#watch me come back to this and change it like fifty times
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Lately, it's felt like every time I've started to work on writing, I'll just be getting into the rhythm of it when I get interrupted, either by work or the cats or because the time I'd booked in the library study room is up (you can only do two hours at a time, and only four hours a week total). It was getting to the point where I kept re-reading the same chapter or so of previous work but never managing to add to it.
So I tried an experiment this past weekend -- I found a really cheap rate on a local hotel room, and on Friday I took an overnight bag and a very old laptop with limited processing power and checked into a room about a mile from home for a quasi "staycation". I unpacked and had a quiet night on Friday, as prelude to working Saturday-Sunday. The idea was to write uninterrupted by other people, pets, the presence of all my Stuff around me at home, et cetera.
I had snacks but I also bought meals out, which was nice; I don't often order in or buy out when I'm at home. The way I set up was that I would do fifty minutes of writing with do-not-disturb engaged on my phone and then ten minutes of checking email, texts, etc. since often what pulls me out of writing is a text or an email that needs answering, or the anxiety that I'm missing one that would. If I set it so that every hour I check, well, nobody's going to die if something doesn't get answered in an hour, so the anxiety isn't there, and neither is the distraction. (I found a nice app for this, review later depending on how functional it continues to be for me, but it's a like $4 app called Forest.)
It worked pretty well -- writing for an uninterrupted hour, as long as I know what I'm working on, is very functional for me. I average about two thousand words, that way, though there is a limit to the number of hours I can put in. I ended up doing two hours in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, then switched from fiction writing to clearing out my tumblr drafts and some correspondence for the fourth hour. So it went something like
Go out and get breakfast, bring back and eat in room
Change into lounging clothes and do two one-hour sessions
Go out and get lunch, eat lunch out
Bit of a rest break back in the room
Two one-hour sessions, one of writing; when tired, switch to something that requires less creativity
Go out and get dinner, bring back and eat in room
And then in the evening the plan was to watch movies or catch up on reading, but I ended up being mentally weary, so instead I did some simple tarot reading. It was less divination or even meditation than just messing around, keeping the creativity stimulated; I did a couple of Creative Writing spreads, some very brief divination spreads (I nicked a nice three-card spread here that I mentally call He To Hecuba, and just used it in general rather than for a specific question) and then invented a spread when I was starting to get irritated that the same like, five cards kept coming up, more on this in its own post.
Sunday I did one more writing session but it was less successful, I think partly because what I was writing required a lot of research and partly because the previous day I'd dumped eight thousand words into the file. (Research took longer because I brought the most garbage laptop known to man, and the browsers crash if you try to open Google Maps, but in other ways it was ideal since there wasn't much I could do on it other than write.) But I had a good breakfast, got some rest, packed up easily enough, and headed home just ahead of the rain storm.
I don't think it's something I'll be able to do in that format especially often, since the deal I got on the hotel was an anomaly and Chicago lodging, even just AirBNB stuff, is stupid expensive. But in addition to helping get some work done it was a nice break, so I'm going to look into ways I could swing it on a perhaps monthly basis, or some other way to cheaply spend an entire day alone with decent access to a bathroom/snacks and a way to come and go easily. I've looked into coworking spaces before but they tend to be prohibitively expensive and don't really have the setup I'd prefer; there's a hostel on the north side with private rooms that I might try out but it doesn't seem significantly cheaper than a hotel. I might just have to pick one weekend a month and watch last-minute hotel price cuts where they simply want to fill a room for a day or two.
Anyway, functionally I wrote almost a fifth of a novel this weekend, and one that I wasn't feeling super on fire about; I'm feeling much better about it now that I've got some established plot going and I feel like I "know" the newer characters a bit better. (Also I'm enjoying writing Simon as someone who is absolutely entranced by his love interest and clueless that what he's feeling isn't mild antipathy because they met while fighting over ricotta.) So it was a big help, although if I were to put a budget line item in the Extribulum Press ledger for "writing staycation" it would wipe out my royalties surplus very quickly.
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I started watching 911 recently (and I’m not gonna lie, it’s mostly because of Buck’s coming out because I wasn’t gonna start watching yet a show with a very potential queerbait in the middle of an otherwise very diverse and interesting looking cast) and I’ve been loving it, and even though I’m only on season 3 now, I really want to contribute with an idea on how the show could start up Eddie’s own coming out journey (which is hopefully in the cards)
Now, I don’t know how much closer Michael Grant gets to everyone else on the show (since I’m on season 3, I haven’t really seen him interact much with anyone but Bobby and Hen from the 118, and idk if that changes or if his relationship with other characters deepens over the years), but I would really like him to be present at Chimney and Maddie’s wedding. And maybe Tommy and Buck are being cute on the dancefloor, and then the camera pans to Eddie, who is seated to the side with Marisol, looking at the pair a little wistfully (just enough for us to know that maybe sitting there with Marisol isn’t exactly what he wants to do). And then, the camera would go to Michael, noticing Eddie’s look, and Marisol’s sort of dejected and bored expression. And he sees a couple that not only appears unhappy with each other, but also sees a whole lot of himself in Eddie.
So, as the wedding reception is coming to a close, Michael is at the bar as Eddie comes by, looking for one more round as the bartender announces the last call. And as he waits for the drink, Michael strikes up a conversation with a bit of small talk (again, idk if they’re close enough to have a deep conversation right off the bat), and then goes, “hey, did Bobby or Athena ever tell you why we got divorced?”
And Eddie stumbles over the answer a bit awkwardly, like yeah, it was because, well, um, you know, because you’re …
And Michael chuckles, putting him out of his misery with a “a flaming homosexual? Yeah. No sense in beating around the bush about it. At least not anymore. You know, I was so deep in denial I never even kissed a man until I was in my fifties?”
“Really? So you’ve … only been with women until you came out?” Eddie asks and Michael nods. “And you’re sure you’re not bisexual?”
To which Michael laughs and reassures him that no, not bisexual, just a very very repressed gay man. Then, he drives his not-so-subtle point home by saying:
“And even still, I don’t have many regrets about my life. I got two incredible kids out of it, and I can’t imagine my life without them. My only regret, though, is that I spent fifteen years with a woman I couldn’t love the way she loved me, and I wasn’t even man enough to give her a chance to look for someone better. Fifteen years. That’s a hell of a lot of time to take away from someone.”
And while he speaks, we see Eddie glance across the room, to Marisol fussing over Chris. And, inevitably, to Buck laughing along with something Chimney said on the other side of the room. And when he looks back at Michael, he sees a very knowing expression on his face.
“What are you trying to say?” Eddies asks, still guarded as hell, to which Michael chuckles.
“Nothing, man. I guess I just officially entered my lonely gay drunk at the bar days. But if I can pass a little wisdom. If can already you feel it in your gut that you’re not with the right person, maybe don’t be like me and spend the next fifteen years trying to figure out what you already know.”
And then he leaves, and BOOM, Eddie is forced to realize things he would much rather keep repressed.
#i know im new to the fandom but gosh#michael and eddie’s stories parallel each other in so many ways#ESPECIALLY IF eddie is going to come out as gay at some point#and i would just die to see michael having his paternal guiding hand in his coming out#it doesn’t even have to be the wedding it could just be a family fire house gathering#just let michael tell his story to eddie and maybe wake him up to non-comphet possibilities in life 😭😭#eddie diaz#911 abc#911 show#gay eddie diaz#buddie#911 buddie#eddie x buck#buck x eddie#eddie diaz x evan buckley#evan buckley x eddie diaz
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I honestly love the clothing styles of each of the turtles in this show and I love how these styles really incorporate their personalities as well.
Like, obviously Donnie has the best sense of style, yeah? Think that’s something pretty agreed upon here. Everything we see him put together is very meticulously crafted and clean. That goes with his personality because Donnie is a very meticulous person in general, and he knows what he likes very, very well, and knows how to flaunt it in turn. Him commenting on colors he enjoys or disapproving of outfits that the others see no problem with also shows how he just generally has an eye for this kind of thing. He doesn’t just know what looks good on himself, but also what looks good on others - and I think this ties into his love of gift giving too. Donnie also has a flair for making sure that his things have his “mark” on them, and his clothing is no exception. All that he wears and how he wears them screams “Donnie.”
Mikey is really fun because his styles are honestly a pendulum between super simplistic and incredibly out there. And often, you’re going to see a lot of color or patterns to both. And in my opinion I think that all reflects really well on Mikey’s character - he’s got a colorful personality but even more than that he’s incredible sure of who he himself is. Mikey’s style, I feel, is less what looks good as clothes and more what sparks joy in Mikey himself. His bright stickers he wears are a testament of that! He’s comfortable in his own skin and his style reflects this perfectly, whether he goes for a more out-there look or a more toned down one.
Now, for Leo. Okay, I think I’m actually in the minority here I feel because Leo’s style isn’t really that bad? Hear me out- if you actually look at what he wears, try taking out, like, one accessory. Suddenly, that outfit works! He even manages to put together many good outfits in the series, but his “bad” ones are the ones that tend to stand out, alas (just like how his mistakes tend to be big ones oop-) Basically, my personal look at him is not that he’s inept at styling at all, but that he has a “too much” gene. And like everyone else, this sense of style is completely like him, too. Going too far to impress when all he needed to do was slow it down some to think things through. (And funnily enough, a lot of his outfits take random aspects from his brothers too - “nothing without them” huh?)
For Raph, I feel bad for him since pretty much all of his clothes are inevitably going to be ripped, but he makes them work pretty much each time. Like Leo, Raph tends to go more sporty with his looks, but I also noticed that his stuff often goes in that in between of comfy, cool, and cute. His pajama suit in particular comes to mind in terms of “cute” as it’s more something you’d see younger children in rather than older kids, and I think it can be a subtle nod to the fact that for all Raph tries to seem older, he’s still just a kid too.
I could probably go on, but these are just all off the top of my head - I love how the boys’ personality’s come out in so many different ways.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt headcanons#rise donnie#rise leo#rise mikey#rise raph#I love fashion actually#if you’re wondering where this came from it came from me watching hours of outfit creation vids#but yeah! I honestly could probably go more into it#but I’m going off my memory for the most part rip#Leo in particular makes me sad because I disagree with like 99% of the fandom about his fashion sense LOL#I don’t think it’s bad but it’s def not close to Donnie level#Donnie is his own category#Leo though he’s not just jerseys and ripped sleeves#he wears full eye makeup as a granny and kills doing it#his pirate costume was very well put together imo#even his regular weird frog like disguise is perfectly fine when you get rid of the goggles#I ALSO don’t think Raph’s style is bad either#my boy has more difficulty with clothes since he’s limited to the stretchier stuff but like#he’s got good style!!#I’m def looking more into this all than necessary but#watch me come back to this and change it like fifty times#if you’re wondering what I mean about Leo’s outfits taking from his brothers#look at Raph’s standard disguise (the one they go out to play basketball with)#ripped sleeves and a backward cap#one of Leo’s main outfits in The Clothes Don’t Fit the Turtle?#ripped sleeves and backwards cap#incedentally these borrowed aspects actually hinder his overall look!#his outfit without them is more HIM y’know? which says a lot about allll their individual styles
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𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄- 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
—cw: fem!reader, male and female masturbating, fingering, fistfucking, pillowfucking (put me in a cage pls), desperate gojo because i'll never shut up about that. not proofread.
—a/n: i wish his seiyuu had an asmr channel just like nanami's so this drabble would've been longer. enjoy though <33
You're used to stalking the social media of people you go out with. It comes naturally. Well you live alone in this city, and you sure as hell don't want to stumble across a creep with no defense. You never know what's crippling it's way across this sinful city at night. The questionable news reports just added the oil to the fire of your anxiety. So it was natural that tonight, you were stalking another one of your dates. Gojo Satoru. You knew he was pretty popular when those hand had to leave yours to dap or fist bump his peers on your first date. It's almost as if fifty percent of the city knew him, like a celebrity. If he was really so popular, it would be easy to dig up info about him.
That's what led to you eagerly scrolling past his Instagram, flipping through each highlight as if you were a child who just found the greatest comic book.
party,
party,
and parties.
it was like his mantra the way his entire feed was just him dancing under the influence, in outfits too expensive and champagne to rich. He bathed in the luxury and the people around him were pleasuring off the drops sprinkling. So perfect that he had everyone wrapped around his finger. But won't he do the same to you? Overpower you. All those riches and he decided to go out with you, just so he could make you one of his whores, you were sure about that.
"Ugh, fuck it." You groaned, tossing your phone away. "Guess i'll have to use my hand again."
You opened your laptop, went incongnito typing the first letter, but your autocorrect knew better. It's like it has memorised what you do at this hour. But autocorrect works on algorithms so you were sure it's your fault that you visit the site so frequently.
The porn website was open and you clicked on search button, specifically typing "hot men jerking off webcam." It was one of your favorite things to watch.
You scrolled through the popular videos you had already watched maybe a million times. There was a reason they were popular. So you just changed the filter and selected "new to old". After rummaging through some of the boring videos, your eyes landed on the preview of one with the most beautiful cock. longest even. Curiously, you click on it. The video starts with the man rubbing his boner through the boxers. You put a hand inside your panties, and all you want right now is for him to take his boxers off. After a few minutes, he does and his long light peach cock springs out. when he leans back, your eyes do a double take.
is that gojo fucking satoru??
And indeed it was. The man who earlier gave you the rich spoiled misogynistic son vibes was now moaning like a slut, begging his viewers to ride their imaginary pussy. He had zero shame. Although...why didn't you log out?? Why did you not switch to some other video?
Because holy shit he is fistfucking his cock like an animal in heat. The chair is shaking and making squeaking noises but fuck who cares about that. Listen to his moans. His fucking whimpers. He changed his placement and now he was on the bed, had the pillow folded in half only to start ramming his dick into it. God! Is this the real Gojo Satoru? Is this what he is? A camboy whoring his body out. Because he has generational wealth so there's no way he is foung that for money. So the only logical answer is because he is such a fucking pussywhore that his exhibitionist cock only cums when there are others watching it.
Your fingers starts vigorously pumping in your cunt. They weren't long enough to reach and you were actually wishing Satoru was fucking you instead of that pillow because look. Look at that long dick. Look at the pretty flushed tip with his precum glistening. Fuck, how'd he taste on your? Sweet? Sour? But you know it would taste warm and filthy for sure.
The man in the screen increases his pace and so do you, imitating him. you want to cum at the same time. you want to see what his cum looks like on the gray pillowcase. your middle finger starts stimulating your clit even more while Satoru in the screen is now snapping his hips rougly against the bed, in the pillow. you imagine yourself in the position. Prone Bone. Never tried it but if it is what he is doing, then you're sure as hell down. It's the way his thrusts can be heard banging against the wood under the mattress even if there's not skin for his to slap against. compared to what other camboys do, talk about how they're going to ruin your dirty little pussy, gojo's is different. he does say he'll ruin your pussy but it's hotter because it is followed by endless pleas.
"fuck—lemme ruin this pussy—anh! please, yeah? gonna make you feel so good, baby please?" almost as if he is actually fucking someone. and you don't think twice before assuming he is talking to you. It's okay to be delusional sometimes. Specially when his words make you cum so hard, that you are whining at the lack of more girth to clench around. you look at the screen and Satoru came too. And he was whimpering. Like actually whimpering because it felt so good. Hot strings of cum now soaked in the pillow. Shit.
When you come back from the bathroom after washing yourself, you hear a notification. you pick up your phone to find a "Free tomorrow night?" from the same man who indirectly made you cum so hard tonight. And after what you saw today, you would be a fucking idiot to miss a chance like this.
"Yeah, Of course. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."
*Sent*
#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x you#gojo drabbles#jjk drabbles#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x female reader#gojo x fem!reader
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in which coriolanus snow might have beaten someone up for talking badly about you.
PAIRING: academy!snow x fem!reader
SUMMARY: coriolanus snow does reckless things when it comes to you.
WARNINGS: mentions of broken ribs and a crematorium (coryo is dramatic lol), up to interpretation whether he's morally gray
WORD COUNT: 0.8k
“Why’d you do it?”
Coriolanus’ head snaps up at the sound so familiar to him and yet resounding in a somewhat foreign tone through the room. He’s at the academy past hours, finishing up homework his aching fingers didn’t allow him to write this morning. You’re leaning against the doorway, a few stairsteps below him, arms crossed over your chest. Your face is almost entirely hidden from him; the only source of light, his oil lamp, does little to change it.
“What do you mean? Why are you standing in the shadows? Come sit.”
He hears a scoff, now sounding much more like what he’s accustomed to with you.
“Answer the question,” you say.
“I don’t know what you m—”
“Why did you hit him, Snow? I won’t ask again.”
Finally, the contours of your figure appear clearly in his line of sight. The vague light illuminates your face contorted in chagrin, brows furrowed like they so often are when the two of you are working on assignments. He leans back in his chair, blonde locks falling onto his forehead.
“You know why,” he counters, watching as you approach. Instead of sitting down next to him, you stand before his desk with expectant eyes. He mimics your stance, crossing his own arms over his chest half-seriously. “You know, so how come you’re here asking me stupid questions?”
Finally, you crack.
“Because you’re an idiot, that’s why.” Sighing angrily, you plop down next to him and land a slap to his shoulder. He hisses in pain and the corners of your mouth lift in satisfaction. “A self-aware one, at that—which is even worse.”
“That is entirely subjective.”
“Don’t even start.”
“Why? Were you worried?”
You let out a humorless laugh. “For Festus more than you. Have you seen him?”
“I wish. Bet he looks awful with half his ribs broken.” Your open palm hits his shoulder and he gasps anew. “When did you become so violent?”
You scoff and push him, but he barely moves. “I’m violent? You’re so infuriating. They wanted to throw you out. I had to beg his parents for mercy. Me, who, by the way, did nothing wrong. So if I want to hit you right now, I have every right.”
He sighs and tilts his head against the wall. “I’m sorry, alright?”
“You don’t mean it.”
He smiles. You raise your hand to hit him again, but decide against it, instead laying it on the side of his face. His shoulders tense momentarily before he remembers it’ll be weird if you notice and he forces himself to relax as your fingers run over his cheek and neck, before they slide down to hold his right hand. You bring his bruised knuckles to your eyes, inspecting them.
“How many times did you even hit him?”
“I don’t know, like, fifty before Sejanus hauled me off.”
“You’re insane,” you say.
