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august126 · 2 months

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Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college.

You're pretty sure your feelings aren't reciprocated... until one night that changes everything.

Warnings:Age Difference,Joel is 49 and Reader is 24,Oral Sex,Car Sex,semi-public sex (sort of),Flirting,Masturbation, and Dirty Talk

Words:12,334

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared.

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“Y’know, while ‘m happy that you’re livin’ with me again, I’d appreciate it f’ya started tryin’ to find a job that put that fancy degree t’use.” You peer over the top of the book you’d been reading at your dad, who’s taking up a spot at the end of your pool chair. His arms are crossed over his navy work shirt, drenched in sweat from working all day in the roiling heat customary of a Texas summer, and he’s watching you expectantly for an answer.

You set your book on your chest and sigh. It’s not that you aren’t thankful or don’t appreciate your dad allowing you to move back in with him after graduating from college a year ago. You fully understand how fortunate you are not to have to worry about paying rent; you’re also eternally grateful to your dad for hooking you up with a decent-paying job as a secretary at the contracting business his best friend owns. However, you were getting very, very tired of having this conversation.

“And you know that I am lookin’, but it’s silly for me t’apply for an entry-level position at a firm that’s gonna pay me less than what ‘m makin’ now.” Your dad rolls his eyes and grumbles something snippy under his breath, his go-to combo when he doesn’t like that you’re right. You pin him with a pointed stare. “Care to repeat that?”

“Said maybe I oughta tell Joel to dock your pay then,” your dad states, but any lingering irritation in his tone dissipates by the time he’s finished speaking. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his slight frown turns into a small, teasing smile.

“Somebody say my name?” Your gaze shifts from your dad to the sliding glass door behind him… or, rather, the man who opened it.

Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college. Currently, Joel Miller is the tanned, broad, tall man striding leisurely through your backyard, navigating around your pool, and stopping beside your father.

He slaps a hand on your dad’s shoulder in greeting and shoots you a bright grin as he coos, “Hey, lady.” Although Joel’s addressed you with the pet name for years, it never fails to cause an eruption of butterflies in your belly and a crimson blush to paint your cheeks.

“Hey, Joel,” you respond, trying to appear nonchalant even as you’re reining in your thundering heart and halting the pulse throbbing just south of your belly button. “Dad was jus’ sayin’ how he’s gonna ask ya to give me a pay cut.” Joel turns to your father, shaking his head.

“And risk losin’ my best employee? No can do, bud.” Even if he’s only joking, you preen at Joel’s praise. You cock an eyebrow at your dad, waiting for some sort of a comeback, but he only glares at you both before huffing.

“I don’t like when the two of ya gang up on me.” You giggle, and Joel shoots you a lazy wink and a warm, victorious smile. “Anyway,” your dad turns his attention back to Joel, “you said reservation’s at 6:45?”

“Uh-huh, so we oughta get our asses movin’,” Joel asserts, and your dad starts heading swiftly back toward your house. Joel’s eyes shift to you, still lounging on your purple pool chair, and he nudges your foot with the toe of his boot. “That means you too, lady.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Sarah’s birthday,” Joel answers incredulously, and a lightbulb goes off in your head; that’s why you felt like you were forgettin’ something all day. “Please tell me ya didn’t forget my daughter’s birthday. Your friend’s birthday,” Joel teases, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.

“ Of course I didn’t forget,” you lie, narrowing your eyes. Joel sees right through it.

“I bet. Now go get changed ‘fore ya make us late … unless you plan on wearin’ that to dinner.” The blush you just managed to school comes back in full force as he unabashedly rakes his eyes over your body, and only now do you realize how little the tiny black bikini you’re wearing covers.

Joel’s pretty brown eyes, usually so teeming with emotion, are utterly unreadable as you stand from your chair and begin heading inside. As you pass him, you mumble, “Don’t see why you’re complainin’.”

“Didn’t think I was.” You stumble a bit, glancing over your shoulder to find Joel’s gaze slowly sweeping down your body. When his stare lands on your ass, practically bare save for the minuscule cover your bikini bottom provides, his attention snaps back to your face, an impish grin on his lips that makes your skin flush.

“Fuck off, old man,” you reply cooly, flipping him off as you saunter inside; you can still feel Joel’s gaze on you as you ascend the stairs, and if that makes you sway your hips more than usual… well, who the fuck cares?

Once you’ve entered your bedroom and stripped off your bathing suit to assemble an outfit for dinner, your mind drifts into a space you’ve grown all too familiar with over the last five years.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand how wrong your crush on Joel Miller was. Ignoring the fact that he’s been your dad’s best friend for years, he’s also over two decades your senior and has a daughter only a few years younger than you. It’s disgusting, really, that you have even the slightest hint of attraction toward the man. And yet…

You really can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re no longer a college student parading around under the guise of adulthood. No, you’re a woman now, a woman with autonomy who is perfectly capable of making her own choices. If one of those choices is fucking her dad’s best friend, well, then so be it.

Even as you tell yourself this for the thousandth time, the sentiment feels weak. Sure, the opportunity to fuck Joel Miller is perfectly viable, in theory. However, so many things would have to go right for a thing like that to happen, and you are a notoriously unlucky person; quite frankly, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten lucky to the degree that you would need to for something like having sex with Joel to happen.

For one, no one would ever be able to find out. Your dad, Sarah, any of your nosey neighbors. Not to mention that the logistical feat of such a thing would be tricky. Where would you guys meet up? Not your house, not his house, and anything public like a bar would be far too risky. No, it would have to be a one-off deal, and you’re not so sure you’d be able to stop at just a single taste of Joel.

And that’s all assumin’ he’d even want me, you think as you comb through your closet looking for a summer dress right for the occasion. Joel Miller had never, never shown a flicker of interest in you. That display by the pool, him ogling your ass in your skimpy bikini? That was just him keeping up the incessant string of banter that passed between the two of you. Sure, he was older than you, but that didn’t matter when it came to the way he treated you, as if you were his friend.

Right, his friend.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. This line of thinking was an absolute rabbit hole, forcing you down, down, down until there was a headache ebbing at your temples and your veins were licking with equal parts frustration and lust.

Three quick knocks come on your door, and your head whips around at the sound, pulling you out of your Joel-induced stupor. “Hey, lady?”

Fuck. You stand in your closet, stunned into inaction like a deer in headlights as you realize the only thing separating you, butt-ass naked, and Joel is the mahogany of your closed bedroom door.

“Just checkin’ to see ‘f you’re ready yet. Sarah jus’ texted, said her and what’s-his-face are waitin’ at the restaurant.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You off-handedly wonder why you haven’t just slipped a dress on over your head on the off chance Joel decides to swing open your door, and you realize with a sick sort of excitement that you wouldn’t entirely mind Joel walking into your room at this very moment.

“Almost,” you call out, forcing your words to come out smooth as the image of Joel entering your room enters your mind unbidden; you imagine how his eyes would take in your naked form, how it’d take three short strides for him to reach you, how he might drop his head and lick one of your already hardened nipples into his warm, waiting mouth. You swallow thickly before calling out, “Just need another second s’all.”

A dull throb begins at the apex of your thighs as you picture the man on the other side of the wall putting his rough, work-worn hands all over your soft, supple skin. You wonder what his calloused touch would feel like against your flesh, if his honeyed skin would grow rosy under the thorough ministrations of your wet tongue, if his eyes would grow dark and a deep groan would drip from his lips as you closed your mouth around his-

“Sweetheart? Y’alright in there?” You think you mumble an airy affirmation as you mindlessly trace your fingers along your collarbone, imagining that they’re longer, thicker, belonging to another individual entirely. Any semblance of rationality escapes you as your other hand creeps down the smooth skin of your belly, and you cup your sex with a groan you’re barely able to muffle. You’re so outside of yourself, caught up in the slow path your fingers are tracing along your body, that you don’t notice the doorknob begin to turn.

Only when your door starts to lurch open do you fall back into your body from where you were floating a few seconds earlier. Your eyes blow wide, a strangled cry of surprise and horror falling from your mouth as you realize the precarious situation you’re about to be thrust into. “WAIT.”

The slow sway of your door opening halts immediately, and you let out a breath, spinning on your heel to face your closet. “I- ‘m jus’ comin’ in t’make sure you’re alright.” You hastily decide on a sage green strapless dress, something you can slip into quickly and inconspicuously, and rip the silk garment from its hanger.

“Yeah, no, ‘m good, Joel. Great, I’m great, jus’… yeah, gimme a sec.” You throw the dress on, its hem falling to your mid-thigh as you grab a pair of strappy sandals from the bottom of your closet and slip one on, hopping into the other as you approach your door.

“Y’sure, baby? Ya sound-” You slip your shoe on and grab the door handle in one movement, opening it fully to give you an unobstructed view of the man you’d just been on the verge of touching yourself to. Wouldn’t be the first time, you think to yourself unhelpfully.

He’s looking down at you, concern and curiosity bubbling in his gaze, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “See? ‘m fine, all good. Jus’ needed a minute.” Joel’s eyes blaze a lackadaisical trail over your body, and you swear you can feel him cataloging each inch of bare skin you have on display. He reaches out, plucking one of the flimsy green spaghetti straps between his thick fingers before letting it go to snap back against your shoulder. You stifle a gasp, and he brushes the hair careening down your chest back over your shoulder.

“This is pretty,” he says, voice low and velvety, and you can feel your pussy beginning to grow wet at his praise. He bends down until his mouth hovers just next to your ear, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him: musky cologne and citrusy body wash and something unidentifiable yet so undoubtedly Joel. “Did ya mean t’be wearin’ it backward?”

You look down at yourself, heat rising to your face when you realize that he’s right: you’ve managed to put your dress on the wrong way. You shove Joel’s shoulder, and he takes a step back, a smug grin painted on his lips that makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re a dick, y’know that?” He chuckles at your dig, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“And you’re makin’ us late to this dinner. Now, can I trust ya to fix your dress yourself, or do ya need me to help?” He delivers it like a joke, and the logical part of your brain reminds you of that the moment your pulse begins to flutter. He’s just teasin’ you like he always does.

However, the dark, hunger-tinged stare Joel is pinning you with doesn’t feel humorous. You swallow thickly, saliva pooling in your mouth and pinning your tongue to the roof. “I-” you stutter, words failing you as he continues dragging his eyes slowly over your flustered form. “You-”

“Spit it out, baby.” Baby. You turn the endearment over in your head a few times, testing the weight of it on your tongue. Finally, the corners of your lips pull up in a cheeky smile and your eyelids grow heavy as you gaze up into Joel’s face.

“You askin’ to undress me, Miller?” And this doesn’t feel like your typical banter. No, this feels weighted, laced with something headier. Something full of innuendo and promises and an unquenchable appetite for… something. And then your dad’s voice is cutting harshly through the fog.

“Hey hon, I’ll be- oh, Joel, didn’t realize ya came up here.”

Joel doesn’t even spare your dad a glance, eyes still on you as he says, “Jus’ wanted to check and see if your slow-ass kid was ready t’go.” Your dad snorts, and you narrow your eyes at Joel before turning the withering look to your father.

“Don’t laugh at that.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but ya are kinda slow.” Joel’s smirk only grows, and you huff incredulously. Your dad, apparently oblivious to the bubble of tension he popped, continues. “Anywho, was jus’ sayin’ that I’m gonna head out to the car ‘cause we need t’get goin’, so quit your dilly dallyin’ and let’s get a move on.” He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat.

You look at the ground as you mutter, “Yes, Dad, ‘m just about ready,” and your reply is met with a loud clap of your father's hands.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, rubbing his palms together before bringing a heavy hand down on Joel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Joel, you can wait with me in the car. I need t’talk to ya ‘bout some work shit anyway.” Your dad begins to drag Joel down the stairs, but not before Joel can get the last word in between you.

He cranes his head back, catching your glare as he descends the stairs. “Y’heard your daddy, no more dilly dallyin’,” he sing-songs, and you scoff.

“Oh, fuck you, Miller.” “Language, ma’am,” you hear your dad chastise sternly, and you grumble a half-assed apology as you close your bedroom door behind you. It only takes you a minute to flip your dress so that you’re wearing it the correct way and throw on a pair of light pink, lace panties, bounding down the stairs and out the front door when you’re ready. Before you know it, you’re seated in the backseat of Joel’s old pickup truck as it cruises down the highway toward Austin’s metro area.

You watch the residential neighborhoods littered with little kids running through sprinklers and elderly couples sitting in chairs on their front porches morph into the city, full of streets tightly lined with buildings and bar-hoppers entering their first destination of the night. The sun still hangs rather high in the sky, dappling the world in a warm amber glow as Joel pulls up outside a quaint Italian bistro nestled between an ice cream parlor full of bright-eyed children and a sushi restaurant rattling with the heavy bass of the music from within.

“Cute lil’ place,” you say, surveying the old brick exterior of the building and the burgundy awning hanging over the open front door that bears the name of the restaurant, Palermio’s, in loopy, white script. “Sarah’s choice?”

Joel reaches his hand behind your dad’s headrest, using one hand to turn the wheel while he starts to squeeze his truck into the last snug parking spot outside of the bistro. “No, darlin’, I did.” You stare at his side profile as he maneuvers the truck, surprise lacing your features. It’s not until he’s parked the car and meets your eyes in the rearview mirror as he’s straightening out in his seat that you realize he’s bullshitting you.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you throw open your door and slide from the backseat, and he’s following you a second later.

“Y’know, you oughta be nicer t’me. I am your boss,” he says as you round his truck, his arm brushing yours, and you look up at him. “Could fire ya for bein’ disrespectful, ‘f I really wanted to.” You smirk at him and shrug.

“Ya could, but then you’d be losin’ your best employee, right?” His chest bounces as he laughs, and you smile at the pleasant noise before getting distracted by how his relatively new-looking cream-colored t-shirt bearing the album cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors stretches tautly over the slopes of his wide shoulders.

