#him: a 6 foot tall broad man

[august126]

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

[lonewolfwriting89]

COVERT RAINFALL

COVERT RAINFALL 

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon snatched your wrist and pulled you into the shower with him, one hand covering your mouth while his body pressed yours into the corner and out of sight.

Warnings – NSFW. Smut. 

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: This is my first time venturing into/writing for another fandom. Hope you all enjoy - please be kind - lots of love xoxo

———

Glancing quickly to the left and right, you scurried across the sharp gravel, praying that no one would be watching in the dim, dusky light. With a quick half-shuffle, you quietly opened the door to the men's showers and slipped inside, thankful that only two cubicles were being used – and you knew one had to be his - Simon Riley - Ghost. 

Sneaking down the short corridor, you prayed your footfalls wouldn't give you away, hopeful that the sound of gushing water would mask any noises you might inadvertently make. Your presence here was forbidden, and to get caught would surely end your military career. And if you were caught in his shower, it would mean the end of not one career, but two. 

However, after five long months of trembling at the sound of his deep, gravelly voice and aching for the feel of those rough hands to touch your body, you had decided to take matters into your own hands.

You spotted the distinctive stripes of his towel at the opposite end of the unit from where another bundle of possessions lay. Oh, how many times you had laid in your bed and stroked yourself, imagining that same towel being wrapped around his hips, envying it being lucky enough to dry those rivulets of water from his sculpted body.

Slipping out of your t-shirt and shorts, you quickly pushed them under his pile of clothes, before pulling back the edge of the shower curtain to slip inside. You stood there, one foot raised to step over the ledge, naked and vulnerable, your breath frozen in your chest. 

Your lieutenant was standing there under the sporadic pulse of the spray, head down, water pounding the back of his neck, dog tags softly jingling under the force of water. Your eyes followed that cascading water down his tall, broad body, your mouth drying at the delicious picture being burned into your memory.

The cessation of water from the other cubicle, most likely Soap, made your inadvertent gasp of pleasure audible, and Ghost’s head snapped upright, his deep murky eyes nailing you in place as they travelled leisurely down the length of your exposed body. At the sound of the other curtain being slid aside and recognising the danger of you being caught out in the open, Simon snatched your wrist and pulled you into the shower with him, one hand covering your mouth while his body pressed yours into the corner and out of sight.

Tense with the fear of discovery, you listened as MacTavish collected his things, humming loudly to himself, and you both heaved a sigh of relief at hearing the door shut behind him. Your lieutenant glared down at you, the water dripping off his nose doing nothing to lessen the fire in his eyes.

"What the fuck d’ya think you're doing?", he hissed, crowding you back even tighter into the corner. At almost 6”3’ he towered over you, making you shrink further.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I just--", you got no further before his voice sliced through yours, deadly sharp, a tone you’d only heard him use in the most dire of circumstances.

"Spit it out Y/N, I don't have all damn day”.

You closed your eyes, mortified, and wished the floor would open up under you, or that you would somehow miraculously fit down the drain. Far from pleasuring this man, as had been your intentions, you had obviously blown any possible chance you could ever have with him. Fighting back tears of humiliation, you pushed against his shoulders, averting your eyes from the wrath in his, silently begging him to just let you go.

Snarling his displeasure, Ghost grabbed your forearms and shoved you back in the corner, taking no notice of the wet hair flopping into your eyes. Effortlessly lifting you up, he tried to force you to look directly at him but you ducked your head, trying desperately to hide those tears, but there was nowhere to go. Your cheeks burning, you trembled against him, the forgotten water still pouring over you both in a lukewarm caress.

With your eyes clenched tight, you could feel the force of his burning gaze, but it was a shock when he wrapped both arms around you, hauling you up against him and ravaging you with the deepest, darkest kiss you could have imagined. Tipped with rage, tinted with fear and full of frustration, it buckled your knees and made you sag against his hard body, shock and ecstasy coursing through you in equal measures. Running your hands up his tattooed arms, over his shoulders and down his water-slicked back, you pressed against him, your tongue tangling with his as you shared ragged, panting breaths.

Ripping your mouth from his, you struggled to breathe, fighting the silvery dots swimming around your vision. Fisting his hand in your hair, he pressed his body closer to yours and plastered his lips to yours again. Moaning, you slid your hands up the plane of his solid back, caressing each bold bulge of muscle, simultaneously lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. Your knee slammed against the side of the cubicle with a loud bang, and cursed under your breath, trying to shift into a different position. You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his shoulders and rubbing the tips of your nails through his damp, dark blonde hair and banged an elbow on the wall so hard your fingertips tingled.