He thinks you’re probably right. But Festus said what he said and paid the price. At a discount at that—because if it were up to Coriolanus the asshole wouldn’t be lying in the hospital but the crematorium. Silence settles and all he hears is your breathing. Your fingers stay caressing his hand and each time they run over the bruises on his knuckles, he twitches indiscernibly, fighting the urge to jolt away.
“Will you tell me what he said?” you ask, this time softer.
“I don’t remember in detail…” he starts, but you stare at him knowingly and he cannot bring himself to lie. “Something about how you’re going to share my mother’s fate.”
“Coryo,” you say.
The two of you remain silent. He thinks you might stand up and leave; he thinks you’re terrifying at this moment, with your hair framing your face and your eyes on fire and your lower lip trembling. He thinks he’s said too much of the truth. Suddenly, you make a sound close to choking and he stiffens all over.
“Coryo.” Your voice is feeble, shaky, as you wrap your arms around him and pull him in. In shock, he can do nothing more than let you hold him, taut as a string. “You should have told Dr. Gaul or…”
He has enough fervor in him still to chuckle, although it’s only half-hearted. “And what would she have done?”
“I don’t know,” you admit.
You sit, embracing in the dark, in silence. He’s tense until you start rubbing his back, then he considerably relaxes with a hot sigh against your neck. It raises hairs all over your body, the heat, and you breathe out slowly. You smell like victory, he thinks, like roses and winter and gold.
“He was wrong.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you pull away for a brief moment to look him in the eyes. Blue, piercing eyes which gaze at you in a manner so unidentifiable. “You hear me? He was wrong about me and you and everything. I promise. I’m glad you punched him.”
“I did it for you.”
“I know. I know.”
In the half-dark room, he wraps his arms around you tighter.
i havent posted for so long so have this. also always remember i liked him first bcs i was in love already when i read the book two years ago. everyone else back off!! please let me know if u liked this and maybe ill write smth longer for coryo later xx
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childhood sweethearts (12) II a.russo x reader
playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven
childhood sweethearts (12) II a.russo x reader
"took your time!" you stepped aside as the two taller boys pushed inside making you roll your eyes. "please, come in!" you gestured sarcastically, slamming the door shut behind you. "get off russo." you huffed, smacking away gio's hand as he ruffled the hair you'd just finished doing.
"that was not an hour. that was forty minutes you're lucky i'm ready!" you warned them both, kicking harry's feet off your coffee table with a glare. "forty minutes is an hour in guy time, you'll learn." your brother dismissed with a wave.
"nice place shortstack, teachers salaries must be better than i thought." gio whistled as he wandered around your living room. "not really." you chuckled honestly with a shrug. "she's just good at saving money, squirrels it all away like a little mouse." your brother teased pulling a face.
"i had to! you and lil were always stealing it from me." you shot him a filthy glare as he held his hands up. "you have no evidence of that." he grinned with a wink. "hang on. you're not wearing that are you?" gio narrowed his eyes and pointed at you accusingly.
"yeah. why? whats wrong with it?" you frowned, playing with the hem of your jumper. "it's sky blue!" gio groaned without explaining as your frown deepened. "oh he knows the color wheel! good job buddy." you mocked sarcastically with a clap.
"manchester city are sky blue you idiot. we support arsenal, go find something red!" harry chimed in pointing away as you scoffed. "sorry i didn't know there was a dress code for a football game." you rolled your eyes.
"no it's fine we'll just get you a jersey from the armory. go find a hoodie or something, but not blue!" gio dismissed, shooing you off toward your room. "all this over a stupid fucking football match." you mumbled to yourself as you left, both boys yelling at you for the comment.
"can we go now?" you sighed, gesturing to yourself as the boys nodded, dressed in distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie and a black puffer vest on over the top, harry hauling himself to his feet.
"yes we can now you no longer support the enemy. so are you still allergic to football or have you actually grown up?" gio threw his arm over your shoulder guiding you away as you grabbed your keys, leaving the lights on and locking up.
"oh she's still deathly allergic, pretty sure she thinks the ball is a square." harry grinned as you flipped him off and buckled up, gio immediately beginning a rambling recount of all of the rules and history as harry started the car and you sat in the back with a sigh.
you contemplated texting alessia to let her know you were coming but the first moment your fingers touched the device to pull it from your pocket it was snatched from your hand.
"you're a teacher shortstack you should know better than to have a phone out in class, football school is in session and there will be a test." gio grinned wolfishly dropping your phone into the front console and ignoring your protests to have it back.
the three of you split up as you arrived to the emirates and your eyes almost bugged out of your head at the amount of people wandering around. "they're all here for the match?" you asked in disbelief, harry disappearing to get some food as gio dragged you off to get a jersey, again ignoring your protests.
"yeah! you've clearly been living under a rock if you don't know how big womens football is." the boy chuckled with a shake of his head, the two of you waiting in line. "didn't you literally go to the world cup? and you still can't believe how many people are here?" he laughed as you looked around in awe.
"in my defense the last match of alessia's i attended that wasn’t a world cup semi had about fifty people watching!" you frowned, only making him laugh harder, patting you on the back and shaking his head. "well, times have changed kid." he grinned, again ruffling your hair as you shoved him away and you moved closer in line.
"so. you and my little sister, worked things out then?" gio asked, leaning in to practically whisper at you as you frowned, unsure what he was asking. "please. don't play dumb with me i know you far too well to be fooled by that!" the boy warned with an amused smile as your eyes widened.
"she told you that we..."
"yeah. i went to visit her at college a couple of months after she moved, she got quite drunk and babbled everything." gio smiled somewhat sympathetically.
"everything?"
"yeah, everything. i had your back though she should have told you her plans and i made sure to let her know how stupid she was to mess everything up." gio shrugged.
"christ did both of our families know?" you huffed with a scowl, forever under the impression your relationship with the striker had been a well kept secret, though as time passed it seemed more and more people had been clued in than you thought.
"not the parents. dunno how they didn't catch on given you and less were hardly subtle, luca and i had our suspicions long before less told me i can promise you that." gio chuckled with a wink making your face heat up as you arrived to the front of the line.
"we're just friends though." you quietly answered his previous question as he gave you a look and nodded, turning toward the cashier with a dazzling smile.
"could i please get a red gunners beanie and a russo home jersey in a size..." he glanced to you clearly waiting an answer as you shrugged cluelessly, never having bought a jersey before. "large." he answered for you and rolled his eyes at how you looked like a fish out of water.
"better too big than too small." he shrugged, pushing you away with a firm shake of his head as you tried to pay, tapping his phone and grabbing the bag with an appreciative smile. "gio!" you hissed with a scowl, punching his arm as he whined and rubbed it.
"a thank you would have sufficed!" he mocked, waving at harry who was wandering about with a confused look a hundred or so metres away.
"put it on we haven't got all day." gio waved impatiently as he handed you the bag and you sighed, stripping off your puffer vest and pulling the jersey on over your hoodie, shrugging the vest back on.
"perfect! now you at least look the part even if you're still as clueless about football as a newborn baby." the boy grinned, yanking the beanie down on top of your head and spinning you around. "i have not missed you." you grumbled as he smacked away your hand from pulling off the beanie.
"aw my little sister in law i love you too." he pinched your cheeks as the two of you caught up to harry, your face going almost as red as your beanie as you were squished between both boys. "did you not get me anything?" you poked your brother accusingly as he handed gio some food but not you.
"you didn't ask for any!" he defended as you all squished into an elevator. "you didn't ask me if i wanted any." you rolled your eyes at his thought process, tuned out by the rumble in the elevator.
"they sometimes have food in the box." gio shrugged as your head whipped toward him and the doors opened, the boy gesturing for you to step out. "the box?" you questioned with a suspicious frown.
"friends and family box." harry answered with a grin, the pair of you following after gio. "he comes with me and luca sometimes." gio answered with a chuckle before you could even ask.
"most of the time mum and dad or some of the extended family come too but they've got some swanky lunch they can't get out of." he shrugged, handing you and harry a lanyard as you only nodded, at a loss for words.
having gotten over your initial shock and now settled in your seats waiting for the match to begin you nodded as both harry and gio seated either side of you attempted to debrief you on everything they felt you needed to know for the game.
you of course were still clueless, focused more on trying to spot alessia as they lined up for the team photos, noting her right away as you hummed, gio and harry sharing a look over your head and rolling their eyes.
it wasn't until half time when you felt like you could finally exhale, a familiar but unwelcome sensation settling in your stomach, worry.
this match had been particularly aggressive, yellow cards hardly in short stock as you winced every time alessia's body went tumbling down onto the pitch, just like you used to all those years ago when you watched her you still worried.
you accepted the drink from gio as he returned with a grateful smile, the older boy just chuckling at the blatant worry in your eyes. "she's fine! she's a big girl she can take a tackle or too, and dish them out." he assured you as you nodded, falling into conversation with harry about lily's upcoming baby shower.
your panic came in a different form the second half, the score locked 1-1 with only injury time remaining you bounced your knee anxiously amusing both boys either side of you who hadn't hesitated to tease you all match about it.
you held your breath as again alessia went down, this time not getting back up as a few of her team mates waved for the medics and she slowly sat up, your grip on your cup tightening.
"hey, she's okay." your brother noticed your discomfort and squeezed your knee, draping his free arm over your shoulder.
"this is sort of insane." you breathed out, having been taken aback all match by the chants and passion of the spectators filling out the stadium, all 59,000+ of them which sent your brain spinning. "yeah next match we'll teach you some chants!" gio grinned, nudging you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"or at least alessia's. she'll be horribly offended if you don't know her chant at least!" harry chipped in, both boys clearly doing their best to distract you as alessia was looked over by the medics.
you exhaled as finally she got back to her feet rewarded with a thundering cheer from the supporters, a free kick given for the poor tackle as the stadium exploded in support.
"speaking of!" harry laughed as alessia's name echoed around the pitch. you shook your head with a smile of utter disbelief, you knew she was clearly famous you weren't that naive, but seeing how many people were yelling her name with a clap had your heart bursting with pride.
"so less doesn't have to take the kick right, and they can get their players in front of the ball?" you questioned for clarification as harry nodded, explaining roughly how it would work and what arsenal would try to do to force man city to concede.
you held your breath as two of the arsenal girls lined up for the kick, watching as alessia was shoved and pushed around, repeatedly yanking away hands and arms which jostled and poked at her.
you watched frozen to your seat as the kick was sent in, a mad panic exploding in the box as a flurry and fight of heads, limbs and feet flailed around to try and make contact.
then finally there was a swish as the ball hammered the back of the net, the whistle blew and the stadium exploded.
"oh my god!" your eyes almost bugged at of your head as alessia sprinted away from the goal with her hands in the air, tackled to the ground by her team as you jumped up to your feet alongside nearly every single person in the stadium, cheering loud and proud for the blonde.
"she's still got it." you grinned at gio who laughed and nodded, shoving your head playfully as alessia was announced as the goal scorer and the crowd went mental at a replay of her goal.
"now they just need to park the bus for six minutes." harry whistled, turning and explaining to you right away what he meant before you even had to ask, the three of you settling back into your seats.
you weren't sure quite how but you were near certain you didn't breath for those next six minutes, your eyes widening in shock as with three to go alessia was shown a yellow card and walked off with a roll of her eyes.
"told you she gives as good as she gets sometimes short stack!" gio beamed, full of pride only making you chuckle quietly. "you'd know, she used to beat you up!" you teased the boy who shushed you and pulled the beanie down over your eyes.
you finally let out a deep exhale as the full time whistle sounded, the crowd erupting into cheers of victory as you watched alessia do her laps of the pitch clapping the fans.
"she'll be a fair while, she'll sign some stuff and go shower then come up." gio explained as you all returned inside the box to escape the cold, the weather well and truly taking a turn for the worst as thunder started to rumble in the far off distance.
meanwhile alessia had finally returned to the locker room, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she laughed and sang along to the music leah had blasting all around.
"hey less did your brother get a girlfriend? ben said he was all over some girl he brought with him to the box." beth laughed as alessia pulled a face, grabbing her slides out from her cubby and tying her wet hair up into a bun.
"no? that would be news to me." the blonde frowned with a shrug, shoving her belongings into her bag, now one of the last ones left. though sure enough as she tiredly made her way into the box flanked by vic and kyra her frown returned seeing her brothers arm draped over a girl, both of them with their backs facing her.
but right before she could reach them the girl spoke and shrugged his arm off, making a beeline for the toilet as alessia charged toward her brother. "did you bring a girl to my game and not tell me you were seeing someone!" she accused with an annoyed frown poking at his chest.
"did i what?" he laughed in disbelief, an annoyingly smug grin curling on his lips as he realized where his sisters thoughts were. "yeah actually i brought a little date!" he grinned, knowing the moment you returned everything would fall into place for the striker.
"gio!" alessia huffed punching him in the arm, temporarily distracted as a few of the girls and their family members wandered over and pulled her into conversation. "those bathrooms are so nice!" you marveled, your brother pushing you away as you shoved your hands into his face demanding he smell how good the soap smelled.
gio smirked as at the sound of your voice alessia spun right around, ignoring the questions fired toward her by the small group of people she was with as she finally noticed you, smacking about your brother as he wrapped you into a choke hold.
"i never said who the little date was for." gio smirked as he appeared at alessia's side, the blondes cheeks flushing bright red as she hurried to smooth her jumper out, suddenly wishing she'd made an effort with her hair.
"go on lovergirl, she's even wearing your jersey. you're welcome!" gio whispered, pushing her in your direction as she stumbled slightly and shot him a filthy look over her shoulder.
catching gio's eye harry let go of you and pushed you away, shooting over to the other boys side before you could tell him off, turning around and practically running into a body.
"you're here!" was all alessia managed to get out with wide eyes as you nodded. "i didn't know you were coming." she added on with a nervous smile, shifting her bag on her shoulder.
"not of my own free will. thing one and thing two kidnapped me!" you pointed to your brothers over her shoulder, not missing the strange look which crossed the taller girls face.
"hey, less i'm only joking. you had a great game!" you were quick to make amends, hoping your comment hadn't rubbed her the wrong way. "that volley? class!" you complimented, the blondes lips curling into a surprised grin.
"well well well, look whose been studying her football jargon." alessia teased, nerves melting away as you bumped her with your shoulder and a playful roll of your eyes as the two of you chattered away, everyone else in the room ceasing to exist as you only had eyes for one another.
"i see old habits die hard. will you ever learn?" you sighed dramatically, reaching a hand up to tuck away a loose strand of wet hair out of her eyes. "when have i ever listened to you?" alessia smirked, you having forever warned her against not drying her hair or at least leaving it out.
the two of you so engrossed in conversation alessia failed to notice a few of her friends eyeing the two of you off, laura and leah looking especially pleased as they gave the two of you some space, just sending you a friendly wave from a distance which you returned.
alessia also failed to notice a few of them creeping closer, jolted out of the little bubble with you as an arm slung around her waist with a squeeze. "hello!" vic addressed you as kyra and teyah appeared on alessia's other side and she withheld a groan.
"and who is this?" the dutch girl smirked as alessia shot her daggers briefly. "this is my..." she struggled for a moment giving you a glance. "my y/n." she answered awkwardly, wishing the ground would swallow her up as she shot kyra and teyah a firm glare at their giggles.
"well hello lessi's y/n. pleasure to meet you! i am lessi's vic, this is lessi's kyra and lessi's teyah." vic beamed as you couldn't help but laugh, alessia shoving vics arm away and moving to stand protectively by your side as the three younger girls all began to speak at you.
"oi! lay off she's not a performing monkey." alessia warned, hand settling on the small of your back as you struggled to keep up with the three different accents, lines of conversations and questions. thankfully leah noticed and swooped in, quickly ushering away the three troublemakers as alessia mouthed a thank you.
"they seem fun." you grinned up at the blonde who groaned quietly. "that's one word for them." she sighed. "seem to remind me of a certain outgoing outspoken loud mouthed young striker." you paused to look away contemplatively as alessia cracked a smile, harry and gio joining the two of you, the tall girls hand remaining on the small of your back.
"hey how did you get here?" alessia asked as the boys ducked off to use the toilet, the box clearing out. "i told you, kidnapped!" you teased, alessia's stomach clenching strangely as you smiled up at her and her knees went a bit wobbly.
"would you like to come over for dinner? i'll cook." alessia asked before she could talk herself out of it, nervously playing with the strap of the bag still slung over her shoulder.
"are you asking me on a date?" you asked quietly, smile growing at the slight blush which coated alessia's cheeks. "yeah. is that okay? or we can do something else!" she breathed out, corners of her mouth curling upward as she rocked back and forth on her heels.
"dinner sounds lovely." you agreed, trying to ignore the butterflies swooping and diving around in your stomach as alessia seemed to relax a little. "i'm gonna get a ride back with less." you spoke up as the boys returned, the four of you falling into conversation for a bit before parting ways.
"uhh, stay here for a second. please!" alessia stopped you suddenly after taking you down the back of the stadium, disappearing around a corner as you crossed your arms and waited, eyes roaming the photos of past teams and their victories on the wall.
"okay!" you jumped as alessia suddenly returned, the blonde apologizing with an amused smile nodding for you to follow her again. she lead you out to the back lot, having moved her car away from prying eyes where a few fans were still hanging about.
she wasn't quite ready to have to explain that aspect of her job to you just yet.
"nice jersey, your favorite player?" alessia grinned as the two of you arrived to her place, parking out the front as you rolled your eyes. "don't flatter yourself your brother bought it and forced me into it, and this!" you gestured to the beanie on top of your head which alessia found absolutely adorable.
"ouch, my poor ego!" the blonde sighed dramatically clutching at her chest as you rolled your eyes. "it could use the humbling. we've got, lessi russo! we've got-" you clapped as alessia's cheeks went red and she shoved you mumbling for you to shut up.
"we might need to sprint for it, my umbrella's in the boot." she shifted tones, the rain now hammering down against her car as you hummed in agreement.
"on three?" you nodded as both your hands hovered by the door handles. "three!" alessia announced as you both flung your doors open and made a dash for it, your laughter lost into the mid afternoon air as alessia almost sent herself flying down her stairs.
the two of you collapsed into one another laughing once you were in the safety of her front porch. "whose got wet hair now!" alessia teased tugging your beanie down over your eyes and scrambling for her keys.
"might have to bin this jersey since its all wet, shame." you yanked off the beanie and tousled your hair with your hand, stepping out of your soaking wet shoes as alessia slipped out of her slides both pairs left by the door.
"i can get you another one, even sign it for you if you like." she winked making you roll your eyes as she wasted no time pulling off her sopping wet jumper and gesturing you do the same. "mmm would up the resell value for ebay. have you got a pen handy?" you teased.