“Damn right, lady,” he agrees, his gaze crawling over your body as he drags his thumb over his mostly pepper, slightly salt mustache that decorates his upper lip. Your skin crawls pleasantly as you feel him examining you, and you’re just about to reach your father, who’s waiting for the two of you by the entrance to the restaurant, when you hear Joel quietly say, “Prettiest employee, too.”

Your head whips around, feet planting on the concrete as you wait for Joel to say something, anything else. Much to your chagrin, he struts right past you shamelessly, heading inside as your dad gives you a confused look.

“You comin’, honey?” You shake your head, trying to dispel the medley of thoughts whirring around your brain. Did I hear him right? No, no, he didn’t mean that. Definitely not.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, stepping inside with a sheepish smile in your dad’s direction. “Thought I heard someone callin’ my name, ‘s my bad.” Your dad just nods his head in understanding before draping an arm over your shoulder and steering you toward the back of the restaurant, where you can see Joel already greeting the members of your party who have already arrived.

As you draw closer, you watch him envelope his daughter in a firm hug, rocking back and forth for a few seconds as he whispers something in her ear. She giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and when Sarah pulls back from his embrace, her deep brown eyes, which are almost identical to her father’s, catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to react, she’s colliding with you so hard you grunt.

“You came!” she squeals, jumping up and down as you wrap your arms around her and giggle.

“Course I came, Sarah. Wouldn’t ‘ve missed your twenty-first birthday for the world, ‘re ya kiddin’?” She takes a step back, holding you by the shoulders before drawing you back in for another tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus’ didn’t know ‘f you’d be able to make it, didn’t know ‘f you’d have other plans or somethin’.” She bites her lip when you pull away this time, trying to hide the way she’s beaming at you, and a big smile paints your face.

“Nah, no plans more important than my best friend’s birthday.” She smiles and leads you back to the table, where your dad and Joel have already found their seats. You lean against her and whisper conspiratorially, “Did have to fight with my boss t’get some time off for the occasion, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like ya wouldn’t believe.” Sarah giggles, leveling you with a knowing grin.

“I’m sure I’ve got some idea,” she says as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and you slip around to take the only empty seat, which happens to be between Joel and Tommy, his younger brother that you’ve only seen a handful of times. You offer the younger Miller brother a polite smile, which he returns with a cheeky smirk before you turn back to the birthday girl.

“You’ve ain’t ever been that excited t’see me,” Joel says accusingly at Sarah, jerking his head toward where Sarah had practically tackled you, and you stifle a laugh at the hint of playful jealousy in his tone.

“‘s ‘cause I’m not a grumpy old man,” you snark, and Tommy guffaws beside you, reaching around your back to slap Joel’s shoulder lightheartedly.

“She gotcha there, big brother,” he says, accent saturated with his heavy Texas twang. Joel grumbles something incoherent and Tommy shoots you an amused wink. You watch your dad snort with laughter in his seat across from you, and Sarah’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s seated on her other side opposite Joel tries not to look too entertained by your ribbing of his girlfriend’s father, wisely busying himself with the menu.

A few minutes after ordering your drinks your waitress reappears carrying a large tray brimming with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. You take a sip of your Pinot Noir, hiding a small smile behind the fruity flavor as the waitress sets a large cocktail layered with green, white, and red liquid and adorned with a small Italian flag attached to a thin, black straw in front of a wide-eyed Sarah. You’re unable to mask your laughter, however, when Joel’s eyes find the massive drink and he nearly chokes on his sip of Peroni.

“Babygirl,” he sputters, still recovering from his small conniption, “that’s a lotta-”

“I’m twenty-one now, Dad, I can handle my alcohol,” Sarah assures him with an annoyed roll of her eyes and a look at you that says can you believe this guy? And it’s true, Sarah is more than capable of handling her drinks if the videos she’s shown you of her time at college are any indication.

“I know, jus’... jus’ pace yourself, yeah?” She concedes with a small huff, and you wiggle your eyebrows at her tauntingly.

“Yeah, Sarah, make sure ya pace yourself. Got a while ‘fore ya can hang with us big dogs. Right, Joel?” You elbow him in the side, and he looks at you disdainfully.

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” he murmurs under his breath. You shrug, snagging a piece of fresh, warm bread from the basket the waitress sat in the middle of the table and dipping it in the plate of olive oil and seasoning before stuffing it in your mouth.

“Learned it fwom the besht,” you say merrily, grinning at him through your mouth full of food, and he sneers at you in disgust before turning his attention to your father and Tommy, who are in a heated debate over the Dallas Cowboys chances of success in the upcoming season.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Tommy, this s’our year! We jus’ picked up that kid from- from… aw shit, where’s he from again?” Your dad rubs his temples, hoping to dislodge the information from some small, dusty compartment of his brain.

“Notre Dame,” Joel chimes in as he reaches for his own piece of bread, and your dad snaps his fingers as his face lights up in remembrance.

“Notre Dame!” he bellows, and you shoot him a look that he promptly returns with an apologetic wince. “Notre Dame, yeah, s’right,” he says, quieter this time with a little smile, and you leave him and Tommy to continue their chat as you tune in to the conversation at the other end of the table.

“Anyway, Dad, so Becca-”

“Which one s’that?” Sarah looks at Joel in disbelief.

“Becca. Rebecca Landry. My best friend in high school, goes t’LSU with me, we lived together ‘fore I moved in with Luke…” Joel just stares at his daughter with vacant eyes, and you snort. “Dude, come on, ya literally grilled for her graduation party.” Joel shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. You watch how his throat bobs as he swallows and quickly avert your eyes, hoping no one caught you gawking.

“Sorry, hon, doesn’t ring a bell.” She huffs, and Joel smirks, clearly just giving her a hard time.

“Whatever. Anyway, her boyfriend proposed to ‘er last week, and it was jus’ the cutest thing. Real private ‘cause y’know how she is. She told me they don’t have a date set yet, but they’re thinkin’ ‘bout next Spring. Said t’ask if she should add ya to the guest list.” Joel hums non-committally, clearly lacking an opinion on the matter, and you pinch his elbow. He jerks out of your grip, looking at you with annoyance, and you cock your head in Sarah’s direction. When he turns to see her expectant glance, he huffs, head leaning back as he stares at the ceiling.

“Tell ‘er I’ll be there,” Joel capitulates, and Sarah beams in excitement before giving you a grateful grin.

“Awesome! She’ll be so excited, she loves ya.” Joel crosses his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head slightly as he leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs farther. You have to try desperately to keep your breath from hitching at the action.

“Speakin’ o’ weddings and proposals n’ all that,” your dad says, giving Luke a friendly clap on the back. “When’s it your turn, buckaroo? ‘s been, what, three years of datin’? Gotta be soon, hm?”

Luke looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and sink into the floor at the line of questioning, something your dad remains completely oblivious to. Feeling bad, you throw the guy a lifeline.

“Leave ‘im alone, Dad. Jesus, you ain’t even that interested in my love life,” you huff, sipping your wine. Luke seems to remember how to breathe, a look of thanks on his face as your dad scrunches his nose up.

“‘s cause I’m not. Don’t wanna know about some boy who’s wastin’ your time ‘cause he ain’t good ‘nough for ya.”

“Your daddy’s right, hon, ya deserve more than what some boy can give ya ,” you hear from your right side, and then a thick arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. You turn to look at Tommy, who’s closer to you than the last time you paid him any attention.

“Knock it off, Tommy,” you hear Joel grumble, and you watch Tommy’s eyes dart over your shoulder and narrow minutely. An expression of innocence plasters over his face to quickly replace the mischievous smirk previously there.

“Knock what off, big brother?” Your gaze shifts to Joel, and you nearly wilt at the stormy look he’s shooting his brother. His eyes are simultaneously full of emotion and totally unreadable, jaw ticking in… wait, is he jealous?

“Quit.” You bristle at Joel’s harsh tone, not realizing until it’s too late that when you shrink back at his timbre, you lean further into Tommy. You can feel the egotism rolling off of the younger Miller brother, and the tension building in Joel’s figure seems to grow until he’s at serious risk of snapping. You’re sure that the only way this ends is with Tommy making another haughty comment that results in Joel leaping over your lap and strangling the man…

“Alright, who ordered the lasagna?” Your waitress’ voice dissipates the thunderous air instantaneously, and everyone’s attention snaps to her. The wide, practiced smile she’s wearing falters for just a second, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, ‘m I interrupting somethin’?” The tight pinch of Joel’s face evaporates before your eye, and you watch, stunned, as he turns toward your waitress.

“Nah, darlin’, you’re alright. Reckon that’ll be mine,” he says, cool as clam. By the time all the food is dished out and you’re digging into your respective dinners, the near fight is long forgotten. Unfortunately, you’re not able to shake the bitter feeling of envy that twisted in your stomach at hearing Joel call the waitress “darlin’”.

Before long, all six of your plates have been cleaned, and each of you sits back in your chairs, thoroughly stuffed full of rich Italian food. Your dad belches, drawing a laugh from the other men at the table while your and Sarah’s faces pinch in distaste, and the casual conversation continues as the street outside grows raucous with the Austin nightlife.

Your dad, ever the chatterbox, is going on about some upcoming project at his contracting firm when you feel it: the firm weight of an arm draped over the backrest of your seat. You pay it no mind at first, chalking it up to Tommy’s touchy but harmless hands.

That is until you feel soft, gentle shapes being drawn into the bare skin of your bicep on Tommy’s side. Your brain doesn’t comprehend the logistics of this immediately, and your head snaps in Tommy’s direction to find the younger man’s attention focused raptly on your father with his hands in his lap.

Your back straightens, and goosebumps prickle across your skin when it finally clicks whose hands are on you; you slowly, inconspicuously face your father again, pretending like you’re listening so as not to spark anyone at the table’s awareness, all while peeking at Joel out of the corner of your eye.

At first glance, it appears that he, like everyone else at the table, is completely engaged with the words tumbling from your dad’s mouth. But you know Joel too well. You pick up on the slight quirk of his lips, the way his thick thighs spread almost obnoxiously wide so his knee grazes yours, and how he’s drumming the thick fingers of his other hand rhythmically against the table. Joel felt how your body reacted to his touch.

And he liked it.

That piece of information is what has the low burn in your belly from earlier in your bedroom reigniting, blazing up your skin and making your neck and chest flush a deep red. Joel must be able to sense your blundering state because he removes his hand from you altogether, causing your heart to drop. Your whole body begins to slump in disappointment just as you feel Joel replace his touch on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed when you sat down and the already short dress you’d thrown on in a panic earlier rode higher up your legs.

He squeezes you there, thumb passing back and forth lightly, and your thighs spread of their own volition to allow him more room. You can see his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he’s able to play it off easily as a reaction to your dad’s story. You do the same with the small smile that stretches your lips as his hand begins to creep higher up your leg.

And it’s risky, what you’re doing. Allowing your dad’s best friend, the father of the girl you’ve lived next to almost your entire life, your boss, to inch his big, calloused hand closer and closer to where you want him most right here at this very public dinner.

And yet, you simply do not care.

Well, you don’t care until you feel the pad of his thumb brush your sex over your panties, and you jerk at the sensation, thighs closing to stop the movement of his hands. The action draws your dad’s attention to you, and his brow furrows as he scans your face.

“You okay, hon? You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Your pulse thunders in your ears as you fumble for an excuse.

“No, yeah, ‘m fine. Jus’... yeah, not – uh, not feelin’ too hot.” Everyone at the table looks at you with concern. Even Joel, though his eyes possess an air of arrogance at your state. The bastard.

“Babe, you can go home ‘f ya need to,” Sarah says, and your eyes go wide as you shake your head.

“No! No, ’m fine, really. I wanna stay for you, ‘s your birthday ‘n all.”

She waves her hand as though she’s physically batting away your excuse. “Party’s basically over anyway. Luke and I were gonna meet some friends at a bar a few blocks over anyway, so y’all are good t’go whenever.”

“Well, I’m ready t'head home now,” your dad says, beginning to rise from his chair. “Rangers game ’s on at 9, and 'f we hurry, I won’t miss more than the first inning.” Joel, reading your dad’s eagerness to get home as his cue to be ready to leave as well, stands, and you catch the way he subtly adjusts himself on the way up. You resign yourself to the fact that the fleeting, secret moment between you is slipping through your fingers, and, albeit reluctantly, you follow his lead.

Tommy’s still seated, sipping casually from his beer, when he informs your dad, “Nah, man, it’s Friday night in downtown Austin. Reckon y’all won’t get home ‘til the third inning, at least.” Your father curses, running a hand over his semi-bald head in genuine worry, and you almost have to laugh at the concern twisting his features into a grimace. The urge to laugh quickly fades as you watch Tommy shrug his shoulders and carelessly say, “There’s a place 'bout five minutes away, lil’ sports bar my buddies and I go to t’watch the game sometimes. Can get kinda rowdy, but you’re welcome to tag along, ‘f ya want.”

Your jaw almost falls off at Tommy, who’s completely oblivious to the bone he’s just thrown you. When you turn just enough to allow you a view of Joel out of the corner of your eye, you immediately notice his almost imperceptibly stiffer posture. You watch your dad’s face light up with excitement, a hell yeah on the tip of his tongue.

And then, suddenly, his expression drops and he’s looking at you guiltily. “Aww shit, Tommy, that sounds great, but ‘f this one,” he says, jabbing a thumb in your direction, “ain’t feelin’ well, I oughta get ‘er home.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You go to object, to insist, practically beg your dad to take Tommy up on his offer so that it’s just you and Joel on the ride home, but Joel beats you to it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll take ‘er.” For the second time in mere minutes, you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to gawk at one of the Miller brothers.

“You sure, Joel? Don’t wanna inconvenience ya or nothin’.” You watch Joel shrug, and then he turns to you, pinning you with an unreadable stare.

“Y’alright with that, lady?” You stare at him, speechless. Are you alright with spending the entire ride home, perhaps even longer if your dad stays to watch the whole game and Sarah is bar-hopping, alone with Joel Miller right after his hand was brushing against your wet, wanting pussy?

Yeah, you were pretty fucking alright with that.