Every time you tried to shift, tried to wrap yourself around him, you ended up making more noise, noise which was ill-afforded given your location. You whined in frustration, mewling your displeasure at being unable to get closer to him.

"Slow down love”, he murmured against your lips.

The sound of his voice soothed you instantly, your mind automatically obeying the higher-ranking soldier, while your body instantly reacted to the velvet roughness of Simon’s command. With a soft sigh, you melted against him, gasping in pleasure as his kisses gentled; nipping little tastes of your lips, sexy, sweeping strokes of his tongue. You pressed yourself tight against him, feeling the water pool between your breasts and his broad chest, feeling the tight grip of his hand squeezing water from your hair to drip down your back, following the arch of your spine and curling over his fingers, splayed low on your back.

With a groan, he pulled away, burying his face in the soft curve of your neck, shudders wracking his body. Wrapping your arms around him, you held him.

"We shouldn't be doing this”, he finally murmured, so softly you almost missed it, "We can’t do this…If we get caught…”.

"Simon...”, you murmured, caressing his back with your hands, trying your best to soothe him. You could feel his unease, and it echoed some of your own. Sliding your hands to his jaw, you lifted his head, locking your eyes with his, feeling an overwhelming urge of pride at been trusted enough to see his face, “I've ached for you for the five months we've been here…I’ve thought about you so many times”, you closed your eyes and laid your head back against the shower wall, your voice a broken whisper, "Please, lieutenant…please give me this”. You hoped using his title would spur him on.

Pressing against you, Simon let you feel his response, "I’ve wanted this for so long”, he murmured huskily, eyes closed, "I know it's wrong, you're under my command and I shouldn't do this—but I can't help it. I tried not to. God, I tried not to”.

His eyes opened and he smirked at you, roguish and handsome, that made your knees weak, “You have no idea how many cold showers I've taken, right here in this cubicle”.

"Probably about as many as I have over in the women's shower unit”, you said, caressing his cheek, a flush turning your face crimson.

"Fuck”, his pleasure in that mental image vibrated along your nerves, making you arch and gasp, rubbing your breasts against his chest. His breath hissed at the evidence of your own arousal, your nipples like diamonds scraping across his chest.

"C'mere”, he moaned, cupping your head and angling his lips to yours. Licking the beads of water from the soft curve of your lips, he teased and nibbled his way inside, stroke after stroke of his talented tongue making you dizzy with desire. Stroking his fingers through the wet, heavy length of your hair, you were soon gasping in pleasure and writhing against him, loving these kisses but wanting more.

Ghost twisted you around so that you were directly under the shower spray, you quivered in pure pleasure. The length of his warm body pressing against you, the feel of the cooling water cascading over you in a liquid caress, the sound of his ragged breath in your ear, the tactile explorations his hands were making over your body...all of it combined to give you a rush of pleasure like you’d never felt before. While the water poured over your head you lifted your lips to his and offered yourself to him completely, his name rolling off your lips in a tuneless chant as your body shook in euphoric bliss. Simon moaned, throbbing against your stomach.

His fingers stroked your cheek, your bright gaze met his dark, midnight stare. You trembled at the fire there, a fire that you knew matched your own. A fire you had only dreamt about, hoped to see.

Lifting your arms, he curled your wrists over the shower-head and tipped your head back until the water was streaming against your forehead and along the curve of your scalp, almost like a lover's caress. Cupping one hand over your hip and caressing the length of your body with the other, he admonished you not to move, tightening his fingers into your skin whenever you dared disobey.

Then, with a skill and style that set you aflame, Simon proceeded to claim every inch of your body as his, tasting you with his lips, lavishing you with his tongue, nipping you with his teeth, until your mind became a hazy mess. From his husky whispers in your ear as he nipped your earlobe, to his careful attention to the full swells of your breasts, he set every nerve screaming for release, bursting with pleasure. 

Slowly, softly he nuzzled your breasts, starting at the upper slope and curling around to the underside in ever-narrowing circles that had you babbling incoherently for him to take you. When your hips rocked against him, pressing your heat to his cock, his fingers tightened on your hip, reminding you to be still. When you tried to lift your head from the teasing spray, shivers coursed through you at the added slickness of water to your skin-on-skin caresses, Simon wrapped a hand in the ends of your hair and tugged, reminding you of your position.

