinding against your skin there. He kisses the back of your ear, chuckling as you struggle to hold back the rest of your moans. "Come on, doll, make some noise for me… otherwise, we'll be here all night, because I'm not stoppin' 'til you use that fuckin' mouth of yours to prove I'm better than him.
He dreamt of this. Your willing frame whining and moaning from every touch he gives you. You could not even conceal the fact that you were on edge and you were wet. He spreads you with his fingers, pausing as he nibbles on your earlobe before finally, finally sinking his fingers right where you're pink and lovely and warm. The fact that you felt bursting from just two fingers had you shivering with excitement, a surprised squeal escaping your mouth.
"J-Joel… Joel…"
"You can take it, sweet pea, stay close to me…" His left arm relaxes its hold on your left leg, drifting closer to begin rubbing soft, languid circles right on your aching clit as you lean your head back and sigh dreamily, feeling that familiar ascent into almost-forgotten bliss. It was something you only felt when you fucked yourself. It was something that eluded you in your sex life. You feel Joel's eyes on your face; when your features contort with the pleasure, when your hands palm at his beard, pulling at him needily to plant a kiss to your wanton mouth.
It's almost too quickly that you're cresting, feeling your sides burn from want as you grind into his hands in an effort to cum faster. And just when it was three seconds away, he tears his hands off of you, revelling in the sounds of your protest, your whining as you looked up at him. Already, too, he's getting out of the tub, draining the water as he picks you up in his arms.
"I know, I know what you need…" Still, you whine, thighs rubbing together. "But if I'm making you cum, sweet pea, I'm doin' it right by making you cum all over my sheets. Got it?" You nod, wrapping your arms around him as he carries you, bath water dripping and all, taking you to his bedroom with his slept-in sheets and oscillating fan to the side. He lays you among the sheets, smirking as he trailed one hand down your front, against your skin with butterfly caresses. Like an observer in some strange gallery, the fount of art and beauty exhibited for his own decrepit sensual pleasure.
“Y’wanna tell me what’cha want, dollface?” You try. You try to look away from his fingertips running up and down your stomach, knowing the power beneath that skin. You feel the restraint on his face, along with that smirk you just can’t seem to wipe off of him. “Yeah… you’re just absolutely desperate for me, no?”
“Want you… please…”
“Where d’ya want me? Here?” He drifts his hand to your neck, giving the slightest squeeze. You whine, and he drifts his touch to your willing mouth. Two fingers, delving into the warm wetness of your tongue, the softness of the inside of your cheeks. “Certainly not here… you’re certainly not mouthy.” Then he drifts his touch to your stomach, drifting lower, lower, and lower… “That’s it. I’m getting warmer, yeah?” He chuckles, his free hand moving to turn your face towards him as he looks at those softened features, your willingness laid bare before him. “What do you want from me? My cock? My mouth?”
It’s so much attention, all-encompassing, and all at once. You wonder if his touch strikes like lightning. And if it didn’t, then why does he make you quake to your very bones? He continues his teasing, pushing and prodding at you so closely where you want him, but never close enough. The charade continues before you eventually find the courage, eventually pushed to the brink of such wanton need.
“Both.” You grit your teeth, feeling the warmth coating your cheeks as you whine. “Both, Joel, please.”
He chuckles darkly, rewarding you with a bruising kiss, beard digging into your cheek, your chin, your body spread eagle and willing. “That’s a good, fuckin’ girl…” He rewards you by settling between your legs, spreading you wide open, and fucking his tongue on your weeping cunt. His growls emanate against your willing flesh, making you tremble, the vibrations otherworldly as he pushes you right through your first orgasm that weekend. One, you hoped, that wouldn’t be the last. “You’re so fuckin’ easy and he can’t even make you cum? Fuck, doll…” You squeal, fingers tangling into his hair as your hips grind, chasing waves of that sweet release until your eyes roll back, your body surrenders, and you are left limp with from his minstrations.
“We’re not yet done, doll. Think y’can handle more of me?”
It’s when you see that dark look on his face, A shadow hard to miss once you saw it. He kisses his way up to your face, wrapping your legs around his waist. He does not waste time, immediately pinning you down so he can fuck his hard cock into you, letting your moans and whines echo into the empty house. The stretch is glorious, his cock hitting places you did not know could be reached before. And all the while, he’s watching your face and your body contorting to the sensations you could not explain. Body electric magnified, body electric divine. He thrusts once, twice– and already, you were reeling in another orgasm.