Your silence must draw on for an uncomfortably long time because Joel raises his eyebrows at you, prompting an answer. “Yes!” you say, just a touch too loud, and you take a deep breath before turning back to your dad. “Yeah, sounds good – cool, ‘s cool with me.”

Your dad gives you one more half-hearted once-over, verifying that you don’t need his escort home, but he’s in a losing battle with himself; the moment that Joel offered his services, your dad was sold. The coy little, “Well, ‘f you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he extends to Joel is like a tepid stamp of finality as his mind is already half-full with Rangers jargon.

Joel gives your dad a nod before jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get ya home.” And you try, you really do try not to walk with your chest puffed out the entire way to Joel’s truck. You try to keep up the facade of illness that was brought on by your lustful tizzy.

But Joel called you darlin’, and fuck if it didn’t sound better falling from his lips when it was directed at you and not some waitress.

***

Tommy, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, was right; traffic absolutely crawled in the downtown Austin area at this time on a Friday night. You’d peeled away from the restaurant almost thirty minutes ago, when the sun was beginning its descent.

Now, the analog numbers on Joel’s dash blink 8:57 p.m. , the summer sky having just shifted from muddy brown to steel grey and will soon start to give way to the dark of night and the whisperings of stars, and you’ve just managed to make it out of the city.

Thirty minutes, nearly two thousand seconds, and each one totally void of speech. Joel stared straight out the front windshield, hands carefully gripping the steering wheel as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the metro landscape give way to soil and farmland, groups of clubgoers replaced by black and brown spotted cows.

It’s not until the current CD in Joel’s radio reaches its end and the gears click, switching to the familiar crooning voice of Bob Dylan, that your soft singing breaks the silence.

“What was that?” Joel asks, and you turn your gaze to watch him, focus still intent on the road in front of him.

“Nothin’, just singin’.” He looks at you then, just a quick glance in your direction, but it makes your blood sing.

“Y’like Bob Dylan? “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, hm?” You shrug noncommittally, and his responding smirk makes you sit up in your seat.

“What’re ya laughin’ at?” Joel just shakes his head, and you lean over and swat his bicep playfully. “What?”

“Nothin’, baby.” The word sounds perfect in his low, gruff timbre, and you grin stupidly. When he sees your expression, he reaches over and wraps his big palm around your knee, giving it a shake. “Got good taste s’all. Didn’t expect it from ya.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to pretend like the large spread of his hand over your bare skin doesn’t make your core throb.

“Don’t act so surprised, Miller. You should know better than anyone how much I like old shit.” He clucks his tongue, sliding his hand farther up your leg and squeezing your thigh in warning.

“Careful,” he advises teasingly, but you’re not feeling particularly cautious tonight.

“Says you.”

“Says me?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind the action as all the warmth in your body is currently shooting to a spot in your tummy. “Yeah, Joel, says you. I wasn’t the one with my hands between your legs in the middle of dinner tonight.” You watch Joel’s posture straighten and you try to hide your grin at his reaction.

Bingo.

You bite your lip and watch his eyes dart in your direction. Even in the ever-darkening dusk, you can see the hint of hunger in his pupils. “Didn’t see you complainin’.” You adjust in your seat, and Joel’s hand slips higher, his pinky just barely dipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“‘s ‘cause I liked it,” you say matter-of-factly, and you watch him exhale heavily. His head swings lazily to look at you, eyes dropping to where his palm rests on your slightly spread thighs before traveling up to meet your stare.

“Yeah? Liked me touchin’ your pussy with all those people ‘round? Any of ‘em coulda caught us, pretty girl. Coulda caught me feelin’ how fuckin’ wet you were, soakin’ through your panties.” And you’re almost sure Joel’s trying to make a point in there somewhere. That what you two did was risky in and of itself, not to mention the fact that he was touching you like that in public.

And yet all you can focus on is that name. Pretty girl. You think it’s your favorite thing he’s ever called you.

When you don’t answer right away, Joel looks back to the road. You watch him check the rearview mirror, and then he’s making a left down a long road and parking the car on a small dirt pull-off a few hundred feet in.

You look around, surveying your surroundings; tall prairie grass decorates your side of the road while a large cornfield stretches over the side closest to Joel, and the only thing lighting the earth for a few miles in any direction is the soft glow of the moon overhead. When you focus your attention on Joel again, half of his face is shadowed while the gleam of lunar opalescence illuminates the other half.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, and you can’t help but stare. You reach toward Joel, cautiously at first, but emboldened when he squeezes your leg. You cup his jaw and rub your thumb over his stubbled jaw; his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and you shuffle closer, Joel’s hand falling away from you as you sit up on your knees and reach across the center console to cup the dark side of his face with your other hand.

His palm finds a new position on your hip, and when his eyes open again, revealing his dark, chocolatey irises to you, your body leans closer toward his of its own volition. As if something inside of him, perhaps the very marrow of his bones, is magnetized to yours.

“Joel,” you say, soft voice cutting through the silence in the cab of the truck.

“Hmm?”

“Is this… is this bad? What we’re doing?’ His eyes dart around your face, taking in your heated gaze with a warmth of his own. He sighs as his other hand traces up the side of your body before slipping around your shoulders and resting on the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t say it’s good.” You nod, scratching your nails lightly through the salt-and-pepper beard he’s let grow.

“Should we stop?” It comes out as a whisper, laced with apprehension, tediousness, and want. So, so much want.

“Probably.” And he’s right. Whatever this thing between you and Joel is, it’s not feasible. Sure, it would be great. Amazing, even… until it’s not. Until the appetite for each other dies out and what’s left is a hollow skeleton of awkward encounters and forced conversation to keep up appearances.

Either that or the hunger becomes all-consuming, to the point where you can’t eat, can’t breathe, can’t sleep without thoughts of Joel dominating your mind.

And maybe that’s worse, you think. Finding out what Joel tastes like, what it feels like when he sinks into your wet heat, just for it to one day be stolen from you.

Because there isn’t an angle to approach this from that doesn’t end in the same unfortunate reality; Joel can’t be yours. He will never be yours.

And, so, yeah. You probably should stop. But as you go to pull away, to take your hands off of Joel and sit back in your seat while Joel returns the truck to the main road before depositing you safely at home like the good friend he is, Joel’s grip on the nape of your neck tightens. And then he’s tugging your mouth to meet his and your hands, still cupping his cheek, are pulling his face in to meet you halfway.

When Joel’s lips slot against yours, you’re surprised by how soft he is. Joel Miller, perpetually gruff and probably born with callouses etched into his hands, is so inconceivably gentle at the first contact of his mouth against yours. You sigh, breathing him in as he threads his fingers into your hair, and a moment of tranquility washes over you. This truck is the only place that has ever or will ever exist, and you and Joel are the only two people in the world.

You slide one of your hands from his jaw to his neck, stroking the solid strength of his throat, and a rough noise vibrates from him. You repeat the motion experimentally, and he groans into you, tongue darting out to politely ask for entrance into your mouth.

You accept with an enthusiastic moan, and that’s when the seemingly endless reservoir of Joel’s reserve drains dry. He licks into you, tongue caressing yours when you part your lips for him, and the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you held steadily against him. He feasts on you, stealing the air you breathe as he kisses you ferociously.

Joel sucks on your tongue when you go to mewl, and the sound is replaced by a wanton whine. You roll your hips over nothing, and Joel clocks the movement immediately. You feel his reluctance as he drags his mouth from yours, and you sit and wait, carefully assessing every minute change in his expression as you try to regain your composure.

You’re sure you’re supposed to be embarrassed right now, ashamed that you couldn’t keep your neediness in check. However, you can only think about two things: how fucking horny you are at the moment, and how that was probably the only time you’ll ever kiss Joel because this entire thing is about to come crashing down in short-lived, fiery oblivion.

But Joel does something. Something that really shocks you, leaves you vulnerable to attack and exposed right down to the root of you. He looks you up and down, from the slightly frumpled state of your green dress to the no-doubt wild gleam in your eyes, and smirks before saying, “You need t’be filled up, don’t ya, baby?”

You smile and nod, licking your lips as you appraise the man sitting in front of you. He’s so intoxicatingly broad, the sleeves of his shirt stretching tightly over his biceps while the legs of his jeans pull taut along his thighs. You shift in your seat again, causing Joel to pull you closer, and though you’re uncomfortably sprawled across the center console, you’ve never felt more right than you do right now.

Your lips are brushing Joel’s, so close you can feel the warm puffs of breath leaving his nostrils, and any slight surge forward by either of you would connect your mouths again. Instead, you stay like that, so close but still too far for your liking.

“Tell me what it is you want, sweetheart.” You angle your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before drifting your lips back to hover over his.

“Want your cock, Joel.” Your bluntness must take him by surprise because his head falls back against his seat and he groans. You take the opportunity to drop your lips to his neck, kissing it lightly before licking up the column of his throat and biting delicately at the junction where his neck meets his jaw.

“Yeah?” He takes one of your hands and drags it down his front, letting you feel the muted strength of his abdomen tailored from years of manual labor and the soft swell of his belly before landing on the thick bulge in his pants. You pull away from where you were beginning to leave a small bruise on his neck to look at where your hand cups his clothed erection, and you practically drool at the sight. “You want this, hmm?”

“Yes,” you confirm airily before your eyes snap up to meet his, heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “Please, Joel, I- I need it.” He nods, the hand that guided yours leaving you to your own devices and drifting back up to rub his thumb over your lips. You take the opportunity to massage him through his pants, and he sighs, smirking at you.

“Tell me where ya need it, honey,” he lilts, and you grip his bicep as you squeeze his cock lightly. “Need it here?” He nudges his thumb gently between your parted lips, and even as you shake your head, your mouth opens to him, allowing him to push his finger inside. You swirl your tongue over the salty pad of his thumb, switching to mellow kitten licks before taking it deeper.

“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at you. He presses his thumb down against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide so he can see down your throat. “Gotta tell me where then, baby.” You close your mouth again, sucking on his thumb briefly before pulling off of him with a lewd pop.

Your eyes never leave his, and you watch them turn impossibly darker when you tell him earnestly, “My pussy. Want you to stretch my cunt with your fat cock.” He huffs lightly at the vulgarity of your words, and you squeeze him through his pants again.

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, y’know that?” He looks almost in awe, and you smirk at him, beginning to crawl across the center console to straddle him. When he stops you with a hand to your sternum, you look at him in confusion. “We can’t tonight, darlin’. Wanna take my time with you when I fuck ya, gotta make sure I get ya ready.”

You’re so utterly disappointed you ache with it, pouting at him as you draw in close. “But I’m ready now, Joel. So fuckin’ wet for you, have been since the restaurant.”

He gives you a chaste kiss before pulling back and jerking his head toward your seat. “Show me.” You smirk as you slink back into your seat. You rest with your back against the car door, your right leg dangling off the seat while you tuck your left leg up and spread your knees farther apart, causing the hem of your dress to ride up your thighs until it’s brushing your tummy. You can tell by the wrecked look in Joel’s eyes that from this angle, he has a perfect view of the damp spot decorating the slip of pink lace that is your underwear.

“Fuck, baby, ya weren’t lyin’,” he mutters, fingers smoothing his mustache. “Pretty lil’ panties are soaked. That all for me?” You bite your lip and nod, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy as you ghost your fingertips over the soft skin of your thighs. He makes a noise of appreciation as he watches your movements hungrily, fist clenching as your digits move closer to your aching core.

“Mhm, f’course it is,” you assure, letting out a breathless, needy gasp when your fingers brush your clit over your underwear. You’re sure you must look fucked out, and you’d be embarrassed by that fact if it weren’t for the heady look Joel’s pinning you with right now. You whine as Joel brings his hand down to palm the thick, rigid outline of his cock bulging against his jeans, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. You roll your hips and whine at the stimulation, doing it again without breaking eye contact with Joel.

He squeezes himself and groans as you rut slowly against yourself, dipping a finger down to tease at your soaking entrance over your damp panties, and he smirks. “You gonna show me how ya fuck yourself, baby? Show me how ya like it, hm?”

And you would. You really, really would. Except Joel Miller is sitting in front of you with nothing but a few measly scraps of fabric preventing you from his hard length, and you think that it would be such a waste to not take advantage of that fact.

Besides, you’ve already made yourself come more times than you can count with Joel Miller’s name on your tongue.

“No, baby,” you shake your head, and his brows pinch in confusion. You lick your lips, hand halting its ministrations as you sit up on your haunches and stare at Joel. “Want ya to fill me up.”

He huffs exasperatedly at that, and his tone is laced with annoyance when he says, “Jus’ told ya, ‘m not fuckin’ ya t’night-”

“Joel.” Your interruption shuts him up and he watches you lean in. You brush your lips over his, along his jaw and up his cheek before halting by his ear. “I want you,” you say, dragging a hand down his chest to rest over his in his lap, “to put your cock in my mouth and fill me up.”

You apply pressure down over his hand, making him squeeze himself and the sound he makes is something close to a growl. He angles his head so that your lips meet for a heated kiss and he licks into your mouth immediately, tongue dancing with yours.

“Yeah?” Joel breathes into your mouth, and the hand not palming his dick threads into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs, pulling your head back so that you look down your nose at him with wide eyes and heavy lids. “Ya wanna suck me off?” You smile almost shyly and nod, and he tuts at you, bending to kiss the hollow of your throat before licking a stripe up your neck.

“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’. You had so much t’say earlier, know this pretty mouth s’good for more than just takin’ my dick.” You whine, pressing your thighs together as best you can and rubbing, trying to give yourself some, any friction.

“Wanna taste you, Joel,” you murmur, already delirious and you haven’t even gotten your mouth on him. “Want it so bad, please.”

He rakes his eyes over you, takes in the needy glide of your thighs against each other and the ragged pants making your chest heave. He must take pity on your haggard form because he grins affectionately and releases his hand from your hair.

“Since ya asked so nicely,” he says, palm gliding around to sit on your shoulder. He strokes the column of your throat a few times, watching you with a hooded gaze before nodding toward his crotch. “Go on, baby. Show me how much ya want it.”