"do you want a shower?" the blonde offered kindly, biting her lip to stifle her laughter at both of your soaking wet states. "just some dry clothes if you don't mind." you replied with a somewhat shy smile, alessia nodding and sprinting off before you could say another word.
she returned mere seconds later, a pair of joggers and a hoodie in hand, nodding for you to change and give her your wet clothes so she could put them in the dryer. as the bathroom door closed with a click alessia went into panic mode, racing around her house tidying as well as she could in the small window of time she had to do so.
you couldn't help but inhale once you were changed, now drowned in the familiar smell of your ex girlfriend, though for once it wasn't accompanied with a weird stab of guilt, you allowing yourself to just enjoy the sense of safety and comfort which settled on your shoulders.
what alessia hadn't anticipated was you exiting the bathroom right as she rushed past with a basket piled high of dirty washing she intended to hide, her body slamming into yours and sending the two of you to the ground and her laundry into the air.
"i'm so sorry!" her face paled as she winced and gently peeled off her training shirt from where it had landed on your head, the two of you buried in a mountain of her dirty clothes as alessia wished the ground could swallow her up.
"if this is a way of you telling me to do your washing for you, you could have just asked!" you laughed and rolled off of her, alessia relaxing a little at your reaction, quick to her feet and helping you up to yours.
"two minutes." the striker promised still red with embarrassment, hurrying to shove her clothes back into the basket, grabbing your wet ones from the bathroom floor and darting off into the laundry, yelling out for you to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.
alessia took a moment once her washing was safely in the machine and your clothes in the dryer to collect herself, gripping the bench and taking a few deep breaths, nodding firmly and exiting the room.
an affectionate smile curled onto her lips to see you sat up at the island bench of her kitchen, your legs just a little too short to touch the ground you'd tucked one beneath you and were absentmindedly swinging the other to and from.
alessia would be lying if she didn't something settled over her which could have maybe been described as a sense of possessiveness seeing you sat in her house in her clothes once again. though she quickly tried to shake that off, giving herself a firm reminder the two of you were taking things slow and you were far from being hers anymore.
the large black adidas hoodie she'd given you to change into was big on alessia so it hung down to your mid thigh, and the blonde grinned in amusement seeing you'd had to roll and cuff up the ends of the joggers given her legs were a fair bit longer than yours.
"so whats on the menu chef russo?" you smiled sending her stomach into knots again as she joined you in the kitchen. "what do you feel like?" alessia questioned, washing her hands and rolling up the sleeves of her jumper with a raised eyebrow.
"anything. just no pineapple!" you teased, alessia laughing dryly and flicking water at you from her wet hands before wiping them on a tea towel. "pasta?" you nodded happily.
"just no tomatoes." alessia now teased your own eating habits as you mocked her and pulled a face. "wait, from scratch?" your eyebrows shot up in surprise as alessia breezed around the kitchen pulling out ingredients.
"obviously. did you forget i am italian!" she grinned and you smiled softly seeing her tie an apron around her waist, resisting the temptation to tease her for it and instead settling for enjoying how cute it was that she had one handy.
"half italian." you reminded earning yourself a glare and a middle finger in your direction as a cutting board and knife appeared on the bench in front of you. "make yourself useful would you." alessia smirked, placing down some peppers, onions and carrots on the board and tugging playfully on your ear.
"you know typically when you ask someone on a date and offer to cook them dinner, you don't force them to be your sous chef!" you shook your head but rolled up the sleeves of alessia's hoodie.
"aw you think you're at a sous chef level, that's adorable babe." it was a simple slip up, so much to the point alessia didn't even clock what she'd said but you did, your face burning bright red as you focused your energy into prepping the vegetables as she busied herself making dough.
the two of you fell into conversation about your upcoming weeks, alessia filling you in on her training schedule and commitments as you explained your lesson planning, both of you hanging off the others words, fully engaged in making an effort to show your sincere interest in what the other had to say.
"only you would just casually have things laying about to make pasta from scratch on a sunday night!" you grinned, now stood by the stove keeping an eye on the sauce at alessia's request. "if its not better than anything you've made pre-made i'll retire tomorrow." alessia challenged confidently, moving to take her hoodie off leaving her in joggers and a singlet, not wanting to get flour all over herself.
you wrenched your eyes away from her bare arms as she expertly kneaded the dough, muscles flexing as you turned back to the sauce, stirring it occasionally as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you.
"come here." you glanced up to see alessia wipe away a few small beads of sweat on her forehead, nodding for you to join her. she leaned over and flipped the stove top to the lowest heat it could so the sauce wouldn't burn.
"a pasta making lesson with a real life italian? should be charging." you teased as alessia demonstrated how to fold and roll out the dough, shaping it into spirals melting you a little as she made a point to note she knew they'd been your favorite growing up.
"christ you make this look easy." you credited her as you struggled with the dough, tensing up a little as you felt her body settle in behind you, her front pressed to your back as her bare arms wound around you.
"like this, push with your palms." she murmured, maneuvering your hands with hers on top as she helped you to roll out the dough and shape it like she'd shown. you thought once you started to get the hang of it she might move away but she stayed pressed against you.
"is this okay?" she checked quietly as her hands settled on your waist and her chin rested on your shoulder and you nodded, a little lost for words as waves of emotions you refused to overthink crashed into you, alessia starting to very gently sway the two of you.
"perfect!" the blonde beamed proudly as you finished rolling out and shaping your half of the dough. "had a decent teacher i guess." you smiled, craning your head back to gently kiss her cheek as alessia's hairs stood on end and she pushed herself away from you, moving to quickly finish off her half of the dough as you returned to the sauce.
on her orders you had a pot of water waiting to boil, leaving the sauce to thicken on low as you moved to watch her finish off the pasta. "do you want a pro tip?" alessia smiled as you nodded, gesturing for her continue.
"always flour your board." you gasped as her finger reached out and rubbed flour all over your nose, the taller girl grinning clearly quite pleased with herself. not even waiting to speak your hand darted out into the leftover flour, your hand pressing against her cheek leaving a white hand mark on the side of her face.
that seemed to open the floodgates as you chased one another around the island flicking and smacking flour against one another until alessia called for a truce, wincing at the flour which now coated her once clean floors.
however as the two of you retreated back toward the stove in typical alessia fashion, she slipped.
"less!" you cried out as she grabbed out for you to steady herself, instead taking you down with her, your body landing on top of hers as you both groaned.
"i'm beginning to think you do this on purpose now!" you tutted, hint of a smile on your lips. hyper aware of her large hands resting on your back an odd sense of deja vu settled over the pair of you, neither of you paying attention to anything than one another when you suddenly found yourself admiring and studying over ever little feature of her face, alessia doing the exact same.
just like clockwork the longer you maintained eye contact the smaller and smaller the room seemed to become, alessia's eyes flickering down to your lips just for a fleeting second.
"would it be too fast if i kissed you again?" the girl whispered, eyes still locked with yours as you gave a small shake of your head. "please." was all you managed to breathe out.
your hand moved to brush a few strands of her golden blonde hair out of her face, leaning in ever so slowly.
just like last time your hands moved to tangle in her hair now brushed out and dry again, and in turn alessia's own hands came to rest on either side of your face, thumbs tracing soft circles on your jaw, ever so gently guiding your mouth within millimeters of her own.
you both sighed as your lips met, the kiss slow and calculated and tender. alessia kissed you like you were made of glass, terrified that one wrong move and you'd break, her lips soft and inviting as they moved against yours.
you parted your own slightly as her teeth ever so gently tugged at your bottom lip, her tongue slipping into your mouth as the kiss became just a little less sweet.
though you hissed and pulled away at the feeling of something burning your neck, the blonde underneath yours eyes widening as she tightened her hold on your face and sat up taking you with her.
"what's wrong? was that too much? too fast? i'm so sorry." she rambled out, chest heaving with worry as you were quick to shake your head. "i think something bit me!" you gently moved her hands off your face and turned your head, moving your hair out of the way as alessia frowned and glanced at your neck.
but everything suddenly made sense as she heard a strange noise and looked up to the stove, realizing exactly what had happened.
"shit the water's over boiled!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thirteen
our cute little lovers seemingly all happy but will it last?
what do we think is going to happen? what do you want to see happen?
#woso x reader#woso#alessia russo x reader#woso community#engwnt#alessia russo#woso blurbs#woso fanfics#woso imagine
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↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
Gif not mine!
— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader
— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k
— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about losing three times against you.
— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!
a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)
no use of y/n
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."
"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.
"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.
"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."
Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.
"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."
When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."
You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.
"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.
"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."
He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”
Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”
He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.
You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.
“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”
Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.
“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”
Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.
“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.
“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”
“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.
It had all happened last weekend.
Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.
At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.
Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.
Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.
You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.
Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.
How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…
“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”
Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”
The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.
“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”
“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.
“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.
You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”
Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.
“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.
You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.
“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”
His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.
“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.
“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”
You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.
Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.
Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.
But he didn’t.
Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.
“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”
Well shit. Now you had screwed up.
This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.
Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.
You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.
It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.
“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.
“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.
“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.
“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.
So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.
“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.
You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.
You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.
Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.
Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.
“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.
“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”
You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”
“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.
Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.
You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.
“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”
He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”
You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”
If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.
“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.
“No,” you huffed.
“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.
“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”
Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.
“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.
But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.
“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”
Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”
There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.
Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.
“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.
“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”
“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.
In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.
“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”
You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.
“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.
That was the night that started everything.
After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.
Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.
That’s how you ended up here.
Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.
“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.
“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.
“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.
“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.
“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.
The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.
“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”
“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”
And just like that, you’re left alone.
After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.
There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”
He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.
Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.
“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”
He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”
“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.
Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.
“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.
You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.
“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.
The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.
“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.
“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”
This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.
“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”
Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.
“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”
You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.
The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.
“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”
He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”
You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”
“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”
“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”
“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”
The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.
“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.
“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”
“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.
“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.
“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.
He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.
“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.
“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.
“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.
“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.
Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.
“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”
His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.
“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.
“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.
As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.
“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”
You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.
“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”
His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”
The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”
His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”
It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”
Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”
Three fucking times?
When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.
“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.
He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.
“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.
“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.
“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.
“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.
“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.
The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.
His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.
“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”
He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”
You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.
“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.
This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.
“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”
He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.
“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”
But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.
“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.
“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.
It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.
Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.
#joel miller#joel the last of us#the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#the last of us oneshot#the last of us hbo
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need to know
~ choso kamo x fem!reader (tattoo artist choso au)
~tags/cw: tattoo artist choso, fem reader, tattoo artist au, tattoos, needles, satosugu is canon, modern au, choso has a scar over his nose instead of his markings, strangers to friend to lovers (strangers rn) tiny lil man verbal bashing cause men are weak lil babies when getting tattoos, reader is a lil chubby, choso is on antidepressants, smoking/vaping, drinking
~ wc: 2.9k
~ "Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?"
You: Wednesday 8:45pm
Hi, I was just wondering if your books were still open? It says they are in your bio but in case I've missed it and they're closed, please ignore this message, sorry! :)
Kamo: Wednesday 9:23pm
Hey. No, they are still open. When were you looking to book? Do you have a specific design? Or are you looking for a flash?
You: Thursday 11:36am
Oh, hi, awesome! Thank you for getting back to me so quickly! I was looking to book next month, towards the end. On a weekend if that would be possible (I don't mind the time), and for the design, just a flash (design 3A) on your latest post on my upper arm, around 15-20cm. :)
You: Thursday 11:52pm
Unless you think it should be smaller or somewhere else, I'm not picky! I really want something of yours tattooed on me :)
Kamo: Thursday 12:15pm
Sure, no problem! I have the 24th free at 12pm. Does that work for you? The spot and size are fine, but I'll make up smaller and bigger stencils on the day in case you change your mind. The total would be $600 for the piece. However, I require a $100 deposit to secure your spot. I can send you the payment details once you confirm your interest. Please read through my FAQs on cancellation policies and further information.
You: Thursday 12:20pm
24th at 12pm is perfect! Thank you!! I'll send a deposit through now! Ahh, so excited! :)
Kamo: Thursday 1:07pm
You're welcome. Here is the link x. Please send a screenshot of your payment as proof. For the rest of the amount, I accept cash only. If you have any other questions, feel free to message me. See you on the 24th.
You: Thursday 3:30pm
Sending it now! Yay! Thank you so much! Super excited, see you! :)
Kamo: Thursday 4:35 pm
Seen
--
"I sound like an idiot, don't I?" you grumble as your friend reads over your chat with a tattoo artist.
You watch your friend tilt their glasses down, squinting at the screen as their mouth curls into a grimace. They try to hide it with a sniffle, disguising their obvious disgust over your intense enthusiasm.
"Not an idiot," they hand the phone back to you, a frown set in the crooked way it always did when they were uncomfortable. "Just really, really eager, which can be cute if you like that."
--
Choso is growing tired.
At what? There are too many contributing factors to the headache that had begun blooming his eyes five minutes after stepping into the studio to pinpoint the main culprit of his budding exhaustion. Maybe it was the late night/early morning combo, or perhaps it was the horrific lack of water and food he hadn't consumed in the last twenty-four hours. When was the last time he had taken his medication? Choso begins to run through the previous days in an attempt to remember when he had even glanced at the Zoloft sheet sitting in the bottom drawer of his trolley, but his attention is diverted from his lack of self-care to the man sitting in his tattoo chair.
It is coming up on the two-hour mark since his client walked in. With a brazen attitude that could rival a Greek god, the man had outlined what had to be the simplest fucking tattoo known to man. Choso had rolled his eyes at the frankly impressive and thorough drawing done by the twenty-something gym bro before shifting the paper off to his younger brother.
"Come on, it's easy! An hour tops, and then you've got like two fifty in your hand! You technically owe me an observation session, and this can be it." Yuji had gripped his brother's sleeve, tugging on it the way he used to when they were kids.
Taking in his younger half-brother as his apprentice was a good idea in theory. The two lived and worked together, so there was ample time for obvs and practice, but today was already busy, and Choso was feeling like complete and utter shit.
"Yuji, I don't want to do this. I have a client coming in at twelve for a full session, and I've got this headache and-"
"It's easy money, come on! Please." it technically was easy money. The design was a small band wrapped around the bicep, with no adornments or script, just a flat black line; it was the client himself that made Choso apprehensive.
"Fine." Choso sighed, and Yuji almost jumped into the air in excitement. "You prep and clean him; I'm not doing anything but the actual tattoo."
Yuji nodded eagerly and just about ran into the front room to confirm the walk-in appointment.
That was almost two hours ago, and Choso is still here, finishing up the outlines of the band on a guy twice his size but carrying on like a toddler. Each touch of the needle on skin had the man flinching and hissing through his teeth, and there is only so much Choso could take.
Choso eyes the clock nervously, his next appointment slot ticking closer but the second. There isn't going to be enough time to get out and grab a coffee or snack from the corner store. After another quick glance at the amount of work before him, Choso calls it fifteen minutes to twelve and clicks off the tattoo gun with a disappointed sigh.
"Hey, I'm sorry, but we might have to split this into two sessions."
He looks back over at this current client, who is sweating profusely. It takes everything in him to scowl in disgust at the once brazen man before him, but not the look on his client's face; Choso knows some form of repugnance had slipped through his composure.
"Yeah, sure, man, no sweat," the client replies, relief blatant in his sigh. "Sorry for taking so many breaks. I've got a weak pain tolerance."
That makes Choso feel a little bad.
"You're fine. I've just got a pre-booked client coming in like ten and need to set up." A little lie to hurry the man up.
Hope is so close. So attainable that Choso can almost feel the sun on his face, but the shop bells slice through any dream of a break.
"Hi, I'm here for my twelve with Kamo?"
Choso slouches, attention now on the conversation happening in the front room. It's not even twelve yet! Why would she be here so early?
"Yep! We've got you down for twelve, but Choso's still with someone, so if you wanna wait here, that's okay!" Yuji giggles in response.
"Ohh, I'm just here to ask if umm…Choso wanted a coffee or anything?" his name is a question on her tongue. "I'm going to go get one and wanted to ask if anyone wanted anything so you don't have to wait in line."
That's nice. Choso thinks and leans back on his chair, attempting to glimpse his new client, who has Yuji giggling at every word.
"I was just about to step out to get coffee so I can come with you, but I can get Cho's; you don't need to pay for him." Another giggle. God, his younger brother is shameless.
"That's okay! I can get them; just write your orders down so I don't forget!" the girl insists.
"Ohh, but-"disappointment fills Yuji's voice.
"Yuji, can you come here please!" Choso shouts down the hall, pulling his brother away from his new crush.
Yuji groans, then the shop bells ring again, and then the sound of footsteps shuffles down the hall.
"Yes?"
"Can you wrap him up and finish the payment? I need a smoke." Choso rolled back from the bed, handing over the second skin he has yet to unwrap.
Choso's brother sighs but offers the male client a friendly smile, sits down in the now vacant rollaway stool, and begins to prep the skin for wrap-up.
"I'll be back in five; if anyone needs me, tell them to wait." Choso grumbles the last part and offers a stiff wave to his current client before disappearing into the hall.
The knots in Choso's shoulder have been building for days now, and no amount of rolling or stretching seems to relieve the tension in his muscles, but it is nice to stretch and feel the blood move around him again. Heavy boots echo through the small shop as he stalks to the front desk, floorboards creaking under the weight of thick rubber soles. His fingers slip into his back pocket to reach for the small pack of menthols hastily shoved down after the abrupt end of his morning break.
Stepping out into the world, Choso is blinded by the sun. Having forgotten about the passage of time while being stuck indoors all day, he now stands stunned in the small alcove of the shop's entrance. The sun nears the centre of the sky, beating down the world in a heat never seen before. It wasn't even the beginning of summer, and the sweltering days were breaking temperature records. Choso shields his eyes with a hand, and even then, his vision is blurred as his retinas adjust.
The street is quiet; an abnormal silence had fallen over the usually busy road, but with the rising blistering temps, he suspects people aren't willing to brave the heat to shop or eat. Choso finds the familiar recess in the wall, a door had been there years ago but has long since been boarded up and now acts as refuge for him and his brother. Through any weather, time of day or season, the small alcove is a sanctuary for tired and burnt-out artists needing a second away from the constant buzz of tattoo guns.