He calls you beautiful, and he makes you understand that you are– that the iniquity of others was not your doing. That you deserved to feel good and light and wonderful. All while he sinks his teeth against your shoulder, your arm, sucking hickeys throughout the expanse of your skins, marks you would not be able to explain. It would have continued that way, and it should have, had Joel not heard the crunching of gravel on his driveway.
He pauses, shushes you gently, cupping your face as you whined desperately, clawing against his bare chest as he clears your hair from your face. “You’re gonna have to keep quiet f’me, doll. Think ya can do that?” You nod desperately, taking one hand to press against your mouth, anything to make him move again and give you one more release. One you were so desperately close to. “You don’t want him to hear us, did’ya?”
It’s when you realize, when you recognize the familiar heavy footsteps of the man who abandoned you, the lover who should be doing this. You looked up at Joel with a panicked gaze, his palm pressing harder against your mouth when you began to make some noise.
“I don’t have the patience to tell ya again. Don’t make this harder for yourself, baby doll.”
It’s when he fucks you with abandon, barely concealing his own moans as you tremble in his hold, locking your legs around his waist as he thrusts. Despite only one or two light groans escaping him, you see how tense his jaw had become, clenching, grinding beneath the skin. You know he’s close, and yet he waits for you, reaching down to rub your aching little clit. He rubs you repeatedly until the riptide of pleasure swallows you whole. Your eyes gloss over, a singular, weak whimper escaping through your self-censorship, your warm breath absorbed by Joel’s palm.
Just a few moments more, and his cock buries deep into you, silencing himself by sinking his teeth into the curve of your shoulder. It is a way to silence himself, to relax, to completely surrender his orgasm to you. His warm spend fills your aching walls, his body falling against yours as he sighs.
Just then, you hear, right across the hall. You hear Christopher. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He steps out into the hallway. It’s followed with him raising his voice. (Hey dad! Have you heard from her?) Joel manages a soft chuckle into your ear. “Fucking asshole, no?” he whispers against you as he takes a deep breath.
“Thought’cha were meetin’ her at three?” he manages, and you’re shocked at how composed he was still was, and yet how possessive his hold on you had become.
If he gets to have you for five more minutes, he’ll take it. The truth was, it felt like you belonged right there in his bed, sheltering his cum within your warm walls as you demand affection, soft in aftercare. Call it fate, even if it’s such a loose term. Were you really fated for him when he took you for himself?
When Christopher leaves, he chuckles, collapsing against you again as his breath escapes him in ragged increments. You fall asleep almost immediately, as if you found home in his week-old sheets.
Call it fate, call it karma. He’d still fuck you again if he had the choice.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#boyfriend's dad!joel miller x reader#boyfriend's dad!joel#bd!joel#joel miller fic
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Twisted Zoo Chapter 4
This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .
Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)
Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.
Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.
Previous Part: Chapter Three
Next Part: Chapter Five
WARNINGS: none for now
Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.
Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.
Note 2: I was in a “blushy” mood when I wrote this
—----------------------------------
The parrot had returned to his perch and was watching you curiously as you pulled out your notebook. You decided that you might as well go over and study him first, since he seemed eager enough to talk earlier.
“Hey, I never got your name,” you said, waving at the colorful-winged boy.
He gave you a big smirk, “Ace is the name, don’t forget it.”
You couldn’t help but think he was even a little more cocky than the peacocks. The way he smirked at you made you feel like he was grating on your nerves a little.
“Well, my name is (Y/n), it’s nice to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly.
“I’m not going to remember that,” Ace said matter-of-factly, “Too many keepers, you know?”
You tried to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but it must have shown a little, because Ace’s grin was widening. For whatever reason, he was toying with you.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking some notes,” you said, holding your notebook up for him to see.
“I do mind,” Ace shot back without hesitation.
“What do you want to do then?” You asked, biting back a sigh, “Did you want to talk?”
For the first time, the mask slipped. The smug grin disappeared, revealing something more vulnerable, “Everyone that comes through just makes me repeat things like I’m some sort of circus freak.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, heart clenching at his confession. You could picture little kids trying to get him to repeat after them like a… well, a parrot, “I won’t do that to you. We can just have normal conversations.”