You don’t need to be told any more than that before you’re hastily undoing his belt, ripping it from his pants and tossing it into the backseat while simultaneously popping the button on his jeans. Where your movements are hurried and ravenous, Joel’s are soft and sweet; he strokes your back lightly, broad, calloused palm feeling heavenly as it tracks over your bare skin.

You lower the zipper on his jeans and he lifts his hips, allowing you to drag the coarse fabric down his thighs. It takes you a second after you’ve maneuvered his pants out of your way to realize you’re face to face with the stiff outline of Joel’s cock, straining against the black fabric of his boxers. Your mouth goes chalky when you see the small dot of moisture near his fat tip, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and pressing a kiss to the spot.

Your groan is in unison with his, and Joel must be growing impatient because his hand snakes up to gently cradle your neck. “Don’t be a tease, pretty girl,” he scolds tenderly, and the endearment causes you to look up at him through your lashes. What you find in his eyes is something lusty, full of desire and want and… pure, unadulterated awe. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Wasn’t bein’ a tease,” you say, bending back down to mouth at his cock over his boxers, and he moans when you lave at his swollen tip through his underwear.

“Nah, jus’ so needy ya can’t even wait ‘til I get my cock out t’put your mouth on it, hm?” You lick up his dick and feel it twitch, his thigh tensing underneath the hand you have braced there. You smirk, looking up at him as you dip your pointer fingers under the band of his underwear, hooking your digits and arching your eyebrow.

He acquiesces with a lazy smile, lifting his hips, and you slowly drag the tight fabric of his boxers down to where his pants pool around his knees. However, you don’t immediately look at Joel’s length after fully freeing it from the confines of his clothes. You’re not sure why a cool feeling of nervous anticipation washes over you, but you find yourself stalling, rubbing your thumb over the inside of his knee and kissing his thigh gently.

Joel, the attentive man he is, picks up on your nerves immediately. He massages the area where your spine meets your skull, and you practically melt at the feeling. “Y’okay?” he says softly, and you nod, turning your head to rest on his thigh. Your eyes avoid his dick, jumping up to land on his face. His expression is so kind, so compassionate and observant, that it makes you ache.

“‘m fine. More than fine, ‘m good. Great.” He nods, stroking your cheek before he frowns.

“Y’know, ‘f ya aren’t feelin’ it anymore, we can stop. We don’t have’ta-”

“S’not that,” you mutter, and he stops talking, waiting for you to go on. You inhale deeply, looking for the courage to speak your thoughts into the charged atmosphere of the truck. “I jus’... don’t want ya to regret this.” He flashes you a perplexed look before tipping his head back and laughing. Your cheeks blaze with heat, embarrassment creeping in to tamper the fire of want, and you bury your face into Joel’s thigh to hide.

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t respond, he grabs your jaw and makes you turn to him. “Baby. Look at me.” You stare, lip twisted in your teeth, and you can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. He angles your chin down then, and you finally let your eyes fall, taking in the cock you’ve tried to conjure in your imagination while your fingers were stuffed in your pussy more times than you can count.

In a word, Joel Miller’s dick is pretty. Thick and long and tan. Veiny and girthy, easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. His tip, which is a few shades darker than every other part of his length, is an angry red, weeping precome from the little slit at the top. The thick weight of him bobs up and sits at attention against his belly, resting against him obediently. Your mouth pools with saliva at the sight of it.

Through the cotton in your ears, you can just barely make out when Joel says, “You tell me, honey. ‘s that look like regret t’you?” You swallow thickly and shake your head.

“N-no,” you stutter, sitting up slightly. You admire the way pearly beads of precome trail down his length and subconsciously lick your lips.

“No.” You can feel his stare on the side of your face, but you can’t focus on anything except the cock in front of you that has you drooling while your cunt begs to be filled. “Want this, sweet girl, jus’ as bad as you, and that ain’t gonna change tomorrow or the day after or next week. I want this,” he says, and he says it with such confidence and surety that you have no choice but to believe him. You nod, almost in a trance, before bending over and pressing a chaste kiss to his fat head.

He must not have been expecting that response from you because at the contact of your lips against his hard member, his head falls back against the seat and he groans, the sound drawing out when you start to press soft kitten licks to his slit.

“That’s it, honey – fuck, feels good.” You preen under his praise, smirking as you spread your lips to wrap around his tip. He hisses through his teeth, and the noise is all you need to start slowly working him down your throat. He’s so big, and even just the head of his cock has your jaw straining slightly.

You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to take him fully in your mouth, that you’ll have to use one, if not both hands to stroke the rest of his long, thick dick as you focus your attention on the head. But that doesn’t stop you from trying.

You pull off of him quickly, and he responds with a disappointed little grunt, mouth turned down in a depressing little frown. That is, until he watches you spit into your hand and place your palm around his base, stroking him slowly. A lopsided smile replaces his previous expression and when you twist your fist at the same time your mouth latches back onto his cock, he can’t help but jerk his hips. Joel’s thrust makes his tip kiss the back of your throat and it takes you by surprise, making you gag.

You watch his eyes go wide in worry as he immediately murmurs, “‘m sorry, baby,” his voice utterly wrecked. You lick from the space your fist occupies and swirl your tongue over him a few times, looking into his eyes as you catch your breath.

“S’okay, Joel,” you purr, lips against him as his cock twitches at the low cadence of your voice. “I can handle it, I won’t break.” And then you’re right back to easing him down your throat. Drool dribbles from your mouth as you work him in your fist, stroking and twisting and pulling while your tongue focuses on the sensitive area you’ve discovered just under his head.

The cab of the truck fills with the melody of your slick mouth sucking Joel off, punctuated by the sweet sounds falling from his lips. Joel isn’t a particularly talkative person, but you’re incredibly happy to find that all that changed when your head was bobbing up and down his length.

“Good girl, perfect fuckin’ girl,” he grits out, tightening his hand into a fist and slamming it against his window a few times as he struggles to keep his hips stationary. You hum around him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to thread into your hair to encourage him to move. A throaty groan rips through him as he realizes what you’re asking, and he thrusts lightly into your mouth.

You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper than he had been just a minute ago, and the feeling of being so utterly full of him makes you whine, shuffling slightly to relieve the pressure building at the apex of your thighs.

“Y’like that, sweetheart? Like when I fuck your pretty face?” The utter filth he’s spewing at you makes you gasp and whimper, and he laughs almost smugly at your reaction to his words. “Yeahhh, you like that. Go on, baby, touch yourself while you suck my cock.” You don’t have to be told twice, snaking your hand down to rub frantically at your aching clit while he slowly, gently jerks his hips into the tight, warm, wet vice of your mouth.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time, seeing as how you were already thoroughly worked up from your little display at the restaurant and everything that’s transpired in Joel’s truck since. Actually, if you’re being honest, you’ve been soaking into your panties since that stunt you pulled in your room before you even made it to dinner.

You feel stuffed to the brim, Joel’s cock hitting a spot in your throat over and over that has tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks to combine with your spit lathering his cock. He brushes his big thumb over the path a tear careens down, brushing away the wetness as he drags his hand down to cradle your throat.

“Doin’ real good for me, doin’ perfect.” He squeezes lightly around your neck and curses. “Shit, darlin’, I can feel my cock right here.” He taps your throat and you whine, eyes rolling back as you rut desperately against your fingers. You’re so, so close, and you can tell that Joel is too by the way his tempered pace is growing more erratic, his shallow thrusts less controlled. The noises dripping from his lips to meet your ears are gruffer now too, words he’s failing to string into sentences as they're cut off by expletives and needy moans.

Joel looses a low, gravelly groan that signals he’s mere moments from reaching his peak, and you hear him choke out, “Where do ya want it, baby?’ just as the pull of pleasure burning in your tummy goes taut. You don’t answer, opting instead to simply pull off of him and seat your open mouth at the head of his cock, sticking your tongue out and looking up into his face. Joel smirks as you continue jerking him off with the hand not paying attention to your clit, but his smile falls into a slack-jawed look of lust as his balls pull tight and he comes.

The thick ropes of warm cum spurting over your tongue and decorating the inside of your mouth are just what you need to push you into your own climax; your legs shake and you let a high-pitched sound ring through the truck cab as your cunt clenches hard around nothing, wetness seeping from your underwear and coating the insides of your thighs.

Despite your own orgasm, you make sure to catch every last drop of Joel’s spend, holding it on your tongue for him to see. The space goes silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in your respective post-coital bliss as your eyes scan over each other. Your gaze hangs heavy as he takes in your sweaty, disheveled form languidly before landing back on your face. Joel shoots you an endearing, sweet look, before brushing the hair plastered to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“Go on, honey. Swallow it f’me.” You do as Joel says, swallowing the sticky fluid he’s shot down your throat, and you find the salty, tangy taste surprisingly pleasant. You clean the corners of your mouth where some of his seed landed with your thumb and, with his eyes on you, push the digit into your mouth, sucking it dry. The dirty act makes Joel shake his head and chuckle, and once you’ve finished, you open your mouth and tip your head back to show him that you’ve taken care of his mess.

You both sit there for a while, just staring at each other with your head resting on his thigh as he strokes your cheek. You’d almost call the gesture loving, but you don’t want to be presumptuous. After a decent amount of time has passed and the stars have come to bear witness to your dirty deed, you turn your head and catch the pad of Joel’s thumb in a soft kiss.

“Oughta get back,” you say, reluctantly breaking the silence. He nods, and you stay like that for a second longer before sitting back in your seat. Joel starts the truck and traverses down the lonely path toward the main road. As he pulls back out onto the black asphalt, likely still warm from the summer sun that’s long disappeared, you can’t help but wonder if this moment will forever belong to the space between that long stretch of prairie grass and corn stalks.

You can’t help but hope that it won’t.

***

As Joel nears your development, you pull down the sun visor on your side and flip open the mirror. Your mouth falls open and a little gasp slips at the sight that meets your eyes. Joel must hear it because his gaze flickers in your direction.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks, worry lacing your tone, and you almost giggle at his concern.

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” you groan, raking your fingers through the hair that Joel’s fingers knotted. Your lips are swollen and chapped, your eyelids heavy with the look of lust, and there’s a track of mascara streaking down your cheek from your tears. To put it bluntly, you look like you’ve been freshly fucked.

Joel looks at you again and barks out a laugh as he turns down your street; he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park so that he can turn to you more fully. You’re frantically trying to will the bright blush on your cheeks indicative of sex from your cheeks as you wipe furiously at the now-dried trail of black mascara.

“Waterproof” my ass.

Your head snaps in Joel’s direction when you hear him chuckle again, your eyes wide with a plea for help. He shrugs, smirking slightly. “Better get inside ‘fore someone sees ya, or else they’ll know what we’ve been up to.”

You know he’s teasing, but his words make you deflate slightly nonetheless as they feel a little bit like he’s kicking you out; however, you steel yourself quickly. There was nothing for him to kick you out of, and it was silly of you to think otherwise. Sure, you’d just sucked his dick and made him come down your throat. And, yeah, maybe he’d almost gotten caught with his hand between your legs at dinner. But that didn’t mean anything.

Just two adults engaging in a casual hookup. That’s all.

Even as you try and convince yourself of this, your reasoning, and consequently your attitude, falls flat. You grunt with thinly veiled annoyance as you grab the door handle and make to leave. “Could’ve jus’ parked at your house, I woulda walked,” you mutter, irritation simmering in your gut as you go to open the door, but then a strong hand reaches across your lap to wrap around your hand on the handle and pull it back shut.

When you try again and are met with the same result, you huff and turn, coming face to face with Joel. His brows are furrowed and the corner of his plush lips are turned down. You hate yourself for wanting to kiss him right now, even though he’s actively telling you to go while not allowing you to do so.

“What?” you bite out, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to. He squeezes your hand, and you feel tension you didn’t realize was making your body go rigid ease.

“What’s a’matter, baby?” The pet name makes you blush, and now you feel even more stupid.

“Nothin’,” you lie. Rather convincingly too, you think proudly, until Joel cocks an eyebrow and informs you just how shoddy your facade is.

“Know ya too well t’believe that bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” You huff, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You drop your hands into your lap, eyes falling to watch your thumbs twiddle. You don’t think you can look into those all-consuming brown eyes right now.

“Jus’... I dunno, bein’ dumb. Thought you were kickin’ me out or somethin’.” You shrug indifferently, and he sits there for a second, watching you fidget nervously. You see him scan your surroundings out of the corner of your eye, making sure no prying eyes are around, and before you can even react, Joel’s gripping the back of your neck and turning your head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. You melt into him, sighing in relief at the feeling of his tongue licking the seam of your mouth.

You stay like that, greedily tasting each other. Or, in Joel’s case, greedily tasting the lingering flavor of himself in your mouth. He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving and eyes dark, and you lick your lips and grin at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, baby,” he says with conviction, and you nod slowly. But apparently your response isn’t convincing enough for him, because he pulls you in closer and says against your lips slowly, “I will see you soon.”

“Okay,” you breathe into his mouth, and he kisses you chastely once, twice before opening your door and tapping your thigh.

“Now get.” You smile, hopping out of his car, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way to your front door. Even when you’ve disappeared into your house, you can feel the brand of his gaze on your flesh.

You watch through the window as he sits in his truck for another minute, and then he reverses down your driveway and pulls into the one next door, hopping out of his truck and leisurely heading up to his front door. You watch him walk into his house, and only then do you stop watching.

You’re not entirely sure how you get up to your bedroom, but you’re almost able to believe that you floated there like an apparition, head airy and thoughts bordering on dream-like. When you collapse on your bed, your mind is on the feel of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, of his cock thrusting into your throat, of what that same tongue and those same thrusts might feel like in your pussy.

What you’re not thinking about is how utterly fucked you are. You’d told yourself once that you wouldn’t be able to do a thing like this with Joel because you’d never have your fill, always wanting more after that first initial taste of him. But you’d gone against your better judgment tonight, and now that little crack of yearning had split into a yawning chasm of want; greedy and unsatiated and hungry.

Hungry for one thing, one person, one man: Joel Miller.

Yeah, you were fucked

___________________________________________________________

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dad!joel miller #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel fic #joel the last of us

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incorrectbatfam · 7 months

Note

How about Bruce pranking/embarrassing/making fun of (not in a bad way) the kids as payback for their pranks/jokes?