Finally Simon’s hot mouth enveloped your throbbing nipple after countless minutes of purely sinful attention everywhere but where you wanted it. You exploded in ecstasy and your thrashing body was rewarded with a sharp slap to your ass, reminding you that you had been told not to move.

Lifting his head from your breasts, Ghost released your swollen nipple with a swift, curling lick that made your toes curl in pleasure, before snarling at you that you had been ordered to stay still. Pinned in place by the fierceness of his scowl, you tipped your head back and closed your eyes. You quivered in both longing and dread, reminding yourself that any punishment was worth the pleasure of having this man as your lover.

Standing up straight, he kissed your eyelids, a light, gentle pressure that made you ache. He reached up and slowly disentangled your wrists from the shower-head brace, softly sliding his fingers along the undersides of your arms before closing his hands around your ribs and lifting you up, only to turn and set you back down. A quick adjustment of the shower-head had it pointing directly at your aching, throbbing breasts, wringing a low moan of pleasure from you. With your eyes closed, the sensation of water flowing over you nearly brought you to your knees, but it was the first touch of his mouth against your soft, pussy that had them buckling for real.

Only the sheer strength of his arms supported you up, as Simon slowly stroked his tongue over you, broad and flat on the outer lips, then curling and stiff for a slow sweep along your wet slit. Whenever his tongue rubbed over your clit, he'd curl it up and flick over it, faster and faster, before capturing it between his teeth and tugging gently. Your legs clamped around his head, hands grasping for anything to hold onto, as you shrieked his name at the top of your lungs, gushing all over his face, coating him in your pleasure. 

Letting go of your hip with one hand, he took advantage of your orgasm and pushed his thick fingers up inside your core, spreading them out to stretch you, preparing your pussy for his thick cock. With each motion of his invading fingers into the depths of your spasming pussy, each flicker of that wonderfully talented tongue against your throbbing clit, you came over his face again, mewling his name loudly enduring the over stimulating ecstasy.

Surging to his feet, hands holding your hips to steady your shaking, dazed body, he slid you out from under the water's spray and pushed you down to your knees, his hand gently tipping your head back. With a low moan Simon tipped his own head back, stroking the swollen length of his cock, and released thick spurts of cum all over you.

Opening your mouth you caught what you could, but much of his release landed in your hair and on your cheeks, dripping down onto your chest. Rivulets of cum sliding down to coat your nipples before dripping off the hardened tips. You scooped the falling droplets into your hands and eagerly licked your fingers clean, reveling in the sweet, tangy taste of his cum.

Panting for breath, Simon leaned down to help you up off the shower floor, but halfway up his objective changed, and suddenly his hands were back in your hair, his mouth devouring yours, your tongues tangling as you slipped and slid your way up the wall, nails catching at his back, scratching him. As his tongue duelled with yours and you shared the taste of each other on your lips, he hissed in a pleasured pain, the sound peaking your nipples.

Nipping at his lower lip, you purposely scraped your nails across his back again, feeling the skin give way. Growling low in his throat, he yanked your head back, exposing your throat. Careful not to leave a mark too high for you to hide, he ravished you, bruising you from shoulder to collarbone, nipping at your neck he dared not mar. As he sucked and bit at your delicate skin, you trembled, wanting desperately to bear some mark of his possession, as he would now bear the scars of yours.

Finally you could take no more, and grasping his head, you pulled his lips back to yours. The little balance you’d found in the slippery shower was destroyed, and you tumbled out into the dressing area, barely catching yourselves before crashing into the bench where Simon’s clothes were still piled, yours tucked safely beneath them.

Pushing your shoulders back against the bench, he straddled your hips, still hard, rubbing himself against the soft skin of your stomach. Uncaring of the dangers of being caught like this, you were completely focused on each other to the exclusion of anything and everything else. You slipped your hands between you both, stroking him against you, feeling the head of his cock brush against the underside of your breast with each long caress. His head tipped back as his hands gripped your shoulders, your fingers caressing him, stroking his hard, throbbing length. Scooting down a little, you slid him into the valley between your breasts, moaning at the feel of his hot flesh pressed between your breasts. Squeezing them together, you completely encased him, shifting your hips to gently rock him up and down.