Ace’s eyes averted from your figure and a slightly blush rose on his cheeks, “Yeah, I mean, I’d like that.” He raised his arm to shield his blush from you, “Ah- I, um, we can talk next time.”
“Are you sure? I’d love to talk with you.”
“Yeah…” the redness spread to Ace’s ears. You hadn’t meant to make him blush, but you couldn’t help but think it was cute. You were disappointed when he spread his wings and flew off to the birdhouse, disappearing inside.
You pulled out your notebook and began to write:
DAY 1
PARROT
The parrot halfling’s name is Ace. His wings and hair are more orange than red like in normal parrots. Other than the wings on his back and the way his feet curl into talons, he looks human.
He’s able to hold conversations easily and probably knows more languages than the average human. He seems to like retreating to his birdhouse to eat and have privacy.
Next, you decided, you’d go to the raven, since his cage was right next to Ace’s.
The cage appeared empty and you quickly realized he must be inside his birdhouse. Because of the color of his hair and wings, it was impossible to pick him out among the shadows in the entrance.
“Deuce!” You called out, “How are you doing?”
Immediately, there was movement inside the birdhouse and Deuce’s head poked out, staring out at you, eyes glittering with excitement despite his calm expression. Dark blue wings spread and, before you knew it, his talons were digging into the perch at the edge of his cage.
“Remember?” Deuce asked.
“Huh?” Your mind went blank, unsure of what he was trying to ask you.
“Remember?” Deuce asked again, this time pointing at his chest.
“Oh! Yes, I remember you.”
A soft smile spread across Deuce’s lips and you returned it with an even brighter grin.
“You? You name?” Deuce pointed at you and you startled. You had forgotten to tell him your name!
“I’m (Y/n)! It’s nice to officially meet you, Deuce,” you held out a hand for him to shake, but he merely stared at it in confusion.
“Deuce, you idiot, you're supposed to shake her hand,” someone’s voice snorted. To your surprise Ace had emerged from his birdhouse to poke fun at the bird in the cage next to his own.
Deuce reached out and grabbed your hand and shook it. His hands were so smooth you were amazed he wasn’t using moisturizer. You released his hand but he kept holding on to yours.
“Um, Deuce, you have to let go,” you laughed awkwardly.
Deuce’s face hardened and he tightened his hand around your own. You tried to pull away but he still didn’t let go.
“Let go Deuce!” You said sharply.
Deuce looked startled and dropped your hand. His face fell and he hunched his shoulders, looking ashamed.
“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure him, but it was too late, he was already flying back to his birdhouse.
Ace made a disgusted noise and disappeared into his own birdhouse once more.
Sighing shakily, you pulled out your notebook again.
DAY 1
RAVEN
The raven halfling’s name is Deuce. He doesn’t seem to know much English. Earlier, he had trouble opening the salad container.
He seemed to like holding my hand, as he didn’t want to let go.
“Let’s go talk to the flamingos,” you said to yourself, walking over to their cage.
The flamingos were on the opposite side of the cage, but you were hesitant to step inside. The enclosure was designed to look like the wetlands, and you were afraid your shoes may get absolutely ruined.
Oh well, you figured, I can just get new shoes if that happens.
Cater and Riddle looked up as you entered the cage, the gate closing noisily behind you. They watched you curiously as you cheerfully made your way towards them. Suddenly, the ground gave way and your left leg sank up to the knee in water. You lost your balance and started to fall towards the large pond taking up half their exhibit. You let out a strangled cry as the water grew closer.
Then, everything stopped. You were suddenly aware of hands holding your waist and forearm, keeping you from plunging straight into the water.
“Nice catch, Riddle!” Cater gasped, his hands joining the smaller man’s to help pull you onto dry land.
Shakily, you said, “Thank you guys so much!”
Riddle turned his head away, but nodded bashfully, a light pink dusting his cheeks. Cater grinned at him knowingly.
“I just wanted to say ‘hi’ to you two and introduce myself,” you explained, “I’m (Y/n), and I’ll be visiting you every few days.”
“Not every day?” Cater pouted. Maybe it was your imagination, but Riddle looked a little disappointed too.
“No, sorry,” you apologized.
“Tired,” Riddle said sharply.