Choso scans the few open cafes and bars for his mystery client. Mainly office workers on lunch break and mothers with strollers waiting for the afternoon pick up; he can't see anyone that fits the image he had concocted in his mind on the short walk over until he spots a girl standing in line across the way. The tattoos that adorn her legs are what Choso notices first. Patchwork pieces from different artists in black and white with pops of colour here and there, but for the most part are monochromatic, all spaced far enough to be their own pieces but not so much that they seem gap-y. He is impressed at the choice, knowing that when getting patchwork pieces, they are usually slapped in any available location, but from what he can see, every piece flowed into each other and told a story against her skin. Her arms are equally as covered, though with more room, and he is eager to see the works up close. A flash of pink catches his attention, and he narrows his attention on the pink My Melody backpack that she swings at her side, pink wallet clutched in her free hand as she shifts her weight from her toes to her heels. Choso smirks at the bag and finds himself willing her to turn so he can see the face of the girl who we had been staring at for the past five minutes.
He is staring and he needs to stop before he gets caught. Shifting his attention from the random woman, he fishes out his phone and focuses on the seemingly endless DMs and texts stacked on the lock screen. Sometimes, he wonders if he really should have gone into a career where his livelihood relied on communicating with strangers. With expert precision and one hand, he pulls a cigarette from the crumpled packet and slips the filter between his teeth. Biting down the filter, the taste of menthol fills his mouth, and relief floods his veins before settling in the deep groves of his brain. The cigarette isn't even lit yet, but his nervous system knows that the taste of mint will soon be followed by nicotine, and all will be well for a few minutes. Breaking the habit of smoking has been on Choso's New Year's resolution lists for the past three years, but he only ever lasts a few weeks before turning back to the comfort of those overpriced joints. Maybe next year will be the year. Choso digs through his pockets, fingers grasping for the lighter he keeps in his right pant pocket, but there is nothing. Maybe the other side? Still nothing. Third pocket? Fourth pocket? Nada. Zilch. Zero. Fuck.
There isn't enough time to go back inside to search for matches, and he had already popped the filter and doesn't want to waste the smoke, but it would get gross sitting in the packet- his headache grew.
"Choso?" a soft voice asks from above.
Choso looks up from his lap and is greeted by the most stunning woman he has ever seen. Breathing is no longer automatic as he stares at you, and when his lungs start to contract almost painfully, he realises and takes in an all too obvious breath.
It wasn't fair to look like that. With the sun illuminating your silhouette, cradling you in an angelic aura that has Choso debating on whether he should get on his knees and pray to you, but too much time has passed since you spoke and he acknowledged you that he has to say something, but all he can manage is a muffled yeah?
"I'm your twelve, but you look like you need a light?" you hold out a bright pink light between pretty pink manicured fingers.
Choso offers a tight-lipped smile to prevent the cigarette from falling from his mouth and takes the lighter, flicking it to life. "Thanks, I owe ya."
He holds the flame to the tobacco, and only when it glows bright does he pull the disposable away.
"It didn't cost me anything, so nothing to owe."
There is a beat of silence as you throw the light back into your bag before bending down to pick up the coffee you had set at your feet. "Also, a coffee." another offer towards him.
"The guy at the desk gave me your order, and I always buy my artists something before a session. I'm not hitting on you."
Your admission of this not being a move stirs something in him. Choso accepts the cold cup with a soft thank you, angling his hand away from yours, careful not to burn you with the lit smoke.
"I'll meet you inside. Give you a moment to yourself." you nod towards the door of the studio, feet already turning to start walking towards the entrance.
He watches you walk away, a smile creeping on his face despite not knowing why. You're as cute from the front as you are from the back, and he's glad the girl he had seen in the coffee shop is you. Soft curves make up your figure, dipping at your waist before filling out again over your bust. Choso feels his stomach twist in that familiar feeling, but he can't think of you like that; you're a client and nothing more. There is a mesmerising way in which you walk that has Choso unable to look away, and even when you've stepped into the studio, his gaze lingers on the empty space you once stood in until the rancid taste of burnt filter fills his mouth. Never in his life has he been as thankful for coffee as he is in that moment when burnt paper fills his senses. Taking a big gulp of the sweet but still bitter drink, it takes everything in him not to spit in the street, but he was raised better than that and will wait until he is in the small bathroom to spit up the gross contents.
--
When Choso returns, you are sitting on the small couch in the waiting room, filling out consent forms. Head down as you read the number of your ID and scribe it down in the open line; he walks past you, suddenly horrified by his heavy choice of shoe. The thick thud of the rubber soles on the hardwood has you lifting your head and smiling at your artist. Choso feels his stomach flip.
"So," Choso starts, but the smoke still in his throat chokes the word. He clears his throat and restarts his sentence. "So, do you smoke, or do you just carry the lighter?"
"My best friend smokes, so I just carry it 'cause you never know when you're gonna need a light." Your laugh is contained, almost forced, as if the interaction you are having is uncomfortable for you. Had he done something wrong?
"Ohh." Is his only reply as you return to the balanced folder on your lap.
Another moment of silence before Choso steps towards the hall. "I'll let Yuji check you in, and then just come in when you're ready." Had he already made you that uncomfortable in the two minutes you had spoken outside? Choso takes a deep breath as he steps into his space and suddenly wishes the whiney baby was the one getting tattooed.
--
You: Saturday 12:05pm
Dude, he is so fucking hot. I wasn't expecting him to look like that!! What do I do?!! Help?!?
Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:06pm
suck his dick? ik guys like that :P
You: Saturday 12:06pm
Idk what I expected from you. I need actual advice, please Saturo. U owe me!
Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:07pm
ooh first name, you're kinda scary. Okay, here is what you do. You act like a normal human and then flirt a lil and suss out if he's into it and then ask him out to drinks?
You: Saturday 12:08pm
That works if I KNEW HOW TO FLIRT. Ugh im screwed, he's so fine fuck
Number ONE best friend: Saturday 12:09pm
eww, you're getting ur jizz all over the screen. just breathe and be normal okay, pretend he's me.
You: Saturday 12:10pm
Ignoring the first comment. Im gonna sneak a pic and show u BRO YOU NEED TO SEE HIM
Number ONE best friend: 12:10pm
creepy but okeeeeyyy. Sugu also says to breathe and be normal but to ignore anything you think I would do
You: Saturday 12:11pm
Thanks, Suguru, please kill him for me, ill talk to u guys in a bit
Number ONE best friend:
good luck bestie 8======D
a/n: okay so there is going to be a part two but I'm not sure when, please give me feedback if you want it or want me to stop, put the laptop down and go outside lmao lil texting format, lemme know how y'all feel about that
#http tokki#₊˚⊹♡ tattoo artist choso#choso fanfic#choso x you#choso x reader#choso x y/n#choso x female reader#choso x chubby reader#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x you#choso kamo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#choso kamo fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#tattoo artist choso#tattoo artist au#multi chapter#choso multi chapter#choso x reader fluff#choso x reader imagine#choso x reader drabble#kamo choso x you#kamo choso x reader#choso kamo multi chapter
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Grandma MC: Please excuse my grandchildren. They are only worried. *chuckles*
Eirian: *smiles softly at her* It's fine with me. Don't worry.
Ace and Deuce: Tch.
Malleus: I don't like this man. This date is over.
Vil: We're going to end it if he does something inappropriate. For now, let's observe.
Rook: Oui! Let's give Monsieur a chance.
Ruggie: I don't understand why Grim gets to be with Granny though. What's he gonna do there? Annoy her suitor?
Ace: Huh? That's why he's there? Dude, the guy already won him over!
*Grim eating the snacks brought by Eirian*
Leona: Is there any surprise to that?
Grandma MC: Anyway, I think we should need to start this conversation. *smiles at him*
Eirian: Yes. As you are already aware of, I'm here to win your heart and with your permission, to be my wife.
Grandma MC: How sweet of you and you seem to be a kind gentleman. However, why would you be interested to an old woman like me?
Grandma MC: I'm sure you have a lot of women chasing after you. *chuckles*
Eirian: Indeed there are. Though I am not and will never be interested to any of them except you.
Eirian: You have captured my heart, my lady. And my feelings have never changed even after fifty years have passed.
Ruggie: Fif—
Ruggie and Ace: FIFTY YEARS?!!
Vil, Rook, and Riddle: *who already knew about the details so they were not shocked but were amused to see others' reaction*
Malleus: *dumbfounded*
Leona: Damn. That was such a long time ago.
Grandma MC: Oh dear... Why would you wait that long?
Azul: *nods* Yeah. I agree. That is a no-brainer.
Kalim: Come on! It's true love!
Jamil: Kalim, can you imagine Granny getting married to a young man who looks like our age? It doesn't matter if he's old, he still looks young.
Kalim: But... Can't he make her younger?
Jamil and Azul: ...
Azul: With all due respect, shut your mouth.
Kalim: Eh?
Jamil: If someone hears you— *sigh*— Just don't speak for the time being, Kalim.
Eirian: I can wait for you even for a thousand years— No. An eternity. The only reason I didn't pursue was because you were married.
Grandma MC: ...
Grandma MC: But I don't remember ever meeting you.
Grandma MC: To be honest, I thought it was my first time arriving here in Twisted Wonderland.
Eirian: *sad frowns* It seems your memories had been erased. Though I can assure you that we had met. I have evidences and the fact that you used to call me 'Rian'.
Grandma MC: My... Well, it does suit you. I'm glad I had given you a beautiful nickname. *chuckles*
Eirian: *blushes*
Ace: *yells* GRANNY!!!! YOU'RE MAKING HIM FALL IN LOVE!
Ace: STOP BEING NICE!
Vil: *kicks him* Who gave you the permission to yell at Granny?
Epel: Yeah! Yell at the guy! Not her!
Rook: Himeringo, that isn't good too.
Malleus: ...
Malleus: I'm ending this date now.
Riddle and Vil: Not yet!
Leona: So who are we really watching over here? You're all a mess.
Eirian and Grandma MC: *have talked for a few hours; mostly Granny listening to him of how they had met*
Eirian: It remained a mystery to me how you had arrived to the underworld and how it became possible for you to befriend the creatures living there.
Eirian: Normally, a human would run away in fear, but you... *smiling* You had held them in your arms like they were adorable and tiny.
Grandma MC: Well, they do sound adorable so I do not see the problem. *chuckles softly*
Eirian: ...
Eirian: *pulls out something from his pocket*
*It was the Sundrop Flower*
Eirian: My lady, I have a present for you.
Grandma MC: What a lovely flower...
Eirian: This flower can bring back your youth.
Eirian: *smiles reassuringly* Don't worry. I won't be asking you to answer me now.
Eirian: I'm giving this to you so you will be able to travel some places here in Twisted Wonderland.
Grandma MC: Why, how kind of you. I shall treasure this gift. *smiles*
Eirian: ...
Eirian: *hugs her*
Epel, Ace, Ruggie, and Deuce: GET YOUR HANDS OFF GRANNY!!!!
Malleus: *ready to cause havoc*
Grandma MC: *chuckles* You must leave now. My grandchildren are angry.
Eirian: I'll see you again.
Riddle: You all are embarrassing.
Leona: Except me. I was totally cool back there.
Vil: What is that flower, Granny?
Grandma MC: Oh, it is a gift from Rian. *smiles*
Idia: Isn't that the Sundrop Flower? Rumored to bring back youth?
Kalim: Bring back youth?
Idia: Yes. But they disappeared from existence years ago.
Azul: Does that mean...
The boys: ...
The boys: USE IT, GRANNY! WE WANT TO SEE!
Grim: Mryah! What's with you all?!
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"How many likes do you think this will get you?"
Scaramouche x Reader
♡ SMUT
♡ NOT PROOFREAD
ASHRODISIAC'S NOTE:
I have 3 quizzes tomorrow😭😭😭
But... theres always time for smut, right?
--
You post a photo of Scaramouche without a shirt and get the idea of slowly stripping him from a piece of his clothing each post, the amount of likes needed for the next tl be removed gradually increasing.
But... I guess he got a bit tired of it.
--
"A thousand likes?"
Scaramouche stared at your screen with a look of disgust, his brows furrowed as he watched comments burst in. "A thousand likes." You said, confirming what he was seeing, and continued: "On a photo of you without a shirt."
(anonymous): BARK BARK BARK
(cvm.slvt): PANTS NEXT 🙏
An idea bubbled up, and you turned with a devious but somehow innocent smile.
"Hey..." you said. He looked at you with a bored expression, seemingly unknowing to your plan. "What."
--
Scaramouche quickly put his clothes back on, all the while staring at the ground and muttering inconherent cuss words.
"Ten thousand likes, and his underwear's next... "
You wrote in your caption, below the photo you snapped... of Scaramouche.
Then, after thinking for a bit, you replaced the "ten thousand" with "twenty thousand", then changed it back. "How many likes do you think this is worth?" You asked. Scaramouche huffed, "don't know, don't give a shit. And I won't be doing this again, got it?"
You smirked, then replaced the "ten thousand" with "fifty thousand".
"Alright, then."
--
"Oh, shit..."
(hornyassshit): (reader's user) WHERE THE FUCK IS IT
You looked at the bustling amount of likes coming in every second, and how it was going well over what the desired amount was.
(Thelittlebitch): WE NEED MORE
"A hundred... fucking... thousand..."
(uwuuwuii): WHERE IS THE NEXT PART
"shit, shit, shit! What am I gonna do!?"
You muted the notifications, then sighed, clutching your phone. Then, switching your app to Discord, you rang a call to Scaramouche...
He answered the call before the ringing even started.
"The fuck you want now?" He was laying on his couch, his raven hair spread over his pillow.
"So... remember the last photo we took?"
He stared at the camera with irritation. "Don't tell me."
You smiled nervously, and was surprised by his sudden reply:
"Fine. Come over."
--
"How many likes do you think this will get you?
All you wanted was a photo from him, now you were in this position...
His palm against your spine, your back arching at an impossible angle, you barely heard what he had said at the absurd noise of skin slapping and your whines. "Looks like the viewers like it, and so do you, bitch." He chuckled, bringing the phone on the sheets closer to you, resting it on a pillow so you could see your own fucked out face in the camera. He had started streaming on your account.
"How many likes would it get you if I managed to get you pregnant?" He said in a mocking tone, his fingers trailing up your nape. You bit the fabric of his pillow, which smelled like his cologne, tears forming in your eyes. "Fucking slut for likers, are you?"
Notifications screamed from your phone, but the only thought settling in your empty mind was how good Scaramouche was fucking you, how good it felt...
"Cumming!" You yelped, the pillow you were burying your head in now soaked with tears and saliva.
"Fuck, so am I... Should I cum in or out?" Scaramouche asked, pressing his lips against your neck, panting slightly. Before you could answer, the comments did it for you...
(anonymous): IN
...fuck you, anonymous.
"In, it is, then."
Throwing your head back with a sob, your hips buckling, you felt him release. Your moans faltered as he pulled out, and you were left breathless. He kissed your sweaty forehead, and a notification rang on your phone.
(Thelittlebitch): round two plz
"oh, looks like your viewers really want a round two."
That user really was a little bitch, huh?
#scara#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche smut#smut#scara smut#smut scara#scaramouche x reader smut#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x y/n
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Vaultie
Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader
Fandom: Fallout
Request: Yes by @silverose365
Warnings: Angst, Strong Language, Fluff, Allusions to Cannibalism
Word Count: 2,119
Main Masterlist: Here
Fallout Masterlist: Here
Summary: If Cooper Howard had a nickel for every time he came across an escaped vault dweller looking to find her father and to change the world…
The sight of the blue Vault-Tec wandering through the Wasteland made The Ghoul let out a low growl. How many of these people were going to be popping up? He watched her wander around, trying to talk to some people, but they had just turned her away at the first sight of blue. She was not much different than the other Vaultie he had come across. Same kind of naive look in her eyes, along with hope. Hope was a commodity up here. Just as he was finishing up his last drink at the one bar within a hundred miles that would actually take his caps, this vault dweller strolled right on up to him.
“Excuse me, I was wondering if you were interested in a trade.” She pitched, shoulders back and a determined look on her face.
“Sorry darlin’, not interested in a whore tonight.” Howard spoke with a low drawl. He got great joy of seeing the appalled look on the vault girl’s face.
“Oh, I’m not a- that’s, that’s not what I was offering. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to this location. I have caps.” Pulling a piece of paper from her suit, she procured a pencil as well from a separate pouch. She put those items in one hand, and she wrestled with a bag on her hip that Cooper could hear the clanking of bottle caps coming from. The paper and pencil were set down in front of the ghoul, and she got her caps ready to give away. He grabbed the paper from the table and eyed her wearily as he read the address.
“Now what’s a vault dweller like you,” he gestured to her, “doing in a place like this,” motioning to their surroundings, “and looking for a place like this?” He finished by holding up the paper.
“I’m looking into Vault-Tec. The experiment they were running in my vault, it was barbaric to say the least. And when I found out things that I should not have, I escaped to here. The people down there, they don’t know any different than their life that has been played with and manipulated.” She explained, sitting down in the chair across from The Ghoul.
“Well, that is some might fine ideas. Afraid it won’t get you nowhere up here. Every few years, someone has a great idea to save the world. But it’s just a load of horseshit.” Cooper went on, fiddling with the paper in his hands.
“Look, I don’t particularly care about that. I’m on my own mission, and I need help to navigate this place. Now, what do you say? Fifty caps for directions on how to get there?” This Vaultie was testing his patience, but fifty caps is fifty caps. Without a word, Cooper wrote down on the piece of paper all the directions she would need. After that it was up to her to interpret and follow them.
“The caps?” He held out his hand while holding back the paper. Once the bottle caps were placed n his grasp, he counted them quickly, before handing over the paper and pencil to the Vaultie. But when she leaned in close, that is when he saw it. Words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.
“I didn’t catch your name, darlin’.” Cooper prompted, tugging back the paper at the last second before she could grasp it.
“I didn’t throw it. May I please have my paper and pencil back?” She tried one more time to swipe them, but Cooper was faster than she was.
“Be warned now. You go lookin’ into Vault-Tec, you probably not gonna like what you find. It’s a whole mess of an operation.” He stated, low and slow. There was something about this girl in front of him that he just could not put his finger on.
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m going to find out what they’re doing, and expose them.” Finally, she was able to get her hands on the paper and pencil in his other hand. She stood from the table, and turned to to leave when something that Cooper said caught her attention.
“You never know who is gonna be the one behind the shitstorm. Could be someone close to you. I don’t think your mind can handle the truth once you find it out, Vaultie.” Her face was thick with confusion, and then it was full of fury.