Leaning down, he pulled out of your hold, and cupping your jaw, pulled you up to kiss you. In your mind, you could see how you must have looked, your wildly curling hair tumbling over the back of the bench, lips locked with his, your arms braced on his shoulders, hands gently cupping his head and holding him to you, his arms wrapped around you, curling you up close. Opening your eyes and smiling softly into his, you lifted your hand and softly traced the barest fingertip over the sweet curve of his lips, feeling the tingles still shooting through you from your prolonged, deeply sensual kisses. His stubble tickled the sensitive tip. Swinging a leg over you, he smoothly reversed your positions, until with a gasp of surprised pleasure, you found yourself straddling his hips. Your splayed pussy was sliding along the length of his hot, hard, throbbing cock, making you ache for him to fill you.

Playfully he rubbed against you, teasing you. The swollen lips of your pussy slickly caressed him, and each brush of his cockhead over your swollen clit made you jump in pleasure. Leaning forward you kissed his head, his ear, his eyebrow. Wherever you could reach, you branded him with your lips. Ever so gently, he raised you up and then slowly lowered you down onto his swollen, eager cock. Simon’s shoulders were now supported by the bench, his rough hands clenched against your shoulder blades as you arched in pleasure, gasping as he stretched you.

As you had made your marks on his back, he now made his inside of you, making sure that you fit him, and only him. Lower, ever lower he guided you, until finally you could feel his balls pressing against the softness of your pussy. Gasping at the mix of pleasure-pain from being stretched like this, his name trembled from your lips as your pussy clenched around him, that rhythmic internal caress signalling yet another orgasm given you.

As you trembled and shook your way through euphoria, he never moved, forcing himself to just sit there and ride out the waves of your pleasure, watching you as you gave yourself over to pure sensation. Knowing that Simon was watching you, compounding your pleasure. You arched your back, rising and falling on his cock, catching glimpses of his possessive smile through the haze of passion fogging your eyes. Every slightest movement set off another round of fireworks in your stomach, and you drenched him with another wave of your slick. You were insatiable for him, and loving every second of it.

After what seemed like hours' worth of continuous pleasure, he tightened his hands on you, slowing your rocking motion, easing you to a halt. He held you as you quieted, stroking you from nape to knee, touching a trembling thumb to your lips, stroking the pads of his fingers over your cheek, sliding the backs of those long, strong fingers over the soft curve of your shoulder. Linking his fingers with yours, he lifted your joined hands and softly kissed your fingertips. At the romantic gesture, your heart melted, sending a wave of scorching heat through your body. You hummed happily, bliss taking over you.

"Love”, he murmured, tugging you down to him and kissing you passionately, reasserting his claim over you at the same time that he offered himself up to you. Your hands shook as you held his head, your nails lightly scoring his rugged skin, sending shivers along his length and making his fingers clench where they held you to him.

You leaned forward, rocking gently, causing your hardened nipples to scrape over his chest in a way that made your own breath stumble. Putting your moist, swollen lips to his ear, you whispered, "You feel so good".

Before you could even take your next breath, he had swung you around so that you were now leaning over the bench, knees spread wide, open and available and his for the taking. Fisting his hand in your tangled locks, he tugged your head back, arching you into a fully submissive angle, your breasts thrusting outward as your neck lay exposed and vulnerable to his teeth and lips.

He growled as he slid the hard, hot, full length of his cock deep inside of you, nestling it into that spot he'd created, that he'd claimed, that he owned. Your arms shook as you struggled to hold this position. Your nipples pebbled as he pounded into your pussy, whispering commands in your ear, pinching and tugging you with his free hand, but never letting go of your hair, keeping you arched back and wide open.

Using your slick that was freely running down over his length, he pulled back just enough to slip the head of his cock against your ass. As you whimpered in protest, he surged against you, curling around you and swallowing your scream, claiming you. Crushing your head between his fist and lips, he devoured you, quivering with each cry that poured from your lips, trembling as he listened to your passion, stroking you as you soared through yet another peak. Holding you tight, you both found release, groaning each other’s names.

Slowly, carefully slipping out of you, he rested on his heels, pulling you back into his arms, holding you tight. You felt so protected, so cherished as one hand curled around your waist and the other crossed between your heaving breasts to softly stroke the skin of your neck, caressing the pulse beat still pounding through you. You lifted your arms and held him to you, tipping your head to kiss the curve of his smile, touching your lips to the corner of his mouth and sighing softly in pleasure.

"I guess we better get going, before someone walks in”, Simon said, softly stroking you with his calloused hands, “But I don't want to…I can't get enough of you".