“It is getting late,” Cater nodded.
Curiously, you asked, “How do you know English so well, Cater?”
Cater beamed, “I was a pet.”
A pet? Keeping a wild halfling as a pet somehow felt worse than keeping them in a zoo, but you couldn’t explain why. At least Cater didn’t seem to be bothered by his past.
You looked up at the sky and cursed- it really was getting dark. If you wanted to see the peacocks before darkness fell, you’d have to hurry.
“I’m sorry, I should go say ‘hi’ to the peacocks,” you told the pair.
Riddle nodded and began to walk away. Cater pouted but nodded as well. You quickly jotted down a few notes in your notebook.
DAY 1
FLAMINGOS
The two flamingos are named Riddle and Cater. They’re different from the other birds in that they have webbed feet instead of talons.
Cater is a former pet, so he knows English pretty well.
You felt like your notes were getting shorter and shorter, but you were feeling tired today. In the end, the notes were for your eyes only unless you made a discovery. So far the only thing out of the ordinary was Deuce’s hand holding, but even that wasn’t anything surprisingly. Halflings wouldn’t know what makes humans uncomfortable, after all.
You found yourself slipping into the peacock enclosure without even thinking about it. All three of them looked at you, so you smiled and waved at them. Rook waved back enthusiastically, but Epel continued to stare and Vil looked away haughtily.
Once you were close to them, you found yourself admiring Vil. Despite his attitude, he really was gorgeous, “You’re so beautiful, Vil.”
Vil’s eyes went wide and he looked at you in surprise for a moment before a gentle smile spread across his lips, “Thank you.”
Epel and Rook looked just as stunned as you felt. Maybe he wasn’t as prickly as you had originally thought.
“You’re Epel, right?” You asked the adorable lilac-haired peacock.
Epel nodded and, before you could say anything else, he sternly said, “Not cute!”
“What?” You couldn’t figure out what he meant. Was he saying Vil wasn’t cute? You weren’t cute?
“Mademoiselle,” Rook smiled and brushed his fingers along your arm, “He not like cute.”
“He doesn’t like being called cute?” You asked.
Rook and Epel both nodded.
“Alright, then I won’t call you cute,” you reassured him, “Is handsome okay?”
Epel nodded, tucking his chin against his chest in embarrassment.
You giggled and introduced yourself, “Well, I’m (Y/n)! I’ll be visiting you every few days.”
“Nice to meet you, Mademoiselle,” Rook said.
Epel stumbled over his words, “Nice to… meet you.”
Vil didn’t say anything but he gave you a nod of acknowledgment. You pulled out your notebook.
DAY 1
PEACOCKS
Peacock halflings have a fan of feathers protruding from their backs, setting them apart from all other bird halflings. The peacocks at the zoo are named Vil, Rook, and Epel.
Rook is friendly, but the other two, especially Vil, aren’t as interested in me.
Note: Don’t call Epel “cute”.
The peacocks looked tired, Epel having already sat down and pulled his wings around him. It was best if you went to the bird you had saved for last- the owl.
You waved goodbye, only receiving a responding wave from Rook. A few moments later, you were closing the gate behind you and heading over to the owl’s cage.
The green-haired owl was awake and chowing down on his salad. He looked at you curiously, a gentle smile gracing his lips as you approached him.
“I’m (Y/n), I never had the chance to ask you your name.”
“I’m Trey,” the owl responded, his voice smooth. You were surprised to realize that he wore glasses, and wondered how on earth they did eye tests on halflings.
“How did they know you needed glasses?” You asked. After all, it’s not like they could have him read something out, since halflings couldn’t read.
Trey smiled, “I hit things. With my wings. I fly. Fly into things.”
“That makes sense,” you mused, “So it’s better now?”
“Yes, better now,” Trey nodded.
You couldn’t explain what it was, but for some reason, the way Trey looked down at you made your stomach twist unpleasantly. It was like he was the one researching you. His eyes were sharp, greedily taking in every movement, while the simple smile remained glued to his face.
He put you on edge.
“Well…” your smile wavered, “I’m going to take some notes.”
“No more talking?” Trey asked. You couldn’t tell if it was your imagination or not, but the smile seemed… off. As though he were mocking you.
You had a feeling this halfling was much more intelligent than he let on.