“I don’t give a fuck what you think I can and can’t handle. And I don’t know what kind of grudge you hold against us, but I couldn’t really care less. Besides, you took my caps so surely you can’t hate me that much.” And with that, she made her way out of the bar, and into the sweltering day ahead.
Cooper sat in that bar for a good long while nursing his final drink. This vault dweller was certainly different than the previous one. She could hold her own but to what end? Surely, she was not going to last long in the Wasteland. Downing the rest of the liquor, he threw some caps on to the table, pocketed the rest and set out. It was not hard for him to find her; the tracks in the sand making it easy. But he kept a distance from her, and made sure she never knew he was there.
As they traveled, Cooper saw less and less of a vault dweller, and more of a surface dweller in her. The way she negotiated, carried herself, and overall acted; you would never be able to tell she came from a vault had it not been for that blue jumpsuit. He never intervened, always waiting on the sidelines. But he did keep an eye on this determined vault dweller. The scariest part of her journey was when they came across fiends.
“Hello, little lady. What are you doin’ out here?” A man leered at her, crowding her against the side of the building that Cooper had hid behind. He watched intently, waiting to see if he would need to intervene.
“I’m just passing through. Excuse me.” She tried to move past the man, but he shoved her back. Another fiend came around to crowd her in, and another, and another, and another. She was outnumbered five to one, and was looking around in a desperate attempt to find an opening. Cooper moved his duster back and had his hand on his pistol, ready to dispatch of these men. However, that thought made him pause. What was he doing following this girl on her journey? Maybe that other vault dweller was making him soft. No, it could not be.
“Oh, she’s got manners. That’s a real sweet thing to come out of your mouth. Hopefully the rest of you is that sweet.” The leader made a move to grab her, and Cooper was ready to draw his pistol when a shot rang out.
The lead fiend dropped to the ground dead. Her gun was still smoking, and she wasted no time in shooting the four other men who tried to touch her again. By the end, she was splattered with blood and breathing heavily. She began to loot through their bodies while Cooper moved further back in the shadows. He tried to make no noise, but a rock slipped from under his feet and made the Vaultie’s head whip around to where he was standing. There was a beat of silence, but she turned back to her task at hand when she did not hear anything else.
From then on, Cooper had no reason not to trust that she could handle herself. It had been so long that he had cared for anyone other than himself. The feeling was so foreign now, but it crept in without his say so. The unknowing duo walked for days and days, until finally their destination came into view. The broken, and abandoned building stood tall even with all thee destruction around it. She made her way in, but Cooper remained outside. The Ghoul found the shadiest spot alongside the building, and stopped for a rest and water.
The vault dweller began to look around the decrepit building, finding the floor where Vault-Tec records were held, and began to climb the stairs. There was nothing stopping her now; she could see the finish line. Once she was inside the Vault-Tec office, she Egan rifling through the files on the desks. What she found, astounded her.
Hundreds of vaults, and their subsequent experiments. The depth of human depravity never ceased to amaze her. While the description of her vault made her angry, the others made her blood boil. Human lives treated like lab rats in a sick and twisted experiment for society’s so called betterment. Stowing the files in her bag, she began to look around for information from before the vaults. Files detailing how they would get people down into those vaults that they created were littered about. But the more she read, the more the was enraged. However, there was one file that caught her attention.
Pages that described the bombings in great detail, dated hundreds of years ago. And she read through everyone. She was losing daylight, but she needed to read through everything. Her eyes scanned hundreds of words, and was trying to process everything when she finally go to the page that was used as the sign off sheets for the bombings. When she read the names of those who signed off, her heart dropped. The file slipped out of her hand, and there was no feeling left in her body.
Her father signed off on these bombs.
It took a while for the feeling to return to her limbs. When it finally all hit her, a scream tore through her vocal chords before she could stop it. All the pent up emotions and memories that now felt scarred; it was all coming out now. She calmed herself down, and snatched the file from the ground. As much as she hated it, she knew it was going to be important. There was no way around it if she wanted to help the people in the vaults.
Making her way back outside the building, the sunset ahead was painting the sky in a brilliant red with streaks of purple and orange. She went to turn the side of the building and was met with The Ghoul that had first helped her with the directions that led her here. He was leaning against the building, but was quick to stand up straight when he heard her round the corner. His undead heart broke just a little bit when he saw the broke look on her face. It was so different to the determined face that she held, even in the times that she should have been scared out of her wits.
“You alright there, Vaultie?” His tone was laced with concern that was not normal anymore. Cooper stepped closer, opened his arms, and brought her in close. She tried to fight, but her arms felt weak even to her as she tried to hit the ghoul before her. Her punches did not even make a dent in the man, but he let her get all of her frustration out before he knew the inevitable drop. And drop she did. Once her energy and anger were exhausted, her legs gave way and she collapsed in Cooper.
“Calm down there, darlin’. You’re alright now. The pain’ll go away soon.” He comforted the girl in his arms.
“Did you know?” She whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Yes.” He replied.
“I know it stings, darlin’. I warned you not to go lookin’. Knew you wouldn’t like what you found.” Howard continued, now stroking his gloved hand over her hair.
“But I needed to. I need to know what is going on. It’s so sheltered down there, and people are so naive. They deserve to know,” came her soft cry. It broke his heart even further apart.
“You’re doin’ a very selfless thing here. You’re gonna be alright though. Already survived bein’ up here for this long. You’ll make it up here Vaultie.” It was comforting to hear such kind words after being on the surface and away from home for so long.
All the girl did was nod into The Ghoul’s chest. She was going to be fine, and she was going to help the people in the vaults. Her mind was alright made up; she was no longer going to be a vault dweller and apart of their twisted system. She was now a surface dweller, and really needed to get rid of her jumpsuit.
#rebelliousstories#writing#cooper the ghoul howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard imagine#cooper howard#the ghoul imagine#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#fallout imagine#fallout
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Where my soul can rest
Rhysand x reader
word count: 2.6k
Warnings: heartbreak
Authors note: Hii! this was heavily inspired by Ariana grandes song "I wish I hated you" but actor version. Let me know what you think! and as always your support is super appreciated! (I did write a little update on the reader if you would like that also)
You had been Rhysands first love and he, yours. You had spent the first hundred years of your life with him as friends, always dancing on the line of something more but never daring to cross the line in fear of what would happen if something went wrong. If it wasn’t for Cassian's and Azriel's timed intervention you would have never gotten the honor of being loved by your high lord.
Deep down you knew that crossing that invisible line that separated friendship from romantic relationship was a terribly bad idea but when the opportunity had presented itself you couldn’t help but throw yourself into the whirlwind of being Rhysands lover. Something about it was so intoxicating. Loving him was like feeling the high of every drug and tonic that existed without ever having to feel any of the side effects or more importantly never having to come off the high that was loving him.
There was a part of your mind that was constantly nagging you about how terribly this could all end. How in a moment's notice everything you had ever loved could be ripped out from beneath your feet and there wouldn’t be anything you could do to stop it. It truly was your worst nightmare but everytime you would voice your fears to Rhysand he would gently cup your cheeks and kiss along the path made by the tears that had rained upon your face whilst promising nothing would ever take him away from you, and each time you believed him. You had believed him because he was so convincing and his eyes were so full of love. How could you not believe him?
Over the course of almost five hundred years together you had been through every trial and tribulation and had always come out on the other side successful. That was until Rhysand was trapped under the mountain with no way of escaping for fifty years. In that time Velaris had been hidden away from the world and left to survive on its own. With Rhysand gone it was up to you and the rest of the inner circle to protect Velaris and keep it afloat. So without hesitation that's what you did. For years you took care of the people and city making sure to deal with any threat before it could make its way to the beloved city.
Rhysands return was abrupt and unexpected but certainly welcomed. Running through the house of wind you round the corner to see your lover standing in the living room surrounded by the rest of your family. Silently you watched from afar as everyone welcomed him home. Tears once again found the familiar route they’ve taken plenty of time in the last fifty years, down your face. Slowly you made your way to the center of the room where everyone gathered, not approaching too quickly in case this was a dream and he would be gone if you made any sudden movements.
Once on the edge of the small crowd you could truly take in the male in front of you. One look at him and you could tell that whatever happened under there had changed him. But nonetheless this was Rhysand, your Rhysand. The man you had loved your whole life and finally after so long he was standing in front of you again.
He reached for your arm and gently tugged you into his chest where you finally broke down and let the tears reconstruct the routes along your face and the sobs rack your body. He held you in his arms, face pressed into his chest while his arm wrapped around your back squeezing your body further into his and his other arm rested against the top of your back while his hand rested in your hair. Rhysand hoped you couldn’t feel his heart breaking with the knowledge that what the two of you once had would soon be no more, for he had finally found his mate.
For weeks after Rhysands return you could feel that something was off but you had just brushed it off as anyone who had just spent fifty years trapped underneath a mountain, with a crazy dictator as a ruler, would also be a little off. Unfortunately for you that nagging voice in the back of your head had reappeard and its confidence had grown since the last time it had paid you a visit. But it was not the time to dwell on the unconfident thoughts your subconscious had decided to hand over to the conscious part of your mind. Now was not the time for Rhysand to comfort you and tell you everything would be alright. No, right now you needed to be there for him in the form of absolute unwavering love and support so you fiercely pushed those thoughts back into the abyss in the back of your mind where thoughts go to die.
If there was one thing Rhysand was, it was a hard worker. So it came as no surprise to you when upon his return he hit the ground running and had resumed his role as high lord. No one would have judged him for needing some time to heal from the trauma he had endured but he insisted now was not the time for rest. Now was the time to pick up the pieces from Amarantha. Each morning you watched as Rhysand left to fix whatever thing he had deemed broken and it never came as a shock to you when he left before the sun had even risen and returned when the moon had taken over for its daily shift.
What did come as a surprise was when Morrigan had returned from the moonstone palace with tears in her eyes. “Mor? What's wrong?” your questions hit her like thousand pound bricks that had been hurtled at her. The pure concern in your voice had made her want to cry. Never had she thought Rhysand would find someone who wasn’t you but she had just returned from meeting Feyre and it made her want to vomit. In the empty halls of the moonstone palace Rhysand had begged his cousin for her to be the one to tell you of Feyres existence, of her relationship to Rhysand. Never once had Rhys ever asked anything from her and without a doubt she would do anything for him but this was a burden that was too heavy for her to handle by herself. But Rhysand had been by her side in her darkest moments so she would be by him during his darkest moment. “Y/n I need to tell you something but first you need to sit down.” Mor watched as your face shifted from concern to fear. She watched as you took residence in the nearest set and looked at her expectantly. Morrigan made her way over to you and silently kneeled before you placing her hands upon your legs and prayed to the mother above that what she was about to tell you wouldn’t destroy you. Deep down she knew her prayers were not going to be answered. “I have to tell you something. But I need you to listen to me no matter how much it hurts to hear. No matter how much it breaks your heart, ok?” Mor moved her hands to yours and gently rubbed circles against the back of your hand. Heavens know you will need the support.
“Y/n.” The tone of her voice had your heart thumping against the cage of your ribs. If you weren’t scared before then you certainly were now. With a shaky breath she started again. “Y/n. Rhysand found his mate. She's the girl who freed them from the mountain. Eventually” you heard nothing more as a loud ringing sound overtook your hearing and you practically collapsed on top of Mor while sobs ripped through your body. Morrigan held you as the sounds of your soul breaking rattled off the walls piercing her heart. She rocked you back and forth while smoothing your hair down until you fell asleep from exhaustion and heart break. The sounds of your heart broken cries will haunt her in her sleep. Morrigan refused to move from her spot on the floor where your body had curled into hers in fear of waking you up and forcing you to relive your heart break. Mor didn’t look up as she felt the presence of her cousin in the room. She didn’t look up as he crouched down and gently moved the hair covering your face to behind your ear. She didn’t look as he took in your disheveled appearance and tear stained cheeks that matched while he had a look of pain painted across his own face. She loved her cousin but a part of her knew she would never forgive him for the hurt he has caused you. There may even be a part of her that hates him for what he did. And Rhysand knew it too.
From then on out you had made it a point to avoid your past lover. Morrigan had carried you to her room where you slept for the rest of the night and into the early morning. Silently you made your way to what once was your shared bedroom to find it empty much to your relief. Without asking, the house had helped you move your items into a spare bedroom where you spent the next three days hiding from the inner circle while packing what was important to you and getting rid of what wasn’t. By the fourth day you were ready to leave everything was packed and all you had to do was say goodbye. As much as it would pain you to leave the people you had called family for your whole life you knew you couldn’t stay, it would be far too painful. And you weren’t willing to torture yourself everyday for the rest of your life just to be able to be around your family. You could love them from afar. From a place with enough distance that you could not run back when the overwhelming sense of heartbreak became too much.
Rhysand knew you were avoiding him and he couldn’t blame you. If he had been in your position he was sure he would do the same but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. If there was one last thing Rhys could do for you, it was give you the chance to have a peaceful goodbye with the rest of your family without him there. But he did ask that Azriel and Cassian inform him when you were done with your goodbyes. He had a lot of regrets in his life but not saying goodbye to you wasn’t going to be one of them. He was sure that he was the last person you wanted to see but after nearly five hundred years together there was no way he was letting you go without seeing you one last time. Even if it was the most selfish thing he has ever done.
You could feel his presence in the room as you had gripped Morrigan in a bittersweet hug goodbye. Pulling back she takes in the unshed tears lining your eyes and it takes everything in her to be strong for you. “Go out there and make me proud, yeah?” There would never be a moment when she wasn’t proud of you but you knew she meant was go out there and do more than survive this heartbreak, thrive because you are more than capable. Nodding you quickly wipe the fallen tears “Don’t I always?” Morrgian gave your hands one last tight squeeze and reluctantly let go. Stepping back you take in the people who have made up your family for centuries, for one last time before moving to the balcony where Rhysand followed you out. For a while nothing was said, just the wind whispering quiet nothings as it brushed past your face while Rhys soaked up what he was sure to be his last moments with you. “I am so incredibly sorry it happened this way but I can’t let.” you refused to let him finish what he was going to say. “I know.”
“You know that even with all of this, I still love you. There will always be a part of me that loves you.” slowly you pull your gaze away from the setting sun to look at him. “I know.” It was silent for a few moments, neither of you not sure what to say. Finally he got the courage to speak up. “I know you probably hate me right now. Hell, I would also hate me if I were you. You had always had your fears about what would happen should this day ever come and each time I told you not to worry because nothing could ever take me from you but I was wrong. I was so so wrong and it wasn’t right of me to pretend like this situation wasn’t a possibility. I know that no matter how many times I tell you I am sorry it will never make up for the hurt I have put you through. All I ask is that one day when you find the forgiveness in your heart and peace in your soul you come and visit us. Our family will never be the same without you.”
“I wish I hated you. I really wish I did.” All Rhysand could do was nod at your confession as much as it broke his heart he knew he had no room to ask for forgiveness. “There was always some part of me that knew we weren’t meant to be but that doesn’t make it hurt less. In some ways it makes it hurt more knowing this end was inevitable. I can’t say that I will ever forgive you for what you have done but no matter how I feel about that I only wish the best for you. You deserve it. There is a part of me that wishes none of this happened, that I could keep you to myself and continue to live in that peaceful bliss with you but I would hate myself from keeping you from her.” Rhysand watched as the gold sun danced upon your face and reflected from your eyes and the tears lining them.
“Our paths were never meant to cross like they have. We were always better off as friends. We both know that. So go live the life you deserve with the girl of your dreams.” Rhys' eyes tracked the rouge tear that gently slid down your cheek. Seeing you stand so brave in the face of heartbreak while refusing to yield to the waves that pummeled you relentlessly in overpowering emotions made a small part of him proud to see you so strong but another part was saddened by the fact he did this to you. “And what about you?” shrugging you turn to face the fading sun. The irony was not lost on you, of the sun's departure along with your impending one. “And what about me?” you glance at him over your shoulder “Where will you go? What will you do? How will we know if you're safe?” for a moment you thought of an answer to give to your oldest friend but all the answers evaded you. “I will go where my soul can find rest and my heart can repair itself. Other than that I have no answers. I will find the rest as I go and figure it out along the way.”
That was the last time anyone in the inner circle had seen you.
#rhysand x reader#rhysand x y/n#rhysand x you#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you#rhysand angst#rhysand imagine#rhysand oneshot
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CALYPSO:
Warning: Smut.
A/N: Inspired by Bryson Tiller’s new song Calypso. I never write smut on my own page(only collaborations with other writers) so I’m nervous about this one.
Everything written is a work of fiction (AKA: not real in any way, shape or form.) Fan fiction is purely for entertainment purposes and not intended to offend/misrepresent anyone or be disrespectful in any way.
Jack scanned the room, peeking behind the curtain as he hoped to see your familiar face in the crowd. He knew you two hadn’t been on speaking terms for over a month but if he knew you, he knew you’d still show up and show him what he was missing.
“Fifty bucks says she’s not coming” Neelam whispered to Urban as they both watched Jack nervously pace around backstage.
“She’s on the guest list. She’ll be here” Urban smirked, knowing the routine like clockwork, and shaking Neelam's hand. You and Jack would be at each other's throats, fall off and then fuck out your aggressions before acting like nothing had ever happened. You were the reason he even agreed to a residency in California, he hated Pacific time zones but for you, he’d do just about anything.
Jack was anxious, as the time to take the stage was growing closer. You however were waiting in the parking lot with your friend Bria, knowing just how to play it.
“He starts here in like five minutes” Bria checked her phone for the third time. She was trying to follow your lead, but the heels she chose for the night were already killing her.
“I know, that’s why we aren’t going in there for another twenty” you giggled, knowing that your lack of time management would drive him crazy. You had a habit of pushing his buttons, knowing it would only benefit you once he took you to his hotel tonight.
“I have an extra pair of heels in my trunk” You opened the trunk of your car as she eagerly hopped out of the passenger seat.
“You have extra everything in here” Bria giggled essentially finding your second wardrobe, as she changed into your shoes.
“Have to be prepared for anything” you smirked as you applied your lip gloss a final time, the sounds of Jack's second song ringing in your eardrums. “Ready?”
As soon as you entered the club you checked your silenced notifications from Jack, he had text you three times since he had gotten to California early this morning and he hated being ignored, clicking notify anyway with no shame.
His eyes were on the entrance of the club as he performed, eagerly still searching for you. A smile he was unable to hide spread across his face once he saw you enter the room. You got butterflies as soon as you heard his voice coming through the speakers, as much as you tried to deny it you were captivated by him and absolutely in love with him.