Dick: I'm going to Wally's.

Bruce: *grunts*

Dick: *leaves*

Bruce: *makes a phone call*

Bruce: Barry, I need you and Wally to come over here for a minute.

———————

Bruce: *pats Tim's back and sticks a barcode*

Tim: What was that for?

Bruce: Just letting you know you're doing a great job, son.

[30 minutes later]

Tim: *wearing headphones*

Bruce: *walks by and scans it*

[1 hour later]

Tim: *asleep at his desk*

Bruce: *walks by and scans it*

[2 hours later]

Bruce: *walks by and scans it*

Tim: What was that beeping?

Bruce: Just my phone.

———————

Bruce: Barbara, can you help me analyze this Kryptonite sample?

Barbara: Hm... the color and texture line up with mechanically-cut Kryptonite, but something about it seems off. Where did you find it?

Bruce: The docks.

Barbara: I'm gonna need to run some tests.

Bruce: *wonders when he should tell her it's green glass*

———————

[at dinner]

Duke: *turns and talks to someone*

Bruce: *adds a scoop of mashed potatoes to Duke's plate*

Duke: *goes back to his plate*

Duke: *leaves to get a drink*

Bruce: *adds another scoop*

Duke: *comes back and keeps eating*

Duke: *drops his fork and bends down to get it*

Bruce: *adds another scoop*

Duke: Anyway, what was I saying before?

Bruce, pointing: What's that?

Duke: *looks behind him*

Bruce: *adds another scoop*

———————

Steph: Bruce, have you seen my sweater? The purple one with white flowers.

Bruce: No, sorry.

Steph: Oh, okay. No biggie.

Steph: *leaves*

Bruce: *takes the sweater to the post office*

[a couple days later]

Alfred: Miss Stephanie, there is a package for you.

Steph: Weird, I didn't order anything.

Steph: *opens it*

Steph:

———————

Cass: *lurking in the corner*

Bruce: *secretly takes a picture from above with a drone*

Bruce: *AirDrops it to her*

———————

Bruce: What do you want for the holidays?

Damian: Well, I would like another cat.

Bruce: I'll see what I can do.

[weeks later]

Damian: A bulldozer?

Bruce: Not just any bulldozer. A Cat.

———————

Jason: *parks and goes inside*

Bruce: *steals Jason's bike tires*

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greenglowinspooks · 8 months

Text

Alright, since it’s no longer 2 in the morning and my head’s a bit clearer, I present to you:

Liminal Riddler

So, not everyone in the DC fandom knows about this, and I’d bet that even less people in the Phandom do, but at one point, the Riddler had cancer. Had, past-tense, because he cured it. With the Lazarus pits.

And yeah, not everyone who gets dipped in the pits has to be liminal, but one would assume that the sudden replacement of a large number of malignant cells throughout the body is gonna do something.

The Riddler already acts quite a lot like a DP ghost in some interpretations anyways. He’s got a strict gimmick that he genuinely can’t part ways with, he’s campy and fun, he’s incredibly violent, etc.

Also, the way that he would react to this whole thing would be funny as hell.

Do I think the Riddler would really care if the GiW was after him? No. This is Gotham, the government is constantly going after him anyways.

Do I think he would care if Danny was being hunted down by the same people, and his parents were involved? Somewhat. He probably wouldn’t care about Danny specifically, at least not right away, but a young boy running terrified from his own parents would definitely bring back some bad memories, and he would probably give him a hand (if for no other reason than to get back to plotting crimes instead of dealing with childhood trauma).

Do I think the Riddler, whose entire thing is being smarter than everyone else, would care if the GiW somehow let slip that they thought he didn’t have human intelligence? That they believed him to be nothing but an echo of human life?

It’s not even a question. He would be the most insufferable person in Gotham within the hour. Genuinely nothing could stop him, especially not if Danny was helping jailbreak him from Arkham every time he got caught.

Almost every major road is closed. Every warehouse on the Docks is on fire. Somehow, they managed to color the clouds and smog a bright green.

The natives of Gotham would probably get those anti-ghost laws and acts overturned faster than the Justice League, if only to make the Riddler stop. His traps and games aren’t even lethal at this point (due to Danny’s insistence), but they’re so genuinely annoying that the general population is about to beat the GiW agents to death themselves just to get the Riddler to quit it already.

Also, I think that during this whirl of chaos, the Riddler would become quite fond of Danny.

He’s a bright young boy who’s very fond of wordplay, and inventive enough to keep up with him. Aside from the inevitable crisis of “oh god I’m becoming the bat,” he’d probably be happy to take on Danny as his protégé. Even if the boy won’t let him kill anyone (rude), he’s a terrifying getaway driver and can turn the both of them invisible and intangible, making Arkham escapes a breeze.

Hell, the Riddler would probably be willing to make a false identity for the two of them, just so he could get the boy proper schooling.

(Yes, he thinks that the entire education system is a sham and that he could do much better, but Danny wants to go into aerospace engineering, and the Riddler isn’t one to squander someone’s interest in learning.)

(Also, Echo and Query would find the whole thing hilarious)

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc prompt #dc x dp prompt #liminal riddler #most annoying mf alive meets entire government agency who decides to insult him within 5 minutes of meeting him #he would rip the GiW to shreds in a week tops #also he didn’t even ask to use the Lazarus pits. very important detail #he found out he was dying and immediately broke into the LOA to dunk himself into the glowing Mountain Dew #the gamer ghost bath water if you will #sometimes a family is a pedantic asshole and his two lesbian henchmen taking care of a half-dead teenager who’s a fan of puns

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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 month

Note

i love from me to you sm! 😭 like it aimed directly to my heart 😭 you're so good at writing stuff so, here i am asking for a zoro!fic where reader hides that she got wounded during their last battle and zoro founds out and our poor moss head thought reader was gonna die so, he confessed (i just love flustered zoro) 😚 n e ways, continue writing the best stories!! lotsoflove! - glasses of nanamin

i feel like this is your second ask cause of the "n e ways" but lol, eitherways that's such a cute concept!! i would love love love this (i tweaked the prompt a little bit to fit it better, but i hope you like it it still)

got me losin' my cool ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: as anon asked!! you get hurt during a fight and zoro almost has a mental breakdown haha live, laugh, love <3

warning: a bit of angst, zoro is a dumbass. otherwise, wholesome!

roronoa zoro's feet pound against the earth and he was sure that with every leap he took, his heart sunk further under. his fingers were clammy. so very clammy against your soft skin. and he was sure the sweat dripping off his forehead and dropping onto your bloodied tank top was the last thing you wanted to see before you died.

"zo—" you rasped helplessly and your voice felt like graters against his skin. your chapped lips, almost closed eyes, the wound on your stomach and your week, blood-stained hand on it. he couldn't even bear to look at you without wanting to breakdown.

"stop talkin, please." he clenched his jaw tighter, the sound of teeth against teeth jarring. and although he refused to look down at you, cradled carefully in his arms, he could hear the desperate heaves that rocked your body.

he picked up the pace, ducking under hanging vines and leaping over overgrown roots of ancient trees carefully, so, as to not hurt you. the ship should be two minutes away, docked at the edge of the island and chopper must be there. and chopper would know what to do. how to help you.

zoro had to just deliver you to chopper.

but with his poor geographical skills, he felt like he had been running for the past thirty minutes without finding the ship. and he was certain the ship was docked only 10 minutes away from where the fight was taking place between the strawhat crew and a local pirate crew.

"zoro—" you started again.

why were you speaking? DID YOU WANT TO DIE?

"—don't use up your breath. please." he panted, feet still working to find the ship. where was that goddamn ship?

"that side—" you winced as you pointed your arm in the opposite direction. you coughed, wincing again before whispering, "the sunny."

zoro's head whipped around to look behind him. and at once, he changed the course. running as fast as he could, he soon found himself at the rocky beach the ship had been docked at.

"CHOPPER!" the swordsman bellowed for the mini doctor as he climbed up the ship. the reindeer was peering over the deck and when he looked at your nearly passed-out figure, he yelped in surprise.

"she got stabbed." zoro explained as he carried you inside to chopper's makeshift office/operation theater. laying you down gently, they both looked guilty as you groaned and clutched your own hand on the wound tighter.

"i need to apply some anti-septic, clean the wound and stitch it up." chopper stated, eerily calm in the heat of the moment. "here—" he gave zoro a sterilized cloth from his cupboard, "—apply it to her wound. put pressure on the area, i need to go make the anti-septic really quick."

"you have to make it? how long will that take?" if the swordman wasn't scared out of his wits, he would be surprised at how desperate he sounded.

"five minutes."

zoro looked at the reindeer wide-eyed. but the reindeer ran off, presumably to make the said medicine.

he looked back at you, putting the cloth to the wound and gently pushing down. he knew how to make the bleeding stop, he had done this multiple time. what he hadn't done multiple times was see you so lifeless, so incredibly overtaken by pain.

"hey." he found himself saying softly. softer than he had ever spoken before, "hey, can you look at me? hear me?"

you nodded slowly and relief washed over him. atleast you hadn't lost all cognitive senses.

"just focus on my voice, okay?" he knelt down so that he was on your eye-level from the bed. his other hand gingerly took ahold of yours. mindlessly, he rubbed soothing circles on your skin. he repeated, "just focus on my voice. yeah, close your eyes. i'm here okay?"

you found yourself closing your eyes, relying solely on the darkness of your eyelids and his voice to guide you to safety. his hand felt like a familiar weight against your stomach, the kind of touch that will renew a dead man and get him climbing back from his grave. his voice was sweet, too sweet to be even called his.

"i—" he paused, rubbing your skin with the pad of his thumb, "chopper's gonna fix you up, you know. h-he always does. i mean you're stronger than this. you'd survive, right?"

he's not sure if he meant to ask it as a question. he was sure he had said it to sound reassuring. but somewhere in between him uttering the words and you hearing them, they had turned into a desperate, desolate plea.

your chest fluttered underneath him, your breath strained. the face he adored slowly scrunched up from the pain. and he found himself talking even more.

"focus on me, okay? just me." he steeled his voice. and his nerves. "you'd be okay. you know, you always said you'd make me mochi, you never did. you said you'd make sake flavoured mochi. is that even a thing?" he laughed despite himself. it was barely a laugh. a pitiful scoff maybe? it was not the kind of laugh that would fool you.

"uh— once you get better." he pretended to ignore the way your body seemed to go slack under him. he repeated, "once you get better, i'm gonna convince franky to make us fireworks. you love those. and- and nami. i'd convince that money-hungry witch to lend me some money so that i can take you out. we will go shopping. you always said you—"

why were you so awfully quiet? usually, you'd talk to the point where he wanted to cut his ear off. now, he wanted to her you. he wanted to hear you call him a moss-head like sanji and he wanted you to laugh when he yelled at luffy for doing something stupid. and—

"—hey?" his voice pitched higher, "please wait, chopper will be back yeah?"

but you didn't even shake your head a weak yes. his shaky fingers reached out to look for your pulse on your neck. it was there. feeble, but there. but for how long?

how long till he lost you?

his throat was closing up, he couldn't breathe. his eyes burned and he was sure he was gonna mark your skin with his own from the way he held onto your wrist.

why won't you talk to him? call out his name, god fucking dammit. nobody called his name the way you did. as if you liked the syllables enough to make a home out of them. nobody smiled at him the way you did. so sweet, too sweet for him. you were everything. even though he was just another wrecked, broken boy with dreams too big for his mortal body, you were everything.

"please," he clutched onto you like a maddening bastard, "please. just hold on, okay?"

but bile seemed to crawl farther up his throat every time you didn't respond. not even a slight glance. not even the movement of a pinky. his fingers checked for your pulse. faint, but there.

and he couldn't hold his words back. he called out your name in a desperate effort to awaken you. water blurred his vision and he blinked it away. his throat was scratchy. too scratchy. and where was chopper?

"i love you." he finally confessed, not thinking much of his words than the fact that he just wanted you to hear them. "i love you so much. i have for so long. i-it wasn't supposed to be like this. i- i was gonna take you out to explore some island. i would have bought you food and called you an idiot when you smiled at me. then— then." he paused, "i would have told you i loved you. you would have said nothing back. and i would have loved even despite that."

he called out your name, sobs racking through his body like accursed symphonies.

"move." chopper was back, in his hand was a ceramic bowl with a green, gooey paste. "go out. i'd call you back, okay?"

if chopped noticed the state zoro was in, he simply chose not to dwell on it. and if zoro had any residual doubts for what kind of a doctor chopper was, he didn't dwell on them either. he caressed your hand one last time and stepped out.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

the swordsman had been pacing around the deck. none of the members were back and it gnawed on his heart. what if they were hurt too? should he go back to see? but how could he leave chopper and you alone here? and what kind of a first mate was he if he cannot even save his own crew?

the world's greatest swordman be damned.

chopper stepped out and zoro looked at the doctor, frantic. chopper gave him a sigh and chased it with a smile, "she's okay."

zoro was not sure if it was the exhaustion, or the relief, or some other feeling his gut had concocted in him without asking. but he crashed down on his knees. his palms felt rough against his face and when he inhaled, he could smell dried blood on them.

"hey." chopper trotted towards him, keeping his paw on the green-haired man's shoulders, "she's okay, really. they missed any vital spots and she didn't lose a lot of blood. she will heal, okay?"

zoro couldn't do anything but just nod along. then, when he had the courage to look away from his hands. he looked at the doctor, finally muttering a faint "thank you."

the reindeer blushed at the compliment, "don't thank me. but you know, once she's better, you should tell her how you feel. this time maybe while she's conscious."

"chopper." the swordsman groaned.

the reindeer shrugged mechanically, "i won't tell anyone what i heard if you promise to take her out on that date."

after much deliberation— having to choose between humiliation at the hand of his crewmates when they discovered his crush or the humiliation from his crush when he finally confessed— he finally gave in. after all, humiliation from one was better than humiliation from seven. especially that fucking cook.

"fine." he grumbled, "i'd take her out."