“Sorry,” you forced a bright smile, “I’m going home soon, so I need to do this.” You pulled out your notebook and began to write quickly.
DAY 1
OWL
The owl halfling’s name is Trey. He has a barn owl’s wings, but he has green hair. He wears glasses.
Note: Keep your eye on him.
You were so tired, you were probably imagining things. Either way, you were ready to get home as soon as possible.
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Hello! I absolutely love your work it's always such a joy to read them! So, when I saw your asks were open, I had to ask fast! Can I request for a fluffy work where Jade, Rook, and Vil are painting their S/O? You can add on more if you need to.
I hope you have a nice day! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
˗ˏˋ ��� ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: They paint/sketch you.
♡︎I almost exploded on Vil’s part.
♡︎Includes: Jade, Rook and Vil
♡︎Warning: Jade smirking
⋆⋅☆Jade
I can't picture him painting you, but I see him having some sketches of you in a notebook, probably filled with information about mushrooms.
After classes ended, you had a habit of lingering at Monstro Lounge. You'd order a drink, often covered by Jade's generosity. There, you would study, awaiting Jade's arrival whenever he was free. On one particular day, he observed you from a distance, engrossed in reading potionology books for an upcoming test. Although you were engaged in a mundane activity, he felt an unusual urge to capture you in his notebook, akin to documenting a rare mushroom.
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
"Jade, is that me?" you questioned as you spotted a peculiar doodle of yourself in his mushroom-filled notebook. The two of you had gone on a hike, and to assist him in identifying mushrooms, he handed you his notebook. To your surprise, amidst the detailed fungi descriptions, you discovered a drawing of your face stuffed inside a book. Much to your dismay, Jade responded with a smirk rather than a straightforward answer.
⋆⋅☆Rook
Now Rook would be the type to paint you and have those paintings of you on the walls of his room, no shame at all. If someone entered his room, he would spend hours talking about the artworks, explaining how divine you looked to the point that he had to capture it for eternity.
He would find you in the botanical garden, staring at some flowers, and out of nowhere, you'd see him with a canvas and an easel running towards you. You have no idea how he managed to get those so fast, as you were just talking seconds ago.
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
“Is this really necessary?” You were already embarrassed by the fact that he wanted to paint you, but the constant remarks about your beauty made you almost pass out.
“Oh, mon Trickster, I only wish to capture forever what I deem worthy of being seen by millions, as your beauty is undoubtedly impossible to-” And he kept on talking about how much he loved you, how amazing you were, how breathtaking you looked, and how his actions were undoubtedly more than worth it. With each word, you felt your legs growing weaker.
⋆⋅☆Vil
This might start with Rook wanting to paint the two of you together as a cute couple since he was your ultimate shipper. However, Vil never seemed pleased with the paintings, stating that something was missing. You thought he was talking about him not looking as good as he wanted, but after some days, he asks you to come over, and to your surprise, he tells you that he wants to paint you.
──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────
“Potato, stay still!” By the Seven, you only wanted to scratch your nose. It had been almost an hour, and you were starting to feel really hungry. You'd have to curse Grim for wasting money on his cans of tuna, leaving you with only sandwiches until the smell made you feel sick. You stared around his room, waiting for the work to be done. After all, it surely couldn’t take that much more. “Come see it.” You saw him lower the brush as he looked at you with a smile, and as you approached, you had to grab your jaw or it would drop to the floor. The way he had drawn you had nothing on Rook’s style. You looked so beautiful, it almost didn’t feel like that was you. So, that was how Vil saw you? And he was just mad that Rook couldn’t see the same thing he did.
“Oh, Vil!” You sounded so lovesick as you gave him a hug and a kiss.
#twst#disney twst#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst reader#twst x reader#x reader#disney twisted wonderland#jade leech x reader#twst jade#jade leech#rook hunt#twst rook#rook hunt x reader#vil schoenheit#vil shoenheit x reader#twst vil
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lord powerfultenderness, I don't know how to fully picture it but can we have neighbor könig doing grocery shopping with y/n? Please!~
I swear I saw a post somewhere that said König probably makes bank. And Sugar Daddy König hc born/accepted. This man will spoil you if you give him the chance (and then idk wreck you later?)