He wanted nothing more than to jump off that stage and make his way over to you, his desperation obvious as sweat rolled down the side of his face. He was only a few songs in and promised to do a 45-minute set.
You and Bria ordered espresso martinis and made your way to the VIP lounge that Jack had set up for you both. You kept your eyes on him as you took off your blazer jacket, showing him the navy blue sequined dress you had on.
Jack sang one of his lyrics incorrectly, only you had noticed though as the club was loud and roaring the lyrics back at him. You sat down as Neelam, Urban and some of Jack's other friends joined you.
“Where’d you get that?” Neelam hugged you as you babied your martini glass, tapping your fresh acrylics against it.
“The bar! Do you want me to order you one?” You smiled as you noticed there were only champagne bottles in your section.
“I got it, I’ll order some for everyone” Neelam smiled at you and Bria as Urban sat down beside you with a smile on his face.
“What’s that about?” You hummed between sips.
“I just earned fifty bucks” Urban leaned over to talk in your ear as the music was increasingly louder.
“She never thinks I’ll show” You shook your head, before asking Urban if he wanted to try your drink.
He took the glass from you and took a sip. “To be fair, you were later than usual this time.”
“He made me madder than usual this time” You stole the drink back playfully before he finished the last gulp of it.
When Jack was finished with his set he went backstage and showered, he wanted to make you wait but was worried he’d miss you if he did. So he rushed, throwing on an extra set of clothes and making his way to the section but not before stopping and making a special song request to the DJ that was on after him.
Bria and Urban sat together as you watched him take long strides toward you, you did hate the toxicity but loved the way he wore a look of annoyance. His jaw was always tight, the crease between his eyebrows prominent as he made his emotions evident to you.
“You’re late” he spoke to you through gritted teeth, before swiftly pulling you in for a front-facing hug. His chest always felt like home to you, but you didn’t want to give in so easily, pulling back instinctively.
“Nice to see you too” You rolled your eyes, turning to the couch to grab your blazer, a power move as he held his arm out to stop you.
“Please” he begged, not too proud to. “Please, stay.” The lights in the club hit his baby blues perfectly.
You eyed him up and down as you gave in, moving closer to him. You saw the emotions in his face, knowing you had a lot to apologize for even if he wasn’t completely innocent.
“I’m sorry” you spoke loud enough for him to hear over the music.
With perfect timing, your song started playing, and a giggle escaped you. “You did this?”
He shook his head, “No, must be a divine coincidence.” You knew he wasn’t being truthful, but appreciated the soft gesture.
“I’m sorry too” he leaned into you, the smell of his cologne enticing you. You looked up to locate the cameras but Jack didn’t hesitate, his lips latched to your neck as his hands explored your backside.
“Jack, there are a lot of people here” You tried to subtly push him off of you as his friends crowded the two of you, making a human shield. “The cameras are going to spot us” you moaned into his lips as he kissed you passionately, the kisses growing sloppier by the second.
“I don’t give a fuck, let’s give them a show” he rasped knowing that’s exactly what you were looking for to let loose. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. The music was your guide as you danced together, your bodies grinding against one another’s.
Jack turned you around, your hips grinding against his lap, as he kissed your neck. The smell of your sweet perfume mixed with sweat was pushing him to the edge.
You knew the look on his face too well, finding yourself palming his hard-on, making his breath hitch against your lips as he mumbled into them.
“Let’s go” he pleaded, his blue pupils blown and desperate.
You nodded, taking his hand and following him as he guided you backstage to grab his car keys. “Hotels about ten minutes away” he swallowed hard as he shoved his keys into his pocket but you didn’t want to waste any time, locking the door behind you.
Jack heard the door lock, turning to you for verification. You wasted no time as you unzipped and unbuttoned his pants for him.
“Baby? Here?” His breath hitched, knowing he wasn’t going to last long at all.
“I can’t wait another minute” you whispered as you hiked up your dress.
“Take it off” he licked his lips, knowing you were so eager was making it hard to control himself and the kisses you teased up his thighs weren’t helping.
“Can you say please?” You knew he was at his limits his legs trembling already.
“Now” he rasped, impatiently helping you get undressed for him, he kissed you as his fingers made their way to your thong, pulling it off easily as you loudly moaned into his kisses.
“Louder princess” he commanded, loving the sounds you made.
It was then that a knock on the door interrupted you, causing you to freeze. “Jack” you whispered in a panic, lightly pushing his shoulder.
“Didn’t I say let’s give them a show?” He smirked sliding his fingers into you and kissing you sloppily knowing how vocal you’d become.
#Jack Harlow#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow imagines#jack harlow blurb#jack harlow concepts#Jack Harlow fanfic#warning: smut
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Palpation - RMTJoel!Miller x f!Reader - 18+
Rating: 18+
Summary: You need a massage and thankfully a new place opened up a few blocks away… There you’re introduced to the deliciously professional RMTJoel!Miller. He makes you feel good… maybe too good? (AU - NO OUTBREAK)
Words: 6.8k
Tags: RMTJoel!, unprofessionalism in the workplace, power imbalance (kinda?), consent king, massage (external and internal heh heh I'm so dang funny), soft!Joel, public sex, fingering, handjob.
a/n: Went for a massage at the spa (thanks to a thoughtful xmas gift!) and came up with this idea. I wanna make it REAL clear that this is FANTASY. Meaning RMT’s ain’t there to be sexualized. It’s all for the sensual fun of this story, but in no way should this EVER happen in real life. Alright, onto the smut.
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Palpation
"You need to see a massage therapist."
"No I don't," you insist scowling at your roommate Pam as you come hobbling across the room to sit next to her, pizza box in hand.
"It's been a week of you complaining about a sore back you got... How again?"
"Sneezing," you mumble with a frown. Pam opens the pizza box and you two grab a slice. Nothing to remind you of your age like pulling a muscle sneezing.
"A massage place just opened up a few blocks away last month. I saw it when I was getting groceries," Pam says pulling up her phone and typing quickly. "It's called ... Mill."
"Sounds pretentious."
"Looks gorgeous."
"Any reviews?"
"Yeah like sixty," Pam says sounding impressed. "Place has a 4.9 out of 5 on Google."
"Probably paid for them," you murmur, wiping your greasy fingers on your napkin.
"There are photos," Pam says. "This place looks stunning."
She holds up her phone and you swipe through several images of beautiful pristine rooms with the luscious looking massage tables. It's like through the phone you can smell lavender and hear gentle wind chimes playing.
"I've never been for a massage before," you say with a nervous glance back at her face. "Laying naked on scratchy sheets while some random person is touching me all over gives me the creeps."
"They're professionals," Pam says rolling her eyes and smirking. "They change sheets between clients and you wear as many clothes as you feel comfortable in."
Hmm. You didn't know that.
You consider this proposition as you flip through what to watch on Netflix. You have to admit that the idea of a massage sounds appealing after a solid week of being in pain and hunching when you walk. Pamela gloms onto the fact that you're being swayed.
"Okay I'm booking you in with the person all the reviews recommend" Pam says typing away.
"Guy or girl?"
"Guy."
"Oh."
"What?"
You wince. "Isn't it weird for a guy to massage a girl?"
"I get massages from guy massage therapists all the time," Pam says rolling her eyes at you. "It's
only weird if you make it weird."
///
This was a terrible fucking idea.
As soon as you walk through doors of "Mill" a week later you feel out of place. Beautifully carved doors and sumptuous looking couches decorate the front room. It smells like heaven in here, warm and fresh. Everything is so fancy.
You are not fancy.
You are anxious.
You've shaved every part of your body in a panic that morning, unsure if this is the correct protocol. What if they get grossed out by massaging body hair? What if your skin is too dry? What if your back is disgusting? You've never really looked at it that closely.
Pam told you they don't care, that they see actually gross shit every day and that your body will be a welcome change of pace. But you don't trust her because Pam also told you that you could pull off red leather pants in college.
She was definitely wrong about that.
A pleasant woman of about fifty sits at the front desk typing away. When you approach she smiles brightly at you.
"Hello welcome to Mill. Do you have an appointment?"
"Yeah, hi, I'm here for the four pm," you say softly. This place is so serene it feels weird to speak louder than a whisper.
"And with which massage therapist?"
"Uh, I'm not sure, my friend booked it."
"Not a problem," the receptionist says with a bright smile as she passes you over a clipboard with a sheet and pencil attached to the clasp. "Just fill this in."
You look over the intake form, blown away by all the questions asking about everything from allergies to if diabetes runs in the family. You fill this in swiftly; your eyes darting to the clock over the door leading to what you assume are massage rooms. You've got ten minutes. You lick your lips nervously and go back to the form. You turn the page over, circling on the diagram of the human body where your pain is.
The last part is a yes or no checkbox.
1. I bruise easily
No.
2. I sleep 8+ hours a night
Fuck I wish. Nope.
3. I have back problems
Seems like a stupid question on a massage form. But yes, obviously.
4. I am satisfied sexually
Your pencil hovers over that question as your cheek heats up. You know it's asking you this for medical reasons but it still makes you feel embarrassed when you tick off: "No".
You finish the rest of the check boxes and then return the sheet and clipboard back to the woman. She gives you a smile and indicates behind you.
"Take a seat and he'll call you in."
You slip back into one of the oversized chairs as a beautiful black woman with heels walks in. She swishes by you with a smile before turning her attention to the receptionist.
"Hi, I have a four o'clock with Tommy."
"Perfect, I'll let him know."
The woman takes a seat next to you in one of the chairs typing. She's stunning with long legs and glossy black braids. Her large almond eyes drift over to you.
"Have you been here before?"
You shake your head. "No, have you?"
"No but my co-workers wouldn't stop talking about it," she says with a laugh. "I figured what the hell, ya know?"
"My roommate booked the appointment for me," you tell her grinning. "The thought of-"
Before you can finish your thoughts a voice reaches out.
"Maria?"
A handsome man pops out from around the door, glancing to the other woman and you're struck by how muscular he is. How glossy his dark hair is and how his pants fit him just right.
Thank Christ he's not my massage therapist. I would not be able to have his hands on me.
"Maria?"
"Hi," the girl says and you can see she has been similarly affected. If she was a cartoon there would have been steam coming out of her ears.
"Hi, I'm Tommy," the man says with a charming smile as Maria pulls her purse to her shoulder. "Follow me to room 1."
Maria stumbles after Tommy's disappearing figure but not before shooting you a look over her shoulder and mouthing "What the fuck?"
You hold in a giggle as the door closes. You pull out your phone hurriedly composing a text to Pam.
[3:58pm] You need a massage with a guy named Tommy here. Definitely your type.
You scroll back through a few work emails distracted until the door to the hallway opens with a creak.
A deep voice says your name and your glance up from your phone just in time to see a tall man with the sweetest smile you've ever seen standing in the doorway holding a clipboard. His dark curls are brushed back, threaded with silver.
Please no. He can’t be for me. He’s even hotter than the other one!
"Hi I'm Joel," he says extending a hand out to you as you stand and approach him. "I'll be your therapist today."
Shocked, you just stare at how long the fingers are, how broad the palm is that leads up to forearms and biceps just meant to squeeze. The white t-shirt he wears literally strains over his broad shoulders and biceps. And then you see it, the small dimple in his right cheek over a neatly trimmed beard. Your heart actually flutters at the sight of it.
He's fucking gorgeous.
And just as that thought registers with you, a dawning horror begins to flood your senses.
There's no way you're getting a massage from him. He's going to touch your almost naked body? He's going to be so... Close? Rubbing?! Just looking at him is causing a heartbeat to begin between your legs.
You still haven't reached out to shake his hand and Joel takes it back quickly, looking embarrassed.
"Follow me to room four."
On shaky legs you stumble after him in much the same way Maria did after Tommy. You watch the way his body moves so languidly, graceful despite his size. You try to ignore the twitch of his tight ass as he moves, willing yourself to focus on the artwork gracing the walls or observing how clean everything is.
Once inside the small space you take a chance to look around. It's simple, pristine white with dark grey floors. The walls hold pictures of nature, a horse walking through the forest. It's very calming to look at. It also smells divine in here, like a spring meadow. But you're not sure if it's the room or the man in the room with you.
You stroke the soft blanket overtop the expensive looking massage table, stilling in surprise as you feel its warmth. Joel is seated on a small rolling stool and he grabs a pen from behind his ear.
"So what brings you in today?"
"Is this blanket heated?"
"Uh," Joel looks confused at your response. "Yes."
"Jesus," you whistle impressed before you realize he's asked a question "Oh, I, uh, I've been having some back stuff lately."
"Work related injury?" He asks, pencil poised above your intake form on his clipboard.
"No."
"Did it come on suddenly?"
Do not tell him the truth.
"I was playing basketball and I wrenched it," you tell him airily as if innate athleticism is just one of your many gifts.
"Where exactly?" Joel asks coming to a stand and walking over to you. You try not to shake as he approaches. He tucks the pencil behind his ear and the clipboard under his arm.
"Uh, here," you say turning from him and pointing to your lower back. You face the wall surprised to see a mirror there. You see Joel in the reflection and watch his face turn studious as he stares at your lower back.
"Is it alright if I touch you for the assessment?" Joel says, eyes scanning down your back. You swallow.
“Sure.”
Please touch me everywhere.
Wait. When did that happen? When did the thought of Joel touching you go from terrifying to enticing?
You feel his large forefinger skate down your spine and dip to the dimple at your lower back. You inhale sharply, thighs pressing together tightly trying to tamp down the pleasured shiver that wants to take you over.
You see Joel's dark eyes dart to the mirror looking concerned as he meets your gaze in the reflection.
"You okay? That hurt?"
"No," you reply confused. "Why?"
"You're tremblin'."
He pulls back obviously concerned he's pressing too hard and you pray he doesn't notice your cheeks heating.
"No uh, just a little cold." You give a shaky laugh. "Good thing you have a heated blanket."
Joel gives a little half smirk and turns, pulling the pencil from behind his ear once more.
"Psoas major," he murmurs, making a note on his clipboard. "Pretty common for low back pain. Gonna start in the mid back and work my way down. Then I like to end with you facing up so i can get at those neck muscles. That work for you?"
"Yep."
"Great, just need you to sign this consent form."
He holds it out to you and you give it a cursory glance before scrawling your signature at the bottom. At this point you're willing to sign your voice away to a sea witch if it means getting Joel's hands on you quicker.
"Alright now, I'm gonna step out for a few so you can undress and get up on the table under the sheet. I'll knock before I come in. Alright?"
"Okay."
He gives a small smile before moving past you out the door, closing it behind him. He smells amazing. It's not the room smell. You can't place it but its warm and masculine and...
Oh fuck you're supposed to be getting undressed.
You hurriedly strip until you're in nothing but your underwear. You place all your things on the chair near the door. After a pause you move your bra underneath the pile.
You pull yourself up on the massage table maneuvering yourself until you're breast and belly down with your head nestled in the tufted face hole of the table.
You pull the warmed top sheet up to your neck and are amazed at how relaxed you already are. Maybe Pam was right maybe you have needed a massage all this time. You could drift off right here.
Tap tap.
"You ready?"
Your heart slams against your ribcage. That beautiful man is going to touch you. Rub you with oil with those big delicious looking hands of his.
"Uh, yeah ready," you call out in a strangled voice.
Calm the fuck down.
You hear the door open and close. All you can see face down is the hardwood floor. The lights dim and your straining ears hear the sound of Joel tapping on his phone. Soft meditation -like music fills the room and you take a deep breath as his voice murmurs next to you.
"That okay?"
"Yep."
He could play Scottish fucking bagpipes for all you care. You just want him to touch you.
"Your form says you've never had a massage before," Joel says quietly and you see his shoes underneath the table. Basic white Tom's should not turn you on the way that they do right now.
"No."
"Alright well just so you know, the next part is I'm gonna lower the sheet to your comfort level and then we can start. Yeah?"
"Yep."
The shoes are gone from your vision and you feel him drag down the blanket over your naked back until it rests low on your spine, just at the start of the swell of your ass. You suddenly wish you had cuter underpants on.
"This alright?"
"Yep."
Your eyes blow wide when he tucks it lightly in around your hips.
"Let's get started."
At the first touch of his hand on your spine, you twitch, your nervous body over stimulated by the situation alone. Joel's hands are off you completely, his voice concerned.
"Whoa, you okay?"
"Yeah sorry," you say with a breathless laugh. "Wasn't ready I guess."
Joel chuckles and it's a rich, delicious sound that makes your stomach flip.
"That's okay, shoulda gave warnin'. Startin now."
His hands alight to your midback pressing lightly. He does this down your spine to warm you up, he tells you. You don't care what he does. You'd happily become a human pretzel if it meant having Joel's hands on you.
The hands retreat and then there's the sound of lotion being squeezed and Joel rubbing his hands together. Those big, broad hands. You're so thankful he can't see how red your face is.
Joel begins between your scapula, his wide hands smoothing over your muscles with expert care. At first you're nervous when his hands touch places that have been overlooked for months by previous partners, but soon you allow your eyes to shut and your breathing to even out.
His hands go to your spine before Fanning out over your shoulder blades. The sensation is so fucking good, so tender. He rubs a knot there and you hiss with pleasure at the feeling of it being worked.
"Tell me if the pressure is too hard," he breathes.
"I actually like it hard."
The minute you say it you cringe. Why did that sound sexual? Because Joel is hot ? Because you're horny? Pamela's words float through your consciousness.
It's only weird if you make it weird.
Just relax. Ignore it. He's not saying anything. You try to pretend you didn't say something asinine and just close your eyes.
His oiled hands move down your spine, coming to press at your lower back, the problem area. Joel applies pressure gingerly before his thumbs begin to knead into the deep muscles there.
At first it hurts but you remain silent, needing it to continue. After the initial throbbing ebbs you relax into it, feeling the muscle relent under his talented fingers. The release feels so good that you actually sigh out loud.
"Ah, there we go," Joel purrs in a voice so husky you feel your panties physically dampen.
His hands move lower, fingers grazing just under the waistband of your panties as he massages your lower back, taking his time on the problem areas you mentioned.
It feels like heaven.
Somewhere around the midway mark you feel so relaxed that you actually drift off, carried away by Joel’s touch amongst the scent of sandalwood and the sound of flutes.
You shift awake when you hear Joel's raspy voice in your ear. You have no idea how much time has passed.
"Alright, gonna get you to turn over onto your back for me. I'll turn around."
You do as he says still partly drowsy, your whole body feeling warm and boneless. You roll over, sliding down the table a bit and tugging the blanket up until it covers your breasts. You secure it under your arms.