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

it had been two weeks since you were stabbed. well, you didn't talk to anyone about it, really. but when you drifted off into the wicked embrace of sleep, you would be plagued by the memories. and well, a confession.

it's not like you were pretending to be dead!! your body had simply given up. it was exhausted from the fighting and the not-dying. so, when you were laid on chopper's bed to be patched up, your body had gone slack. but just because your body had gone slack doesn't mean you weren't awake.

it had been two weeks and you hadn't told the green-haired asshole what you had heard. why? maybe cause you thought he would make the first move. or maybe because you weren't quite sure if he actually said those things or if you hallucinated it to dilute the pain.

eitherways, seemed like things between you and the mosshead were the same as they were before the incident. and you were really starting to consider the hallucination excuse. but then—

"hey." zoro quipped up as he came to stand beside you. it was cloudy today, the grey skies churning in anticipation of a storm. the winds were unkind and the sea was malevolent. beautiful nonetheless.

"oh hey." you turned and gave him a small smile. you shifted from one feet to another, pretending as if you weren't terrified of the route this conversation might take, "whats up?"

"uh—" he looked back for a spilt-second and you saw— from the corner of your eyes— chopper hidden behind a bunch of boxes, giving zoro his best death glare. zoro sighed, "so, uh, this is random, i think? but when we dock on the next island tomorrow morning. do like... do you want to go see some new sword-cleaning equipment with me?"

you shouldn't have laughed. but you did.

"what's funny?!" his eyes widened and his cheeks were dusted pink.

"no-nothing." you heaved, closing your eyes. "that's the best excuse you could come up with? sword cleaning equipment?"

"what do you mean 'excuse'? i need some equipment!"

"zoro." you forced open your eyes, your smile still frozen over your lips, "if you want to go out on a date with me, you should say that okay?"

his ears went red and he looked away. you were sure if the weather was quiet, you could hear his heart picking up the pace. clearing his throat, he finally asked, "who told you? chopper?"

"no, dummy." you reached your hand out, taking his calloused palm in yours. your thumb rubbed familiar patterns on his hand, "you did."

"me?" he snapped to look back at you, "me?"

you just gave him a grin, "this reminds me, i did promise you i'd try making sake flavoured mochi. i never did. but again, you said you'd ask frankie to make us fireworks and we're still firework-less. but hey, i forgive you if you forgive me okay?"

his head could have burst open from the sheer pressure on his brain but you continued, "but eitherways, what i really mean is that if you said i love you." you stepped a bit closer, "i'd say i love you too."

your hand let go of his and you chose to walk away, leaving him dumbfounded. when his senses came to him, he ran upto you, "YOU HEARD THAT ALL?!"

"all of it."

"ugh."

"heh, it was kinda cute."

"i thought you were dying, woman."

"in a way, we all already are."

"have you been hanging out with robin too much? god, kill me."

"god doesn't need to. you're already dying."

"i want to die faster."

you took his hand back in yours and pulled him towards yourself. pecking his cheek, you said, "no. we still have to go on that date. i mean, if you ever actually ask me."

the flustered mess that was rorononoa zoro just sighed. accepting his fate, he asked, "well, do you wanna go on that date or what?"

you snickered, "i'll think about it"

"do you live to annoy me?"

"maybe. but you love meee."

"i might change my mind after this."

but despite his words, his fingers stayed gently intertwined with yours. hey, maybe getting stabbed in the stomach wasn't all that bad? (jk, it was very very bad)

a/n: i love writing stoic men are flustered little guys lmaoo. hopefully y'all like this? i've been writing a lot of fluff/semi-angst lately. i wanna write some nsfw content but im so out of ideas. send reqs if you guys have anything in mind!!

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro fluff #zoro fic #zoro imagine #one piece x reader

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guillotine-drop · 4 months

Text

Ranking New Vegas companions by their alcohol tolerance

Arcade - 6/10: Hear me out, Arcade is a fairly big guy and between his genetics and the work he does, he’s bound to have some weight behind him. Do I think he’s going toe to toe with the average Wrangler patron? No, but I do think you could sit him down with a bottle of wine and by the end he’d be juuuuust tipsy enough to follow you into that Nightstalker cave with minimal complaints.

Boone - 4/10: Despite being a miserable boot boy with a dead wife, I think Boone is on the lower end of alcohol tolerance solely because he’s a sniper; I feel as though the job description means that you can’t exactly be swaying with your shots, so his tolerance would be piss poor. You could probably get him to drink a 12 pack with you, but just watch out: he might start showing a human emotion, and that’ll be uncomfortable for both of you.

Cass - 8/10: There’s something to be said about the fact that you need at least 8 Endurance to be able to beat her at the drinking contest to recruit her. Obviously she can hold her liquor, but I WILL dock points for being sloppy about it. (Girl how did you manage to wake up with a random soldier after the battle??? Don’t you know what your mailman looks like???) Share the whiskey but make sure you loop her belt around a pipe or something so she doesn’t run off.

Veronica - 3/10: I love Veronica. I love her so much. I don’t think she can hold her liquor to save her life. I think Ronnie is a ‘3 drinks and she’s out’ kind of girl. That being said, I also think that she could probably get through most of a box of hard seltzers before she starts feeling it, and I think she’d shotgun them with her Power Fist to be funny.

Raul - 10/10: He’s a ghoul, he’s old, and he’s miserable 95% of the time. I think if you handed him a bottle of Dubious Liquid he wouldn’t even hesitate to drink it. I think he’s drank rubbing alcohol just to see what would happen. I think if you give him a totally intact, unopened, top shelf bottle of tequila, he’d have to excuse himself to the other room for a minute. Definitely the one I’d want to go drinking with.

Lily - 15/10: Mamaw’s 7 feet tall and 500 pounds of sheer muscle with a super mutant metabolism, I don’t even think conventional liquor would affect her tbh. I think she’s drinking that Jacobstown Moonshine that melts spoons and eats through glass. I think she could drink a can of turpentine and it would be like a White Claw. Go grandma, but for the love of god not to the bar. I do NOT have the caps for that.

Rex - 6/10: Okay hear me out (again). He’s an old as hell cyber dog who went through multiple owners, he’s probably got more metal than organs, and the last guys who had him were Elvis impersonators who do fuckall all day but day drink and watch each other do cabaret. You look me in the face and tell me that dog hasn’t had more booze pass through his system than the average wastelander. It’s still only a 6/10 because he shouldn’t be getting it, but are you gonna tell him no? Look at that face. And lower your glass.

ED-E - 0/10: Please do not pour liquor into the orb.

#yeah dude #fallout #fnv #new vegas #arcade gannon #craig boone #rose of sharon cassidy #veronica santangelo #raul tejada #lily bowen #rex fallout new vegas #ed e

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yourheartonfire · 2 years

Text

"Hello! If you are receiving this, [medic] has missed their daily deadman switch check in. All client information will be released in 12 hours."

For a second villain stared dumbly at the text on her phone. Then she bolted from her desk towards the door. It was 10:17 - a taxi would be faster than the metro at this hour to get to midtown -

"Hey!" their coworker said, pulling out her airpods. "Where are you going?"

"Medical emergency," the villain snapped and slammed out the office door.

A precious 29 minutes later the villain arrived at the medic's apartment to find a motley gathering of capes and masks shuffling and looking suspiciously at each other in the hall. There was an air of a 2am fire drill - few supers operated on daylight hours, especially not the low to mid-powered supers the medic took on as clients, and the whole event had the awkward feel of meeting your neighbors in their pajamas.

The vigilante wore their normal black of course, but in the daylight the denim was faded and the jacket obviously cheap pleather. On the villainous side there was that grimy little clown themed duo in plain white face paint instead of their full make-up. For the heroes there was that kid goody-two-shoes try-hard - of course she'd rolled up in full uniform, minus the normal tracker camera the Hero Agency mounted on all its people now. And hero, the villain's nemesis, was there too, having jammed on the cowl and gloves over his t-shirt and jeans, just like villain had over her business clothes. He was standing in the doorway, and visibly sighed in relief as villain turned the corner.

"Oh thank God you're here," hero said and wasn't that terrifying that he had nothing flirty or snarky to say about villain's suit.

The goody-two-shoes did a double take. "Her?!" she snapped, even as she rocked her weight nervously from leg to leg. "You were waiting on her?"

"We sure weren't waiting on you to do something useful, cupcake," the female gremlin drawled from where she slouched against her partner on the hall floor, flicking her knife through her fingers.

"Yeah, didn't realize medic was a pediatrician too," the male gremlin giggled.

"Knock it off." The hero stepped aside, opened the door. "I kept them out, kept the scene clean for you."

The goody-two shoes groaned, buried her head in her hands. "This can't be happening."

"Quick, did someone bring a pacifier?" one of the gremlins stage whispered.

The vigilante pointedly stepped over the two clowns, forcing them to jerk backwards or take a combat boot to the face. "We're assuming this is about us," they breathed to the hero and villain. "What if they got hit by a bus? Dropped dead of a heart attack?"

"No reports from the hospitals or morgues of unidentified persons matching medic's description," Villain said curtly. "Checked on the way here. No communication to or amongst medic's friends and family about an emergency."

Goody-two-shoes blinked. "You... know [medic]'s real identity?"

"And that is why we were waiting on her," hero said patiently. "Now everyone shut up."

The villain curtly nodded acknowledgement, stepped into medic's apartment though it would not be necessary. The medic had disappeared from the street, at some point after they'd used their debit card to buy their usual black coffee at 7:04am and at some point before they'd failed to badge in at work by 8:15am. Still, the villain did a quick scan. The little homemade exam/treatment area had been freshly cleaned, the trash emptied. The tablet and laptop were missing from their docking station, but the go-bag was still in place under the desk.

"Y'all are gonna give me a minute with [medic] when we find them," the male gremlin drawled. "This 12 hour deadline is bullshit. They said we'd have 24 hours if they missed a check-in."

"You're not getting shit," the vigilante growled around the toothpick they were chomping.

"And they shortened the deadline because I told them to," villain said, breathing in the smell of antiseptic and bleach. She'd also told the medic to set the deadman switch to every 8 hours, not every 24, but the others didn't need to know that.

"You what?!" said the gremlins and the goody-two-shoes in unison. The vigilante choked. Even hero looked startled.

"I advised them to consider how long they could hold out under torture to reveal the abort protocol," said villain, using a tongue depressor to lift a latex glove from the kitchen trash. "I'd say medic was pretty generous. Speaking of generous, I've seen enough." She pointed to hero. "Last person you referred to medic and when?"

Hero tilted his head, realization blooming. "You," he said to villain. "Nine months ago."

One of the gremlins pointed to vigilante. "We did you! We did you last Arbor Day!"

Vigilante sighed and jabbed a thumb at goody-two-shoes. "The kid," they sighed. "I dunno when. Summer?"

The goody-two shoes swallowed. "Um," she said very quietly.

As one, the group turned to the kid. She froze, eyes going wide behind the mask. "It was - I didn't mean to!" she cried, backing up. "Just - he noticed the scar and realized it wasn't sanctioned medical care and I - and I - !"

"Okay, slow down," said hero gently, shooting a warning look to the gremlins who were both holding knives and on their feet now. "Who did you tell?"

The goody-two shoes' shoulders collapsed. She looked miserably at her toes. "Superhero. Yesterday."

Everyone flinched.

"You idiot," the vigilante breathed.

"We're going to kill you," the female gremlin said to the goody-two shoes. The male cracked his knuckles. The hero took a deep breath and pushed the goody-two-shoes behind him -

"Save that for 12 hours from now," villain said briskly and dropped the glove back in the trash. "We've got just under 11 hours to find where Superhero's got medic stashed and mount a rescue before our identities and medical records are splashed all over the internet. And frankly, I think it's going to take every single one of us to meet that deadline."

The six of them looked at each other in the shadows of the hall. The hero mustered a grin. "That's why we're all here, right?" he said. "Instead of hiding or running. Medic's saved all of us- now we save them."

"They didn't save me, I wasn't dying," one of the gremlins muttered. But no one walked away.

"Right," said villain. "Let's do this."

#my fiction #hero x villain #hero and villain #medic #awkward team dynamics #love a heroic/villainous team up #evil hero #100 #300 #500 #1000 (!)#...5000 ?!?

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bokutosbiceps · 5 months

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‘tis the season | one piece

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji x gn!reader | fluff | ~2.1k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: welcome to my xmas special for the one piece boys !! OKAY before anyone comes @ me for not choosing a food related activity for luffy, pls know that y’all would not be able to decorate shit. he would eat all of the ingredients and/or you would have to lock him out of the kitchen. some of these are loooooooooong. pls enjoy 🎄

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid and the kid pirates will make a competition out of chopping down a christmas tree to put on the bow of their ship. it happens every single year, and kid didn’t used to participate, but when he started dating you, he wanted to be the one to provide you with a tree to decorate and admire.

you always enjoyed watching kid get riled up over something as small as a christmas tree, though. killer, a man with taste, would always find the perfect tree, then kid would lay his claim to it, boasting about how he had an eye for things like this.

this year, it was different, though. kid seemed to be more calm about it than usual and it made the whole crew restless until they reached the island where they'd always look for the trees.

kid’s face stretched into a calm grin at seeing the island approaching, remaining still till the ship was docked and the plank was thrown onto land.

“you comin’ with me?” kid asks, snaking a hand around your waist while he watches the rest of the kid pirates disperse on the island.

“of course!” you happily jump onto kid’s back and point out all the different trees you see and like. kid just shakes his head at you and keeps moving, knowing exactly what he's looking for.

he reaches the edge of the forest and sets you down, shrugging off his coat and grabbing an axe from his belt. it takes him one swing each to fell two small trees.

“will you take those back to the ship, doll? make em look nice.” kid asks, a mischievous smile still settled onto his lips. you don't ask questions and tug the two small trees back to the ship to start decorating them. they likely won't be in the running for the trees the crew will vote on to keep so you figure they’ll look nice to keep in the corners of the captain’s quarters.

one by one, the kid pirates start to make their way back to the ship. and one by one, they trim and prune their trees to make em look especially nice and voteable.