Either you were oblivious to the looks strangers gave you, to the way women quickly turned around and went down different aisles, or you didn’t care. It was, in fact, the latter. This big menacing looking guy beside you practically cleared a path wherever you wanted. Busy aisles you’d normally have to do trick maneuvers with your cart? Cleared out when he looked at other shoppers. It was amazing, really.
You stopped and looked up at the shelf, the item you wanted on the very top and if you stretched out…you still couldn’t reach it. Even before you could pout and try again, König reached over and plucked the box of snacks off the shelf and dropped in the basket.
Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled a bit, but you could tell he was smiling at you. “Those are car snacks.”
“Car snacks?”
You nodded and continued to push the cart down the aisle. You’d deviated from your shopping list so much that you were now just going up and down aisles to see if there was anything you needed.
“You know, snacks you keep in the car for emergencies. Like, getting stuck in traffic, or on the side of the road while waiting for a tow truck…or lost…”
“How often do you get lost?” He laughed, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his laugh at a reasonable indoor level.
“It was just the one time! My GPS wasn’t working!” It wasn’t your fault downtown was an impossible maze!
“What did you do?”
“I had a snack and figured it out.” You gave up and went home, but he didn’t need to know that.
Though he could probably guess with the way he was side eyeing you. You knocked your hip into his side (and he didn’t budge at all!) “What do you say to pasta for dinner?”
He titled his head, “you’re making dinner for me?”
“Yea, I want to do something nice for you for helping me out.”
König beamed at you, though you couldn’t see behind his mask and you were currently looking at one of the shelves. “I will eat whatever you cook.”
You laughed, it sounded so weird when he said it like that. “Alright, pasta it is.”
On the way to the checkout, you happened upon a display of clothing, mostly blouses and tee shirts, but some printed leggings as well. “Ooh, that’s cute.” You stopped and picked up a strappy sundress printed with your favorite flowers. “And my size!” You cheered to yourself as you looked at the tag. You flipped it over to check the price tag then set the dress back on the rack. “Pssh, not that cute.”
You looked at him just as he turned away from the dress you liked. “Hey, can you wait in line while I run and get my prescription?”
He nodded and took over pushing the cart as you handed him your debit card, “just in case it takes too long.”
It was a good thing you handed him your card too! There was a bit of wait while your prescription was transferred to the new in store pharmacy. You half debated whether or not you should just leave to pick it up another day, but you already missed a day and didn’t want to throw off the effects.
By the time you had your medication, König was waiting for you out front. “Sorry about that!”
He shook his head, “no problem.” And handed you the receipt and your card back.
You giggled as he loaded the bags in almost one scoop into the back of his truck. Your car was currently in the shop and he very quickly offered to help you out in the meantime.
“Thank you so much!” You smiled at him once all of the groceries were sitting on your counter.
“Anytime.” He answered simply.
“Still up for dinner tonight?”
He nodded, “of course.”
The little short answers, no hearty laugh included, were weird. But maybe he just had enough company for a few hours. “Alright, I’ll pop over later then?”
“Goodbye.” He nodded again and quickly left you alone.
Weird…
Whatever. Maybe he’ll feel better once he…oh!
You pulled out one of the very dresses you thought was cute, but too expensive, from one of the bags. König’s doing? You checked the receipt and it wasn’t listed. He…bought it himself? And hid it from you? Suddenly the way he was acting nervous before he left made sense.
-
König’s stomach flipped and his face burned when he opened the door later that night. You were standing in front of him wearing the dress he bought. “You look like an angel.”
You smiled and spun around, the dress flaring cutely as you did so. “I can’t believe you bought this! Thank you so much! But, let me repay you?”
“No. Have dinner with me?”
You giggled, you were already having dinner with him! “You sneaky man! Come on, let’s go!” You then grabbed one of his hands and started to pull him out and towards your flat.
“Wait. Let me lock up.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and locked the door with one hand, refusing to pull out of your touch.
“Oh. right!”
“You didn’t lock up, did you?”
“What! It’s just right there!”
König was laughing again as he followed you to your home, a dopey smile you couldn’t see lighting his eyes
[More neighbor König]
#anonymous#könig x reader#konig x reader#neighbor!könig#könig x fem reader#blurb#her prescription was birth control loloolll you cant be running out of that with him around#and idk the stores around here have clothing/electronic/toy sections so i hope this doesn't sound too weird
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