Your eyes crack open to see Joel turned away from you. His broad back is smooth under his shirt and from this angle you see his tight ass through his pants. He's like a Greek god in a white cotton t-shirt.
You hope you don't have ugly lines on your face from the hole but you accept that you probably do. Oh well. Not like Joel was gonna ask you out anyway. You close your eyes again.
"Okay. Ready."
You hear Joel place himself on the rolling stool. He slides behind you at the top of the massage table and you hold in a shudder as he moves your hair up out of his way, his fingertips grazing your neck. Immediately you feel your nipples tighten and you pray they can't be seen through the sheet.
His hands are oiled up and then move to your neck once more. His fingers glide along your collarbone before dragging over the muscles there. The sensation is incredible, the overlooked and overworked muscle celebration with the release of tension.
"Feels so nice," you mutter without thinking.
"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says and you hear the smile in it. You can feel the warm huff of his minty breath fall over your cheek.
You realize belatedly that his face must be near yours and you feel your heartbeat quicken. Your thighs press together tightly and you're shocked at how turned on you are. Joel's touch, this room, this comfort has all conspired to get you to the edge of arousal.
His wide hands squeeze your neck muscles, gently vibrating. Something releases and your head swims warmly.
You wriggle slightly and Joel shifts his hands to the back of your skull. His thumbs press and begin to circle there, digging pleasantly.
"Your form says you get headaches."
"Mhmmm. Sometimes."
"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."
"Sure."
"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," he tells you, his voice tinged with pride. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”
You don't know how to tell him that his patients probably just like anything he does because he's the most beautiful man you've seen outside a movie screen.
When his thumbs get to your temples you should have told him to stop. Because the thudding between your legs is increasing. With every swipe you feel your core tightening.
Calm down. Calm down.
His thumbs retreat and you feel a stab of relief go through you. That is until his fingers slide up the back of your neck through your hair...
And he tugs.
A simple motion, just a grab of your hair in his fists and a gentle tug to release the tension in your skull. Except it releases the tension.... Everywhere.
Pleasure overwhelms you, warm and flooding your entire body like sweet golden light. Your hands grip the sheets as your back arches unexpectedly, hips digging back against the table.
The sound of your shuddered cry hits the air sharply, like cool water thrown over the both of you.
And then silence.
//////
You're tense.
That much was clear when Joel saw you in the waiting room. When he touched your tight back and saw the pinched way your face looked in the mirror.
He was determined to get you to relax. To give you what he knew you needed: release from pain. He'd read your intake form, saw where the pain was, saw you were getting shitty sleep, the headaches. It makes sense that you were wound up.
And you'd nearly jolted off the table at his first touch of you. He hadn't been expecting that reaction. You were like a skittish horse, wild and needing desperately to be tamed.
And soon enough you'd calmed under his light touches. And now you seem pretty relaxed as the massage continues, Joel smiles when he thinks he hears you snoring quietly. He works away at the stubborn knots in your back.
He moves down your arm, hearing you give soft little whimpers in your sleep and noting when he gets to your hand that there's no wedding band there. He doesn't understand why that sticks out to him but it does. He works down your other arm doing the same.
He lets a hand drift along your spine, watching as you curve up for him like a cat. It's hypnotizing how his little grazes affect you so deeply. His eyes drift to the clock in the corner. Twenty minutes left.
His mouth goes to your ear.
"Alright, gonna get you to turn over for me. I'll turn around."
He turns, listening to the rustling sheets as you scoot down the table a bit, pulling the sheets up over you.
"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says with a smile.
Everything is going well; you're going boneless in his hands again. So pliant and willing. Joel finds deep satisfaction in this. Like he's won your body over somehow, told it there's no reason for fear. He thinks it’s because you seemed so unimpressed with him at first, so dismissive. You wouldn’t even shake his hand. But now you seem like you’ve warmed up to him and this pleases him.
He sees the crease between your brows and smoothes over it with his thumb. He smiles when it disappears under his touch.
"Your form says you get headaches," he says remembering what he read earlier.
"Mhmmm. Sometimes."
"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."
"Sure."
"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," Joel says, proudly. He's never heard a bad word about his head massages. Hell, some people come in just for that. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”
His thumbs move to your temple and that's when he first notices the shifting of your thighs. He assumes it's an itch and ignores it. Looking back that should have been his first indication.
When your breathing began to pick up he assumed he was just hitting a good spot. Mistake number two.
One of Joel's favorite things about massage is that as well as healing it can bring deep relaxation and even pleasure. When he gathers the hair at the back of your neck and tugs he does so in the hopes that it will work on releasing some of that headache tension you were talking about.
And then Joel hears it.
The shuddering gasp accompanied by the arch of your spine and twitch of your lower half. He sees your hands curl into the sheet on either side of you. If he'd been working anywhere near your lower back he would have brushed it off as a sore muscle. But as it is he knows what just happened.
You just came.
He sees it in the shuddering intake of breath you take now, the flush over your cheeks and what he can see of your chest. And the way your legs relax under the sheet.
It's not the first time a woman or man has been aroused on his table. He's had his fair share of tented blankets with the men and squirming women biting their bottom lips. The only difference is he's never made one come on his table before.
And they've never made him hard.
His cock is lengthening in his pants and he's so thankful that your eyes are closed. He momentarily panics, this has never happened before and the professionalism he strives for is rapidly escaping him.
He can see your face is screwed up in anxiety and a wave of pity mixed with shame goes through him. He knows what happened with you was completely involuntary.
And you were doing so well right before, totally limp in his grasp. You were relaxed and he'd given that to you but now you're entire body is turning in on itself, tight. All the good work you both did today leaving.
Just get over it. Do your job.
Joel's a professional and he knows how to handle these situations. The best course of action is to pretend like nothing is wrong.
"The pressure okay?"
"Yep," you say tightly, your entire body tensing up under his hands. He moves his hands back to your neck and rubs gently.
"Just relax," he whispers huskily. "We're finishing up."
This seems to relax you more, the thought that soon you'll be gone from this table.
He needs you gone from the table, from the room, from his practice. The more he touches you and looks at you, knowing how naked you are under that sheet, the more he feels that coiled sensation in his belly. He tries to ignore that ache in his cock. But the more he tries to ignore it the more it seems to pulse.
Your head shifts slightly, showing him more of your neck and suddenly he can't help himself. His face drifts slowly towards it, so close he can smell your perfume or your shampoo or lotion. Whatever it is, it’s fucking delicious. It makes him want to run his tongue along your neck.
His eyes drift to your ear with its simple stud and Joel knows he’s in trouble because your fucking ear is turning him on. He clears his throat, voice rumbling from the base of his chest.
"Need it harder?"
He watches you shiver, sees the goosebumps rise all along your body and now he notices the tiny buds of your nipples through the top sheet. He holds in a growl as you give a small whimper.
"Uh... Yes, thank you."
Your breathy voice is so tentative and he loathes that it makes his cock twitch. He glances down to see his erection tents his pants almost comically now.
That's enough. This is a fucking patient, Miller.
He briefly removes his hands from you and stands, planning on flipping his aching cock up in the waistband of his boxers.
There's a sharp ring from inside your purse across the room that startles you both.
"Oh, shit, sorry," you say automatically lifting your head from the table and opening your eyes. "I thought I turned the ringer off-"
You've stopped talking and Joel realizes it's because his hard cock is almost at your eye level and you're staring directly at it. Joel's hands are hung at his sides, uselessly.
Your eyes drag to his, wide and unreadable and they stay fixed there for what feels like forever. The sound of the phone ringing grows dim and then finally silences.
He's going to be fucking arrested. You're going to leave a scathing review on Google. You're going to start screaming any second.
Joel feels like his entire world is being tilted on its axis the more your eyes drift between him and his still hard cock.
"I've... I don't..... I've never," Joel fumbles, trying to come up with the right words. "No ones ... No patients ever done this before... To me, I mean."
You flush so prettily at that, your smile is shy and crooked. You look at the table, embarrassed before your face is turned up to face him again.
"Would you..." You trail off licking your lips nervously. Joel feels his cock pulsing when you do. "Would it be okay if... If I.. Or you...?"
Joel watches your fingers reaching for his zipper before stopping, waiting for him to give the go ahead.
I should leave. Tell her it's inappropriate and go.
Joel ignores this thought entirely, instead he nods in understanding as he pops open the top button of his pants and slides the zipper down the teeth. Your eyes watch its descent with eager anticipation.
His cock is stiff in his boxers and he shyly covers the thick shaft and head poking aggressively from the slit in the middle. He expects that this will turn you off, his obvious arousal. But your eyes have grown glazed, mouth parted.
"Can I…touch?"
Joel sees your hand going towards the hand covering his cock. He swallows nervously. This is crossing all ethical and moral boundaries.
And yet ...
Joel nods, dropping his hand and you hesitate for a only a moment before your eyes drift to the belt at his hip. He realizes you've spotted the lotion bottle inside. Joel says nothing as you pump a few dabs of the massage oil into your palm before rubbing your hands together.
He feels his heart begin to hammer as your hand reaches between the two of you to grip the head of his cock lightly. Barely a touch and Joel feels a groan pulled from his chest.
His gaze is on your hand, watching as you begin to stroke, squeezing along the head. The lotion makes your hand glide perfectly, your grip strong and tight.
He lets his eyes drift over to your face and a new surge of arousal goes through him. Your face is fixed in concentration, cheeks flushed so fucking pretty. You give a twist of your wrist that has Joel's legs about to buckle.
"Oh fuck," Joel moans, head tilting forward. "So....Tha- that's so fucking good, baby."
///
Baby.
Your thighs press together almost painfully at his husky voice calling you that.
Baby.
You cannot believe what's happening. An hour ago you were terrified to have a stranger touch you and now you're jerking off your masseur's deliciously thick cock as he calls you baby.
He's so beautiful, eyes closed, hands braced against the table as you stroke him. He thrusts shallowly into your hand, wanting you to take the lead.
Everything about him is sexy to you. His tall frame arching over the table for you, the way you can see his ass clench in his pants when he moves against your palm. The little groans you're pulling from him, sailing past his teeth almost shyly.
Your own breathing is staggered because you can't stop looking at his mouth. It's parted, his breath coming out in long shudders. You want to kiss him so fucking badly but you're lying back on the table and he's standing. You wish you could see more of him, not just the cock pulled from the slit of his boxers.
"I don't deserve this," Joel groans, his shoulders rolling as he arches into your pumping hand.
"You do. You made me feel so good," you say softly. "I just wanna do the same."
His dark eyes open, glazed and fixed on you. His eyes dart everywhere, from your eyes to your mouth to your eyes and back down to your mouth.
You flinch when you feel his fingers slip under the sheet and begin to trail along your inner thigh.
"Wanna do it again," he rumbles. "Properly if that's okay."
You can only breathe shallowly as you force a nod. It's barely more than a twitch but it's all he needs. His fingers slide between your thighs, dancing there. He groans as he does this, your hand working him well.
He licks his lower lip, eyes never leaving your face as his fingers glide over your clothed pussy. You instinctively tilting into his touch, cheeks flaming. Joel runs a forefinger between your slit, feeling the soaking fabric of your panties there. You give a whimper as his eyelids shutter.
"I made you this wet?"
His voice is low, awed.
Again you give the smallest nod, feeling warm when Joel smiles at you. He looks so pleased with himself.
You dip your eyes down your body, unable to see anything other than movement of his hand under the sheet. For some reason that makes it even hotter.
Your eyes go back to his face just in time for his finger to slip under your panties and begin to tease your entrance. At this your body jerks and the sheet falls slightly, showing you left breast and very erect nipple. You watch his eyes greedily drink in the sight.
"Goddam."
Joel's hips begin to stutter and you feel his hand come to rest overtop yours. His hand is large and warm and he holds you gently, stilling your movements.
"Slower," he tells you in a rasp. "Want us to get there together."
Fuck. Could this guy get any sexier?
"Okay."
At this his finger enters you, joined quickly by a second at your whispered insistence. You struggle to maintain a slow speed over his slippery cock because of it. He begins to slowly work his way deep, curling delicately. You give a shuddering inhale, eyes at half mast.
"You want it harder?" Joel murmurs and from your position you can see his eyes are nearly black with desire as he looks down at your face. "Seem to remember you sayin' that's how you liked it."
You can only whimper as you nod. His palm grinds against your clit sending sparks of fire up your body.
"F-uuck!"
Your hand is slick with oil and you can hear your dual breathing and the wet sound of your hand working his cock mixing with the harmonious strings and wood flutes being played over the speaker.
You don't even know you're whining until Joel's free hand presses a finger to your lips, gently shushing you.
"They're gonna hear us," he tells you, voice rough and pupils dilated so much his eyes look black. You nod and he removes his finger from against your lips, much to your dismay.
Joel watches as your eyes roll back when he begins to move his fingers within you in earnest. Hitting deep and then retreating, pulsing there, curling and rubbing perfectly. Your hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes along his cock and Joel's eyes go from his cock to the blanket where his fingers work you so well.
Your eyes travel to where your hand works him. Holding him twitching in your palm, watching the head weep with precome makes you feel powerful. Taking down this broad, masculine form with no more than gentle tugs to his cock.
Joel-" you whisper, trying to be quiet but you're struggling. It feels so good. He feels so good. His eyes move to your face, his neck and cheeks flushed.
"Gonna come for me right here," Joel tells you in that low, syrupy way he speaks. The one that says relax, tell me if it's too hard. "Aren't you?"
"Y-yes," you huff, your entire body going rigid. "Yes, gonna come for you, Joel."
Joel feels his stomach tighten at the way you whimper his name. Your back arches, your hand is a blur along his cock. And then suddenly his fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside, the one that has everything in your body coming to life and your eyes roll back.
"Oh there she goes," Joel marvels. "There she fuckin' goes."
Joel's words curl down your body like his hands have done the last hour. They smooth and they press and they make you feel fucking amazing.
"Gonna... " is all you can get before your pleasure overtakes you. You’re body jolts once more and your head slopes back as you snap your free hand over your mouth to keep your moans contained.
"Uh huh, yeah baby, just like that," Joel urges you in heady whispers as you begin to climax. "You look so fucking good coming for me lik-- So fuck... Oh fuck... Makin' me-"
Joel slaps his free hand over his mouth seconds after over you. You let out a ragged moan at precisely the same time, the two of you climaxing with your hands over your mouths so as not to be heard.
His fingers work within you, pumping even as Joel releases himself in thick spurts over your stuttering hand. You soak his fingers under the sheet, body twisting with greedy desire as he stares at your face.
The soft glow of sex fades quickly when the gentle chime of Joel's phone goes off seconds later. Suddenly reality makes itself known, cold and unpleasant as Joel’s cock grows limp in your hand.
What the fuck just happened?
Joel reaches behind him to the shelf and turns back, taking your hand in his and wiping his spend from your palm, between your knuckles, down your wrist. He does this with a red face, not once looking at you. That's for the best because you're so mortified you want to shrivel up under the blanket.
When he's finished he runs a thumb over your knuckles, eyes darting to your face briefly before he drops your hand. He turns from you and tidies himself up, tucking himself away back in his boxers and zipping up his pants.
"That's uh... That's all we have time for today," Joel croaks from over his shoulder.
"Thanks," you say breathily, trying to regain your composure. You stare at his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The firm ass that you want to reach out a grab.
"How do you feel?"
He still hasn't turned around and you wonder what he's thinking. His eyes are so expressive and to have them hidden from you seems a shame because you can't gauge how he feels about what just happened.
"Uh ... Really good... You're very... Good."
At this Joel swallows and you feel like you're face must be on fire. You want to say something, anything to end this awkward exchange but Joel is already striding to the door.
"I'll leave you to get dressed, then."
The door giving a snick closed behind him leaving you to shakily get up from the table. You don't even look to see the evidence of your arousal; you just bunch the sheets up in a pile with shame creeping down your neck.
You don't even know if Joel is married or dating. Just because you're not doesn't mean he doesn't have a very fulfilling relationship outside these four walls. Guilt now takes you over to go along with the shame, like longtime friends holding hands and skipping.
The worst part of all of this was how much you liked it. The needing to be quiet, the rush of doing something forbidden, the feeling of his cock growing harder and harder in your grip. Making a man like that groan and moan for you. You wish you'd tasted him, even just a lick. You also wish he'd talked more. That deep voice of his is more potent than any aphrodisiac you know of.
What the fuck is wrong with me? This is a business. I just jerked a stranger off! This shouldn't turn me on.
You pull on your clothes in haste, tugging the purse over your shoulder and jerking open the door in a rush to leave. To your horror Joel stands just outside in the hallway, eyes on the ground. He looks like an admonished schoolboy forced to make an apology and the sight of it makes you wince.
"How're-"
You don't wait for him to finish the sentence. You want to get away from this place as soon as possible. You give a mumbling goodbye and move past him out the door, just as quiet and detached as when he first met you.
You burst into the waiting room, the door main closing behind you. It's empty save for the receptionist who looks over at you in surprise.
"I'm just here to pay," you tell her, hoping she can't see the shame in your eyes. You go to bring out your wallet from your purse.
"It's already been paid," The receptionist says cheerfully typing on her laptop.
Pam. Of course you're roommate paid for it. You flush as you consider what she actually paid for.
"Would you like to make another appointment?" The receptionist asks cheerfully. "Joel's schedule tends to fill up fast."
You swallow, fingers hovering over the counter. The question is so simple but the answer is anything but obvious.
Yes or No?
#RMT!Joel#Palpation#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#smut#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#fanfic#joel miller#fanfiction#soft!joel miller#soft!joel
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Scar does not lay down and die. He’s fought too hard to go out like that.
It’s a strange feeling, to know that he’s in full control of when he dies. No one chasing him down, no ticking clock, no curses. Sure, he doesn’t have regen, but he has a full row of hearts—a whole life ahead of him that he can spend in Sunflower Valley.
He doesn’t remember until he arrives that there’s nothing for him there. It’s about fifty percent craters. Some of them are blackened by the wither, and others by gunpowder. Despite it all, though, there are still sunflowers. Not many, but they’re facing his way when arrives, as if trying to be the welcoming party he never had. Scar sits down at the edge of one of the craters and swings his feet back and forth over the drop. It’s not deep enough to kill him, hardly even deep enough to take a heart off of him. The ash settled at the bottom is picked up by the wind, blowing into Scar’s boots and hair. He doesn’t wipe it out. It’s his only reminder that he wasn’t always alone in this world.