“where’s kid?” killed settlers next to you on the port side, looking out at the forest. you're leaning on the railing and watching the tree line for any speck of red.

“i dunno! he told me to bring back those runt trees to decorate but i haven't seen him since.”

you speak too soon, because not even ten seconds later, you see kid emerge from the tree line, his metal arm gripping what looks to be a twenty foot tall tree.

“i think we all know which one we're keepin'!” kid spreads his arms and looks around at his crew. “right? captain’s orders!” kid grins and gestures toward his tree. the rest of the crew doesn't even argue, they just start stripping the trees of their branches to use as tinder for later.

“so? impressed?” kid approaches you, looking proud as ever.

“bigger isn't always better, kid.” you tease, lightly punching him on the shoulder. he scoops you up into his arms and presses a kiss to your chin.

“oh, you know you love it when it's bigger, baby.”

monkey d luffy is an expert at building snow men because he tries his best to make it look like him! every single year, as soon as there’s enough snow on the ground, he’ll crack his knuckles and start rolling snow into big spheres. the very first time he did this, he made three huge balls of snow and ended up making something resembling more of a snowy caterpillar than an actual human. but he’s learned from his mistakes and is now a master at his craft.

“luffy, can you please put on some gloves? you’re gonna get frostbite!” you call out to him as you watch him roll snow around on the deck. his cheeks and nose are red and he’s sniffling as he shapes the snow into spheres, a big grin on his face despite the freezing temperatures.

“does rubber even freeze?” luffy muses, thinking he’s out of earshot from you and tapping his chin cutely. you smile and shake your head.

“yes, it does!” you say, knowing full well that it doesn’t. but you're hoping your boyfriend might listen to your logic nonetheless. “so that means you can, too!”

“eh, i’ll be fine! i need to be able to feel the snow between my fingertips, anyways!” luffy grins at you and gives you a shivering thumbs up. “you can’t look till i’m done, okay? and no peeking!”

you raise your hands in surrender and join robin and nami in the warm library upstairs while you wait for luffy to finish up with his masterpiece.

almost an hour later, luffy bursts into the library with an excited ready! and wraps his arms around you, pulling you up and out of the warmth and into the cold. once you're close enough to the deck, he releases you and moves his hands over your eyes.

“m’kay, one…two…surprise!” luffy removes his hands from your face and smiles brightly at you as he watches you take in his snow artwork.

there are two snow people, one with a straw hat, and another with features similar to yours. you smile and hug yourself, shivering slightly. luffy notices and drapes himself over your shoulders, effectively warming you up and hearing your cheeks up from both his embrace and his sweet gesture.

“it’s us!” he says proudly, pointing to the way that he situated the twig hands of each snow person to make it look like they’re holding hands. you giggle at his thoughtfulness and kiss the tip of his very red and very cold and very cute nose.

roronoa zoro allows his eyes to follow you around the aquarium bar below the sunny’s deck as you put the finishing touches on two mugs of warm apple cider you made while zoro’s been napping by the fireplace. you smile and settle down next to zoro, sitting cross legged and sipping your drink while you use zoro’s chest to prop up your book.

zoro props himself up on one of his elbows and you move your book back into your lap, not taking your eyes off of the words. zoro takes a long swig of the cider, humming in enjoyment at the way the sweet notes of the rum you'd spiked the cider with hit his tongue.

“what're you doin’?” zoro asks, peering up at you with a slight frown on his face and placing his now empty mug behind him.

“what does it look like?” you answer, turning a page of your book and giving zoro a teasing smile. he just grunts and plucks the book out of your fingers. “zoro, what—”

zoro quickly and carefully, so as to not spill your mug of warm cider, grabs you by the hips and places you on top of his chest. you purse your lips and glare down at your boyfriend, whose eyes are now closed and lips curled into quiet satisfaction.

you decide not to say anything and instead rest your cheek against zoro’s chest. he brings his hands up to rub his fingers over your spine, stopping at the small of your back.

“attagirl.”

trafalgar d water law decides that his least favorite thing in the world to do is going to a christmas market on christmas eve. who could choose a worse day to go to a christmas market? bepo. and since the bear was the one who had begged law to allow them to dock at the sea bound christmas market, law had reluctantly agreed. bepo had made a pretty good argument after all.

“maybe you could find something for y/n-chan while we’re there?” bepo had said, hoping to sweeten the deal with possibly finding something nice for you. you’d only been with law for a little less than a year, so this is your first holiday season as a couple, and law had never really thought of whether or not you’d like something for the holidays.

law is dragged around the market, stopping only at stalls where he notices cute little things that he thinks you might like. he shoves his pride down his own throat to hold up various little knick knacks with a do you think she’d like something like this? to bepo.

law, with a little help from bepo, eventually decides on a tiny little mouse soldier statue, complete with the year and name of the island. when he holds it out to you, his hat covering his eyes and his eyes aimed at the snow piled around where you stood, all you can do is giggle.

you take the little statue from law, turn it over in your hands once, then twice, and smile. law feels like he's going to explode.

“well…do you…?”

“do i what?” you inch toward law, ducking your head to try and get a glimpse of his face, which is still hidden beneath his hat.

law frowns, turning his head to continue avoiding eye contact with you, and clears his throat. “do you like it?”

you look back down at the statue that your boyfriend so carefully and thoughtfully picked out for you. you tilt your head up and quickly flick the brim of law’s hat, tilting it up as well.

“hmm, no.” you say, noticing the way law’s shoulders tense up. you press a kiss intertwined with a smile to his lips before speaking again. “i love it.”

usopp looks forward to the holidays each year because that means he’ll be decorating the sunny with christmas lights till it rivals a fully lit city on the sea!

all day, usopp is crawling around in the rafters, stringing up lights and hanging his homemade decorations on the masts. he had enlisted you to pass him various nails and push pins and tools to help him hang up the decorations, but you'd been playing catch with him the whole time.

usopp is an incredibly intelligent man, but he's clumsy. hours of missteps and slips and whoops had your blood pressure and heart rate through the roof and you don't know how much more you can take.

usopp’s smile is wide as he plugs the two ends of the string lights together, his eyes shining in the reflection of the newly decorated Thousand Sunny.

the ship is ablaze with light, and you can't help but smile yourself. the masts glow in a soft and golden light, the snow on the deck is illuminated by the reflection of small and twinkling star decorations that usopp made just for the crow’s nest. there are ornaments and weaves of pine hanging off of every place possible, giving the ship nice red and green hues.

usopp comes up and wraps his arms around you from behind, giving you a gentle and affectionate squeeze.

“pretty, right? now all the pirates in the grand line will see the great captain usopp’s ship from miles away!” usopp makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hand and turns to grin at you proudly.

you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “looks amazing, captain usopp.”

vinsmoke sanji closes off the kitchen on christmas eve, after christmas eve dinner, to allow for some privacy while the two of you decorate christmas cookies for the rest of the crew. sanji usually doesn't let anyone else in the crew help out in the kitchen, unless it's you. he likes feeling close to you, his favorite person, when he's in his favorite place, while he's doing his favorite thing.

“no competition, here, okay?” sanji’s pressed up against your back and his hands are on your shoulders when he skims a kiss to the nape of your neck. "let's just have a nice time together, hm?"

he smiles at you before he sets to decorating the cookies with you, jazz playing softly through the radio and sanji making easy conversation or praising your decorations.

you nudge sanji’s shoulder with your own and nod your head down at the cookie you're holding. sanji’s eyes light up when he sees your initials written in blue icing, separated by a pink heart.

“y/n-chan, my love!” sanji cries, throwing his arms around your neck and hugging you tightly. he cups your face and kisses you slowly, ignoring the creaking of the kitchen door and light footsteps creeping closer to the two of you.

you open your eyes just in time to see luffy swipe the cookie you had just shown sanji and make a run for it. sanji follows your eyes and stares at luffy’s back in horror.

you look up to tell sanji that it's no big deal, you can just decorate another one, but sanji is already running after luffy; he's desperate to save the cookie you had decorated with your names on it.

“luffy, get the hell back here so i can put your ass down the garbage disposal!”

#one piece #eustass kid #kid #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #trafalgar law #law #law x reader #usopp #usopp x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji x reader

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 8 months

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Imagine annoying the shit outta the red hair pirates

I can't believe I'm doing a stupider one piece version of the Who's on first bit

Shanks: okay, are you listening?

You: *looks him dead in the eye, hearing him just fine*, huh?

Shanks: *lets out a tired sigh* very well there are five marine outposts on this island, they're in the shape of the world government's symbol. I'm talking the center building, which is the unit's headquarters, where most of the ranked marines reside. Benn will take the southern outpost. Lucky Roux will take the western outpost and then Yassop will take the eastern one, and you will take the northern base with most of the crew.

You: Okay

Yassop: *not convinced you were listening* who's taking the eastern outpost?

You: Roux's taking the western outpost.

Yassop: WHO not Roux!

You: here? *Points at the map*

Shanks: Yes, up here

You: But you said Yassop over here at the Eastern outpost?

Shanks: *presses his forehead against the table and gently bangs his head on it.* Yes, I did. Fine, then what about here then? *points at the northern outpost.

You: Benn's at the southern outpost.

Shanks: *groans* can you even hear me?

You: *laughs* yes, you take the central base, Roux takes the western out post, Yassop takes the eastern, Benn attacks the southern one, and I attack the northern with the crew.

Yassop: You actually were listening

You: I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.

Shanks: because you act and look like you're not listening.

You: I know, I do it mostly for my own amusement.

Yassop: *puts you in headlock and gives you a noogie* You're lucky you're cute.

At port

Benn: *finalizing the list of supplies needed, and who is getting them*

You: *singing an onomatopoeia of the instrumentals of topic by the champs* wa wewaaaAaAaAa wah wa wewaaaAaAaAa wah *hip checks Benn into the water* tequila wa wewaaaAaAaAa wah *dances in place*

Benn: God damn it (y/n)! *Climbs back on the dock* You're gonna be paired with me and the boss.

You: Noo!

Benn: Yes! And in the meantime you get to assist me our supplies. *hooks his hands under your armpits and picks you up and deposits you on a chair next to him.*

You: *whines*

Benn: do you know why I do this, managing the cargo? So we don't starve.

You: And because your needs were never met when you were a child, and so now you go out of your way to take care of the needs of others while actively neglecting yourself?

Benn: ... Okay look, besides all of that, it needs to get done.

You: What ever lets you sleep at night, sweetheart.

Benn: I loathe you sometimes.

You: *winks and smooches at him*

The Crew: *just finished doing maintenance after a storm damaged the ship and are packing up their supplies*

You: *Hiding in a cabinet and makes the water drop noise with your mouth*

The Crew: *freezes*

Shanks: *dangerously close to yelling*

Yassop: God damn it, I don't have the energy to look around for some stray leak tonight.

Hongo: suck it up, we gotta find it before it leads to flooding.

You: *makes the noise twice again*

Lucky Roux: Especially considering the pantry is below this.

You: *makes the noise again, and tries not to laugh*

Benn: It sounds like it's coming from in here *opens the cabinet you're hiding in* .... (y/n) why are you up here? Y'know what, I don't wanna know, do you see the leak?

You: No *makes the noise while looking him dead in the eyes*

Benn: You little! *grabs you by your ankle, pulls you out, and lifts you by off the ground.*

You: *can't stop laughing*

Benn: I found the leak.

Shanks: what? No.

Benn: *shakes you* make the noise brat, or I'll spank you.

You: Promise?

Benn: Do it again.

You: *tries several times, but fails because you can't stop smiling and has to compose yourself before you can make the noise again.*

Yassop, and Lucky Roux: Can we throw them in the brig for the night.

Shanks: You may not, but we can make them do an idiot check to see if we missed any leaks while the rest of us go to bed.

You: That's fair.

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bellewintersroe · 9 months

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Lance Stroll x HornerDaughter! BFF Smut.

Ok this is loosely based of an audio linked by @2-fast-2-curious because she’s doing gods work out here with her F1 audio masterlist, I’m not sure if I should link the actual audio I don’t wanna steal anything, but anyway here’s some Lance smut so 18+. warning: explicit content, intoxication, funny drunken arguments, masturbation, unprotected sex, unexpected sex, creampie, oral, admission of feelings? probs not a warning but yolo. I LOVE writing as reader being Horner’s daughter it’s just fun ok. Reader and Lance are besties and have been for a while but they reunite and something clicks between them, anyway enjoy…

Partying it up in Monaco was probably the pinnacle of my life. Nothing could get better than being 22 and dancing on a yacht with all of your closest friends. Promiscuous Girl was blaring through the speakers as the yacht began its way back to dock in the harbour. It was a Saturday night and the expensive town of Monte Carlo was bustling. Vibrant nights exploded through the night sky and vibrations of all kinds of music spread through my body.

“Should you be up there?!” Lance asked, one of my closest friends as he stared up to me on the back of the drivers platform. “No.” I giggled, “c’mon, let’s get you down.” He held his hands out, helping me down off the side. “We’re going back to Jaspers, are you coming?” He questioned as I jumped, a little uneasy on my feet as the boat rocked slightly.

“We’re going back to Jaspers? And not a club?!” I almost burst out laughing, out of everywhere to choose from we were going back to a house party- equivalent to afters? “Yeah, I don’t know why.” Lance shook his head, watching me for a second before scanning around the boat. When he turned away I stole a glimpse before mimicking his action of watching all our friend. The good majority of us had known each other for a good 10+ years, now we were all back in Monaco to celebrate nothing particular, it felt like a school reunion. “Aren’t you glad to be back with everyone?” I then nudged the Canadian who I’d known since being a child. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird. Everything feels normal again.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” I faintly muttered, gazing into the distance. “You’re so corny, you know!” I then teased, jabbing his side. “Hey, you asked!” He playfully knocked me back as we engaged in a gentle scuffle. “You’re the one person I hoped wasn’t coming to this party!” He joked as I gasped, “and you’re the one person I want to push overboard!” With a gentle shove back, Lance giggled cheekily, holding my arms still.

“Get your dirty hands off me. I don’t know where they’ve been.” I teased, firmly crossing my arms across my chest. “You don’t even wanna know, miss Horner.”

“You’re right, I don’t… I’m gonna go get a drink before we dock, you coming?” “Sure…”

Soon enough we docked, and the main bulk of us went to Jasper’s house. I mainly lingered around my closest girls, piling into the bathroom, sitting in the bathtub, having deep conversations in the tub one minute and then dancing the next. It was just like how it felt when we were all 16. I’d always eagerly tried to recreate my teenage years, missing the freedom and carefree attitude I always had, so the whole nice was like a free cure for any of my problems. At one point, Jasper and Kiran, butted heads. They were way too drunk, and you just know when their shirts off and their ego’s were inflated, there’d be trouble. “Nah bro, you’re still the same as school.” Jasper waved him off, Kiran frowning, squint growing as he got progressively more angry. Kiran and Jasper went to the same international school in the south of France, they always fought. They’d fight over girls, alcohol, cars, money, and when there was nothing to fight over they’d fight over nothing.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The Italian responded as a few of us gathered, waiting for the entertainment to start. “You’re still a prick mate, you act like a fucking 16 year old.” “Oh, here we go…” Somebody muttered from besides me, I glanced up to see Lance and a smile grew. “What are they fighting over now?”

“Erm, something to do with shoes and alcohol bottles, I don’t even know.” I waved it off. “Nice.” Lance, along with about six more of us stood and watched the argument progress until the men were almost head butting one another.

“Maybe I should stop this now…” Lance comically sighed. “Or maybe I should wait for it to get physical.” Within seconds it got physical. “Oh shit.” Lance flew forwards and others attempted to break up the fight. It was comical, drunken fights always were so dramatic, it made me laugh. I stood there and laughed out loud, I must’ve looked so unhelpful but when masculine men got all fragile and crazy it was funny. The fight caused the party to end, probably at the right time, many people were staying there, but with my family’s house nearby, I thought it would be best just to head back. “Oh you’re leaving?!” My friend Molly exclaimed.

“I’m going to bed.” I yawned, my sobriety taking over and exhausting me. “What? You’re not staying over here?!” She exclaimed. “I was gonna go to my bed.” I was then met with a chorus of complaints pleading me to stay as it would be ‘just like old times’. What I didn’t expect was to be stuffed on a sheet on the floor in a room where the air-con was blasting me to death. I was in my underwear and one of Jasper’s shirts, trying to bunch up as much blanket as possible but Naomi, who I slept besides, rolled over and took them all. After an hour or so the sleep wouldn’t come, so I excused myself (silently) and just stood in the hallway shuddering slightly. I suppose it wasn’t too late to go home, it was nearing 4:30AM and sleep would be non existent, unless I found somebody who actually had a bed to themselves. I turned lightly seeing the door to Lance’s room on the bottom floor open, swiftly I patted down the stairs with a quiet giggle knowing I could bug him enough to sleep in the bed. We used to share all the time when we were younger, so to me it wasn’t such a big deal.

Creeping in, I nudged open the door to see Lance’s face lit up with the reflection of his face. “Hey..” he whispered, a smile growing as he dropped his phone to one side. “Can I come in?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. Shut the door behind you.” He pushed himself up a little to reveal he was shirtless. Again, no big deal, right? I giggled, closing the door behind me as he patted the bed besides him. “Couldn’t sleep?” He questioned. “No, I was on the floor and Naomi was hogging the covers.” I tucked my legs up under me on the bed, facing him directly. “Unlucky. You cold? Come get under.” The Canadian hushed, budging up as I felt the relief of slipping under the blankets, warm from where he’d been laying.

“Why’re you awake?” I then questioned pulling them all the way up over my shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep. Hey, this is like old times again isn’t it?” He nudged softly, the warm of his arm brushing against the cool of mine with a hiss. “You’re so cold, c’mere.” He wrapped his arm around me, sinking down into the sheets as we borderline cuddled. “Now it’s like old times.” I pointed out as he giggled again. “Oh yeah? We used to do this a lot, didn’t we?” Expect now it felt different. Lance and I were no longer awkward and frigid 16 year olds, he had muscles, I had boobs, there was extra parts pushing against extra parts and it made me feel… different.

“I know, back when we were both frigid.” I whispered knocking into his chest which my arm laid across. Lance let out a laugh a little too loud in return. “We both were weren’t we..” He then sighed as I let out a giggle before a comfortable silence took over us. “This bed is so much comfier.” I muttered, staring into the darkness of the bedroom. Truthfully, there was something a lot more intimate about sharing a bed with Lance all these years later. “You’re a lot comfier than you used to be.” I nuzzled up, my chest pressing up against his side. “Me? Really, why?” “Muscles.” I squeezed at his bicep playfully as he swatted me away when the action must’ve been ticklish. “Yeah well, you’ve got tits now, didn’t you used to be like a waterboard?!” He fired back playfully as I choked out a gasp, attempting to push at him but his hands grasped mine.

“I had small ones, thank you very much!” Lance laughed at my response. “Oh, what the fuck.” He quickly spoke, arm falling back around me and resting softly on my upper back. “What?” I giggled, pushing up. Our faces were super close and for the first time in forever I felt something spark up inside of me. Lance’s smile softened as his eyes roamed over my face before down to my chest.

“Who’s shirt is that?” “My boyfriends.” I lied as Lance shifted quickly. “I’m kidding. It’s Jaspers!” My eyes widened. “Oh.” There was an evident relief on his face and in that moment I felt my knee knock against his leg. “I had no shirt to sleep in, but it’s kinda… uncomfortable.” The shirt was scratchy, it was drowning me and I most definitely couldn’t sleep in it. “Why don’t you take it off?” Lance glanced up and down to my propped up state. His words were quick and I could see the slight worry that twitched in his eye after he answered. “Take it off? Now?” My breath was hitched as the two of us stared back to each other.

“Yeah…” Lance didn’t break eye contact as my lips stretched out into a grin at his seriousness. “What? Shut the fuck up, I’m being serious.” He joked as I smirked down, fiddling with the hem of it.

“But I’m not wearing anything under…” “Oh you’re not?” Lance seemed on edge, eyes constantly dropping down. The peaks of my nipples were pressed up against the fabric and if he looked close I swore he could see the outline of my piercings.

“No…” I whispered gently as his free hand slid forwards, fiddling with the end of my shirt. It seemed to happen in an instant that my top was off and my breasts were exposed. I giggled, covering them slightly as I laid back, Lance propped to the side of me. “Don’t go all shy!” He chuckled. “I’m not, I’m not.” I pushed them together slightly, feeling Lances eyes fixated on them. I knew I was getting turned on, I wondered if he felt the same? There was an undeniable tension between us and I was shocked that we’d actually crossed the barrier of being ‘just friends’. “You’ve got really good tits.” His voice lowered, as I scanned over his body. “Your turn.” Except the only thing he was wearing was his underwear. With a smile, Lance pushed his hands under the hem of his Calvin Kleins, freeing himself but he was hidden under the duvet. “What’re we doing right now?” He quickly laughed to himself as I giggled, arching my back slightly. “Is this weird?” He then muttered, hand disappearing under the covers. “I don’t know, is it?”

“No… what’d you- uh, want me to do?” Lance quietly asked, almost shyly. “I don’t want you to do anything.” I teased, giggling as I glanced down. “You just said take them off!” By the looks of it they were already half off. “I know!” “Fuck it… now I’m fully naked and you’re not!” He pointed out. “You want me to take my underwear off?” My heart was beating rapidly as I laid against the pillow, gazing up to him. His hand brushed against my naked waist, resulting in me swallowing harshly.

“Yeah, I want you to..” his voice was so gentle I barely heard it. I looked down, my hands sliding under the band of my thongs feeling his hand meeting mine and pushing them off, exposing me completely. I felt the blood rush to my core as I squeezed my legs together, looking back up to him with a smile.

“What do you wanna do now?” I lightly asked. “I dunno- you wanna kiss me?” To this I burst out laughing. “Fine! We won’t kiss!” He chuckled, placing a hand on my stomach.

“Wouldn’t that make it weird?” I dumbly asked, becoming lost at the sensation of his large hand sprawled across my stomach and hip bone. “What and this wouldn’t?” He muttered, fingers grazing over my skin as I inhaled deeply.

“No.” I swallowed, glancing down to where Lance’s hand had slipped off me and onto himself. “What’re you having a wank or something?” I teased. “No, I’m just… I’m fucking hard.” He admitted as I felt a blush rise on my face.

“Why?”

“Why? Cos you’re naked and fucking hot as fuck right now.” He spoke as I smiled, “you wanna touch yourself?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Lance borderline whined as I felt his movements begin under the covers. I bit down on my finger, giggling deviously as butterflies erupted in my lower stomach. I didn’t think I’d been this turned on in a long long time- and it was over one of my lifelong friends? I always knew Lance was hot, but not this hot.

“Touch yourself as well, it’s only fair.” He panted out a laugh as my fingers slipped down. The minute I made contact with my clit I felt relief, applying pressure to my throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” Lance uttered, mesmerised as his eyes wandered over me, his jaw slightly hung slack as he jittered as his hand moved a little quicker.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” I snickered, hearing him hum out a laugh. “Can I touch you?” He then questioned, making me slightly nervous. “Yeah.” God, I wanted him to, the room felt red hot with tension. Lance’s hand slid over my tits, giving them a squeeze slightly before moving down to my pussy. He didn’t waste anytime, I was getting wetter by the second, and when his fingers touched me I let out a soft gasp at the sensation. My best friend was touching me so intimately, the more I watched him, the more shocked I was, it felt fucking great, the adrenaline was pumping inside of me and I felt desperate for Lance. I was trying to keep quiet, and also keep my composure, but Lance was too fucking good at this. “I need to taste you, fuck.” He shifted, sliding to the end of the bed as I covered my mouth with my arm, choking out a moan.

Lance was like a fucking god as he ate me out. His mouth was so warm against my pussy and he physically moaned as he licked and sucked over my clit. “Fuck- I can’t believe you’re so good at this.”

“Yeah… you wanna return the favour?” He teased. “Yeah.” I seriously whined. “Yeah?” He kissed my upper pubic bone as I lifted my head, nodding with a gentle breath. Lance switched our positions around, scraping my hair back gently as I smiled, shyly moving forwards.

“Is this weird?” I asked, his cock literally in my hand. “No.” He seemed tense. “Just go slow or I might bust too quick.”

“Really?” I slowly tugged on his member, teasing over the smooth skin as he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, don’t laugh.” He nudged my shoulder as I giggled, moving down and wrapping my lips around his cock. Hearing Lance moan as I pleasured him with my mouth was something I never expected. It felt so dirty and raunchy, it turned me on even more. The way his arms trembled as he gripped the bed sheets, sliding his fingers through my hair, or when he pleaded for me to slow down.

“Fuck, don’t cum!” I laughed, swiping my thumb against the corner of my mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that, oh my god…” he sounded so turned on, his voice was low and sultry, pulling me by the arms on top of him. “I wanna fuck you, can I fuck you?” He was wide eyes, scanning over my own.

“Yeah.” I was breathless, reaching for his cock as I eased it inside myself, the two of us letting out a sigh in pleasure. It had been so long since anybody had fucked me, and the fact it was Lance made everything feel 10x better.

“Oh my god.” I moaned as I bounced ontop of him. “Oh fuck, baby, bounce on my cock, like that.”

“Lance.” I whined in response as he hummed, holding onto either side of my hips. “You feel so good.” His head tipped back with a moan as I lifted my hips, bouncing on my knees on top of his cock.

“So do you.” I panted, the sound of our skin slapping and the bed creaking filling the room. We continued like that for a few more minutes, Lance pulled me down, our faces inches apart as he fucked into me. “Fuck, I’ve needed this so bad.” He groaned, his hips slapping into mine as I let out an open mouthed moan, his hand sliding up the back of my head.

“Kiss me, fuck y/n, kiss me.” Lance begged as I pressed my lips against his firmly. It felt so good, the kiss was so heated and desperate, it spurred the sex on further.

“Fuck, my legs.” I groaned, “lazy.” Lance teased as I scoffed. “Shut up or I’ll stop.” He smirked, flipping us around as the bed creaked under out movements. There was movement outside the other room, footsteps drawing closer and moving past the room as Lance and I stared back to each other in amusement. “Sh, sh, sh.” He hushed, looking towards the door. I giggled, bucking my hips up playfully.

“They’re going to the bathroom.” He whispered, turning down and laughing, purposefully pinning his hips up against mine to the bed. The movements started again, slowly. I could hear whoever was in the toilet flushing the toilet and the run of the tap, until we heard the bedroom door close again it was a mission to stay quiet. “Fuck me properly now, fuck me.” I pleaded with Lance, wrapping my arms over his shoulder as he spread my legs wider, beginning to thrust into me once again. Our quiet moans filled the room, his cock pushed up deep inside of me as his balls slapped against my skin.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, oh my god.” He laughed as I giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. “I wanted you for so long.” He admitted as I let out another moan, muffling it with another kiss. “Fuck me, fuck me.” The sex continued, in doggy, spooning, back in missionary, it felt like we were at it for ages.

“Can you cum like this?” Lance questioned, voice on edge as he held me close. “Not like this.” I admitted, he didn’t hesitate to move down and pleasure me with his mouth again.

It didn’t take long before he was pushing me over the edge, giving me the first ever orgasm from oral ever. I felt like I was in bliss, and after a few more thrusts inside of me, Lance was jerking himself over my stomach and tits, spilling his cum with a bitten back groan.

“Fuck, fuck.” The Canadian man tossed his head back, falling forwards on top of me, kissing me deeply as I hummed against his lips, scraping my hand through his messy hair. “You were so fucking good.” I cooed as he let out a husky hum, continuing to keep his lips against mine.

“So were you. Fuck, I’ve been in love with you for so long…” his words startled me, a warmth spreading through me as I gasped out. “Have you?” He pushed up on top of me, lingering there as he nodded shyly.

“I think- I think I love you too…”

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