Across the crater, the air shimmers purple. Before Scar can figure out what it is, the color coalesces into a ghostly figure with a faint halo that shines just like the sun. Grian smiles at him wanly and holds out a bouquet of poppies and lilacs.
“You’ve won, Scar,” he says. “It’s time to go.”
“But I’m not ready yet,” he objects.
“He didn’t get me any flowers,” Scott mutters as he sits down beside him, transparent and crowned with a dozen tiny stars. “Trust me, you’re ready. You’ve won. There’s nothing left.”
“Well, I never had much anyway,” Scar says coolly. “Can’t say this feels too different.”
“I know.” Pearl’s voice comes from his other side along with the soft glow of the moon, and his heart aches, unwilling to turn toward her. “I know, but the game’s over, Scar. You did well.”
He wants to tell her sorry, but that would be disingenuous. He wouldn’t change a thing about that fight—the only thing he regrets is that it had to be her.
“More than well, I’d say.” Martyn takes shape in the center of the crater, his coral crown glittering the angry red of Mars. “I’m loving the trend of villainous winners we’ve got going here. Who do you think’s gonna be next? Joel? Gem?”
“Maybe we’re due for a more heartfelt finale,” Scott says, sending a sidelong glance Scar’s way. “No offense.”
“Didn’t you win through a battle royale?” he retorts.
“Didn’t we all?” Grian sighs. “It’s just the way of the game. Killing people. It’s a bit hard to get a heroic winner out of that.”
Scar stares at his feet. “I thought I’d feel more relieved,” he admits. “Like I’d- like I’d, y’know, won something. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, it’s all just kinda…”
“Empty?” Grian fills in for him.
“Disappointing?” Scott suggests.
“Sad?” Pearl says.
Martyn kicks a rock. “Fleeting?”
“One of those things,” Scar sighs. “So… now what?”
“I already told you,” Grian huffs, tired but good-natured. “It’s time to go.”
“Die, you mean,” Scar says. “It’s time for me to die.”
Martyn draws an axe that looks far more corporeal than the rest of him. “It’s my turn to take you out,” he tells him. “I was planning on a nice quick beheading, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Scar stammers, scrambling backward. “I don’t get to choose how I go?”
“Well, sort of,” Grian explains. “You’ve won. The only thing that can take you out now is another winner.”
“Pearl zapped me when my time was up,” Martyn says. “Didn’t hurt for more than a second.”
“And what if I don’t let you?” Scar asks.
Scott puts a hand on his shoulder, but it goes right through. “There’s no way around this, Scar.”
“Martyn has to kill you,” Pearl reiterates. “It’s not up to him, or us, or you. No one can move on until you’re gone.”
“Says who?”
Grian gestures broadly at the horizon. “Who do you think?”
The Secretkeeper looms in the distance, a dark sky overhead. It’s watching him. Scar knows it is. It’s waiting, impatient as ever, for its final task to be completed.
Martyn hefts his axe over his shoulder. The move should be threatening, but there’s no malice in it. His hand sits firmly on the handle, white-knuckled and duty-bound, but the rest of him is relaxed. He doesn’t want this to be a fight.
“I guess everyone’s waiting on me, huh?” Scar says. “Let’s get this over with.”
He walks up to Martyn and kneels, removing his hood to expose the back of his neck. He feels the cold edge of the axe blade placed against it and screws his eyes shut.
“Any last words?” Martyn asks.
“I’m taking away all your reputation points for this.”
He laughs, genuine and nostalgic. “Fair enough.”
The axe lifts, and a breeze ruffles Scar’s hair as it comes back down on his neck.
There’s a searing flash of pain, and then nothing. His eyes stay closed, staring at the darkness.
“Scar,” Grian says, his voice closer than before. “Scar, it’s done.”
He blinks warily, taking a moment to process the view he sees. The rest of the world now has the shimmering transparency of the ghosts, while the other winners are now solid and real in front of him. Grian is still holding the bouquet—when he extends it to Scar, it changes shape, twisting into a flower crown.
“Wait,” Pearl says. “One last thing.” She waves her hand and two glowing sunflowers wrap themselves into the wreath, blooming side by side. “There.”
Grian steps forward, right in front of Scar, who’s still kneeling in the center of the crater. “Congratulations, Scar,” he says. “You won.”
The crown is a perfect fit.
#couldn't just write nothing about scar's win so here have this#the last winner has to kill the most recent and there's technically nothing in canon that says I'm wrong so#clutching this headcanon forever#goodtimeswithscar#secret life#slsmp spoilers#trafficblr#relevant rainy things
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You said you’d write for any slasher (and also smut) so I wasn’t sure if you’d take this req but I’ll ask anyways — could u write something for Norman Bates (Psycho 1960, NOT Bates Motel) maybe getting overstimulated by a pushy male guest at the motel, or otherwise getting super flustered by foreplay/during? 💕
Don’t we all just think that he’s probably a virgin… oh it’s just me. 😭 Probably the filthiest thing I wrote in a while.
Also I added a lil breeding kink for a good friend of mine.
Warnings! SMUT, Detailed smut, virgin Norman, makeout, flirting, dom reader, teasing, grinding, humping, cumming inside boxers (Norman), controlling reader, stripping, rough sex, praise kink, handjob. Breeding kink.
NORMAN BATES X PUSHY DOM MALE READER
Norman watched through the window inside his mothers house as he watched a car pull into the parking lot. Norman was confused because it was early in the morning and people were already coming.
Most people who came to the motel were either lost or just needed to stop to use the bathroom.
With curiosity in Norman’s eyes he watched a man step out of the car. A light gasp escaped Norman’s lips as he stared at the man. The man was undoubtedly attractive and taller than Norman. Even from all the way back here Norman felt a bit nervous. In Norman’s opinion the man looked like he belonged in a movie or magazine.
Norman felt his heart ache as the man went to the passenger seat opening it and helping a woman step out the car.
The black haired male hurriedly leaves the house to go greet the guest.
Just in time Norman goes to the hotel reception area waiting for the two people comes inside, but is only greeted by the male.
“Hi good morning!” Norman greets holding his hand out for the male. The male takes the hand and shakes it firmly.
“Good morning.” The male responds back, almost making Norman weak.
“U-uh are you planning to stay the night?” Norman asks taking the check in sheet handing it to the male.
“Yes. My friend and I are planning to stay three nights. So we need two separate rooms.” The male says more like ordering Norman. The male takes the sheet from Norman and signs his name and his friend's name as well.
"Y/n L/n..."
Norman says to himself looking at the guest.
Before Norman could ask Y/n to pay the guest reaches in his pocket taking a fifty dollar bill slapping it on the counter saying "Keep the change."
Norman was a bit intimidated by the dominant male, but none of the less still made his heart skip beats. Norman puts the money inside the register and picks up the keys on the rack handing it to Y/n.
"Y-your room is number one. And your friend is number six." Norman handed both keys to the male with in mind that he separated them apart on purpose.
Y/n took them and stuffed them inside his pocket before saying "You know Bates, people in town call you a psycho or sometimes insane."
"Y-you don't actually b-believe those stupid rumors." Norman stutters out looking at Y/n.
"Not at the moment, i'll have to see it to believe it." Y/n answered with a smirk.
Before Norman could say anything more Y/n leaves going back outside. Norman thinks for a second before rushing outside.
"Please let me collect your bags!" Norman offers to Y/n.
Y/n looks at Norman before letting out a stiff laugh. "Help the lady with her bags not me." Y/n takes his own bags from the car and taking them into his motel room.
Norman watches Y/n leave in a trance as the woman stares at him knowingly.
The woman clears her throat catching Norman's attention.
"Oh- i'm sorry l-let me help you with that!" Norman blurts out taking the bags from her hands and walking to her motel room.
TIMESKIP
Norman was at the motel counter doing whatever minding his own thing as his mother rambled in his head about how he should "marry" Y/n.
"Yes mother, I know he'll be a fine husband for me..." Norman mutters out not noticing the door open.
"Yes I know... Do you really think he likes me?" As Norman talked with his mother the said man he is talking about enters the room holding two cups of coffee.
"Maybe you are insane." Y/n's voice rings out leaning against the wall. With the sudden voice in the room Norman snaps out of his thoughts and looks at Y/n with a nervous expression.
"N-no its just that uhm I--" Norman tries to say before getting cut off by Y/n.
"Never mind that. Come join me in my room for coffee and food." Y/n says almost ordering Norman. Before Norman could argue back about how he shouldn't, Y/n already opened the door waiting for Norman to follow.
"Hurry up before I change my mind." Y/n says with a light laugh escaping his lips as he watch Norman scurry from the counter leaving the room and to Y/n's room.
TIMESKIP
Norman and Y/n sat on the side of the bed talking and eating. They well mostly Y/n talked about his life and where he's going after he leaves the motel.
During the period of the two with each other Y/n kept getting more and more comfortable with the man. Even so that Y/n took off his shirt and pants only leaving him in his boxers as he drank his coffee.
Which shocked and flustered the hell out of Norman.
Anyone could have been barging in the room at the moment and getting the totally wrong idea. That took Norman even by more surprise from Y/n not caring what others would have thought.
Y/n laid his body on the headboard telling Norman a story about his job. As Y/n talked and talked Norman eyes trails away from Y/n’s own looking over his exposed chest and abs.
Norman eyes looks lower staring at the outline of Y/n’s soft cock. Norman could his mouth begin to water and his mind begin to daydream.
"And the idiot comes up to me and asks--- Norman. Are you even listening?" Y/n asks snapping Norman from his day dreaming.
"S-sorry uhm... You w-were saying?"
"You're a real perv you know that. Staring so deeply at my body." Y/n giggles out before reaching his hand out hooking his finger under his chin.
"What were you thinking about and be honest." Y/n says pulling Norman closer to him. Norman opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Y/n lets out a light chuckle before saying "I don't mind that you're looking at my body. Do you want a closer look?" Y/n says teasing Norman before setting his coffee cup on the night stand.
Norman's face was hot and flustered eyes averting from Y/n's own.
The two were face to face staring at each other so intimately. Norman looks down at Y/n's lips before turning away blushing madly.
Y/n let out a chuckle before using his free hand to cup Norman's cheek moving his head back it to his dierction.
Y/n leans in closing the distance between them kissing Norman deeply. Norman didn't know how to react with his eyes wide as Y/n kissed him. The kiss was messy because Norman didn't know how to properly kiss.
Y/n pulled away from the kiss smirking at Norman. "Y-y-you kissed me" Norman stutters out.
Y/n let out a light chuckle before moving his hand away from Norman’s cheek and instead placing it on his inner thigh. “Can I kiss you again?” Y/n ask’s already knowing his answer.
Norman weakly shakes his head yes.
Leaning back in Y/n kisses Norman with a bit more passion than the last one. Norman awkwardly kisses back pressing his lips onto Y/n.
After a while Y/n pulls back, but Norman didn’t want to end the kiss moving his face towards Y/n not trying to break the kiss.
“Easy tiger.” Y/n teases using his free hand to pull Norman away.
“D-did I do so-something wrong?” Norman questions.
“No baby… It’s just that I want to do other stuff than just kissing. Don’t get me wrong I love the kissing, but I want you to feel good in other ways than just kissing.” Y/n says with a trusting smile.
Norman feels flustered and shy as Y/n’s hands leaves his face and to his neck trailing down. Y/n’s hands finds the collar of the button shirt Norman wore and tugged on it.
“Loose the shirt.” Y/n says as if he was ordering him to do it. Norman quickly obeys fumbling around with the shirt before taking the shirt off pulling it off his shoulders.
“Mind taking off your pants now? Or do I have to do it myself.” Y/n teases with a taunting smirk. Nervously Norman takes off his pants and shoes leaving himself in his underwear just like the man beside him.
“Good job.” Y/n says shortly before moving his hands down until he reached Norman’s waist. Y/n brought his other hand forward taking the other side of Norman’s waist. In one motion Y/n brings Norman into his lap.
Norman blushes brightly at Y/n straight forward behavior. Y/n kisses the side of Norman’s jaw as Norman moves both of his hands to either side of Y/n’s shoulders. Y/n littered kisses across Norman’s jaw and to his neck. Y/n kisses his neck softly and left hickeys.
“Oh~ Y-Y/n!” Norman quietly moans out feeling Y/n start to move under him grinding onto him the male pulls away for a while to look at Norman. “Move your hips back and forth while sinking down on my lap.” Y/n instructs.
The black haired male thought for a few seconds before doing what he was told to do. Norman’s cock started to grow hard as soft moans escaped his lips. Soon enough Norman’s cock bulged through his underwear leaving a tent.
Suddenly Y/n flipped both of over. Norman laid on the bed on his back with his legs spread open as well the rest of his body full in display. As for Y/n he toward over him in between his legs.
Norman still gripped onto Y/n’s shoulders for dear life as Y/n grind into him. Y/n used one of his hands to go inside Norman’s boxer grabbing onto his hard cock roughly jerking him off. Norman moaned loudly throwing his head back into the pillows from the feeling of Y/n’s hand wrapped around his cock.
Y/n pumped Norman’s cock fast then suddenly out of no where goes to a slow and agonizing pace.
Norman was a mess already just from grinding and kissing. Norman’s cock leaked precum as Y/n toyed with his cock. Tears threaten to fall from Norman’s glossy eyes.
Suddenly a long moan falls from Norman’s mouth as his body trembled as he reaches a surprisingly orgasm. Norman came inside his boxers as he covered his mouth to muffle the noises.
Y/n gave Norman a surprised look before pulling off Norman’s now dirty boxers leaving him bare naked.
For a minute Y/n takes in the full sight of Norman and his whole. Y/n used some of the cum that was on his hand from earlier as lube as he circles his fingers around Norman’s hole.
Y/n slowly moves a finger inside Norman, but Norman doesn’t even realize since his mind is all fuzzy from his intense orgasm. Y/n takes the opportunity to finger Norman curving his fingers inside of Norman searching for his prostate.
Norman’s body felt weak as he moaned endlessly. Y/n adds another finger inside of him letting him get comfortable first before moving.
The black haired male breathes heavy as Y/n fingers starts to move again. Y/n’s fingers spread Norman scissoring him open. Norman didn’t know what to do or even to think.
After a few more minutes Y/n takes his fingers out and pulls down his underwear before putting both of his hands on Norman’s thighs raising them up.
Norman shyly looked down to see why Y/n pulled his fingers out.
“W-why did yo—“ Norman cuts himself off as a loud gasp escapes his lips. Norman stares at Y/n’s hard cock lining to his hole.
“It’s n—-not gonna fit! I-I never done anything like this before!” Norman blurts out with a stutter as the head of Y/n’s cock rubs against his hole.
Y/n ignores his words as he slowly moves inside gripping on the inside of Norman’s thighs as he moves. Norman moaned and whimper uncomfortably as he not used to something being inside him that way let alone a dick.
Moving deeper and deeper Y/n slowly thrust his cock inside him.
In one motion Y/n thrust deeply inside Norman moving his full cock inside him. Norman covered his mouth as a loud muffled moan escapes his lips.
Y/n pulls out just to thrust his full cock back inside of Norman.
Norman’s eyes begin to water as Y/n pulls out and thrust his cock back inside repeatedly.
Soon enough Norman’s moans went from uncomfortable to pleasure real quick. Norman moaned loudly as Y/n slowly fucked him.
Suddenly Y/n’s slow pace quickly turned fast and rough. Y/n drilled his cock deep inside Norman’s hole abusing it.
Norman’s hands flared around searching for anything that he could hold onto. His hands found the sheets below them a gripped onto them for support. Y/n’s cock rammed in and out of Norman’s hole using him as if he was a toy.
Y/n moved Norman’s legs onto his shoulders and right after he moved his hands to Norman’s hips fucking deep inside of him.
Norman’s face became wet as tears fall from his eyes and drool from his mouth that was hanged open.
“Please breed me! I beg you to give me your kids! Please sir I’ll do a-anything just me pregnant please!” Norman begs out.
Y/n’s cock made Norman overstimulated and dumb as he moaned out words that didn’t form correctly.
The head of Y/n’s cock grazing Norman’s prostate with every thrust causing the man under him to moan and gasp uncontrollably.
The sounds of the bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly and skin slapping against each other made the room loud and if any people were outside they could have heard everything that was going on.
“Sir! Oh~ my god please s-slow down!” Norman moaned out finally his sentence forming.
Y/n looks down at him with a evil smirk. Doing the complete opposite Y/n moves even faster with his cock hitting Norman’s prostate with every thrust.
The knot in Norman’s stomach tightens as his cock twitches as of it was gonna explode.
Y/n grips on Norman’s waist most likely bruising it. With loud moans Norman shoots his second load cumming all over his chest and stomach.
Norman’s body becomes even more sensitive as he orgasms. Y/n doesn’t stops his movements for even a second as he runts inside Norman searching for his own orgasm.
Y/n thrust faster as he hunts down his pleasure. Norman cried and moaned begging for Y/n to slow down, but the male doesn’t even change his rough fast pace.
“Can I cum inside you?” Y/n asks as he pounds deeply inside Norman.
“Y-yes! Please! Breed me! I want to have your kids please breed me!” Norman blurts out feeling his heart pound in his chest at the thought of having kids.
With every thrust Norman begged to become pregnant begging to have Y/n’s kids deep inside him.
Soon enough Y/n reached his orgasm cumming deep inside Norman painting his insides white. Y/n’s thrust started to slow down as he cums deep inside.
Norman felt like that he was in heaven feeling full of Y/n’s cum deep inside him. After they both calmed down from their highs Y/n pulled out laying down beside Norman.
“Are you alright?” Y/n asks using his hand to move strings of hair out of Norman’s face.
“Y-yes sir. I’m alright.” Norman stutters out completely out of breath.
Y/n moved his arm around Norman’s shoulders moving him close. Using his free hand Y/n opens the drawer of the night stand taking the box of cigarettes and a lighter.
Y/n takes a cigarette out wrapping his lips around it before putting the box back inside before taking the lighter and using it.
The hotel guest puts the lighter back where he found it and breathes in the smoke.
Norman looks up at Y/n in awe.
“Please don’t leave me!” Norman blurts out suddenly after realizing that he may never see Y/n again.
Y/n just stares at him as if Norman said the dumbest thing imaginable.
“I don’t plan on leaving you”
THE END
#norman bates x male reader#norman bates x reader#norman bates#pyscho#pyscho x male reader#slashers x male reader#slasher x male reader#x male reader#male reader#x dom male reader#x top male reader#the bear club
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