"Nor I, you", your voice rasped in his ear.

Feeling you tremble, he encircled your waist and lifted you up onto the bench, spinning you around to face him. Kneeling between your splayed thighs, he reached up and brushed a wild curl out of your eyes.

"We'll figure it out", he whispered, “I promise”.

———

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley smut #Simon ghost Riley x reader #simon riley x reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader insert #simon riley x you

[risuola]

I LOVE THE WAY IT HURTS — F. READER x FUSHIGURO TOJI, who adores the way your long nails break through his skin

One thing you learned during your long-term affair with Toji is that he perceives pain as something arousing. The adrenaline rush of stinging sensation, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue – those things send signals straight to his cock. You, on the other hand, are more than happy to scratch his body red.

cw: smut, marking, scratching, biting, pussy eating, handjob, blood kink if you squint, bruises, brief aftercare, reader discretion is advised — 2,5k words

masterlist

Filthy. That’s what you’d call your relationship with Toji. You were not together and frankly, you really didn’t know all that much about him. Apart from his body, of course, but thing with Toji is – his body is already a lot. You began hooking up with him long time ago, it will be two years now, and for the first time it happened accidentally, really. You were once out in a club, he was there too and whilst both being drunk you ended up in a motel, fucking the alcohol out of your systems and turned out, it was absolutely amazing, so you kept meeting up.

If someone saw you with him, they would absolutely consider you insane, and you wouldn’t exactly try to prove them any wrong. You just looked funny next to Fushiguro – a man over 6 foot tall and nothing but raw, hard muscle. His body sculpted to perfection, impressively muscular held just as much power as it looked like; a stature of a greek god next to you looked just giant. Sometimes you wondered if you’d survive if he once decided to really go rough on you and although the thought was tempting, you were not brave enough to provoke him to this point.

Your petite size, compared to him, was one of Toji’s favorite things in you. There was never that much talking about your personal lives during your sex meetings, your affair was purely based on physical touch and chasing highs, so he was always hyperfocused on everything revolving around your body, your looks, the sounds you made. The way he was able to bend and break you with ease, man handling you however he pleased always turned him on at the very thought of it, but there was one thing, that made his dick hard even quicker. It was all of the marks you were leaving on him.

Just like right now. Your nails were digging into his broad shoulders, leaving long, angry red marks all over his skin while he was above you; his large form completely overpowering you with every harsh, ruthless thrust his hips were aiming at your soaked pussy. The grip you had on him, one that was meant to stabilize you underneath the sheer strength of his pistons, was hard enough to bruise as your fingertips dug into his flesh with everything you had in your sore muscles. You couldn’t think clearly, you couldn’t think at all to be honest, there were just white spots of pleasure disrupting the godly sight of him above you and what was racing inside your veins definitely wasn’t blood at this point – it was pure ecstasy and adrenaline. You were moaning pathetically every time he buried his teeth into your soft tissues, leaving red signatures of himself wherever he felt like it, and he sucked some spots onto your plush skin, further making a point of you being his own, even if that was only for that night, until he’ll have you again next time.

Toji was a lot to take but the struggle tasted so sweet. He was big, way too big for you to fit, but you wanted him anyway, and every time he was stretching you so impossibly pushing his girth into you felt like that was it, like that was the time when he finally rips you in half. He often praised you, although there was a thick underlining of mocking in the way words were slipping over his tongue – he was telling you how well your little pussy takes him and how it’ll never learn his size.

“Fuck, you’re always so fucking tight,” he groaned from his place on top of you, pressing your thighs to your chest and sucking a red spot to your calf to ground himself from the sensation of your walls squeezing the life out of him. He kept you folded in half with your legs over his muscular shoulders and your hips angled in a way that gave him way too much freedom in ruining you time after time. All of his length was rolling in and out of you from the tip to the very bottom with every slam of his pelvis; he was hitting all of the sweet spots inside your velvety walls each time he dragged himself out and pushed back in. His heavy balls, full for the second time were hitting your ass; the slapping sound completing the already playing melody of heavy pants, loud growls and moans and absolute, wet filth that was happening between your legs.

“T-toji–“ you gasped, squeezing his biceps even harder, feeling a thread inside your stomach dangerously close to snapping. Searing heat was rushing through your entire body, a flood of hot lava washing over you as your brain was slowly turning into an incoherent flurry. You felt your third orgasm pooling low below your belly, it was already in the process of overtaking you, it was too much, he was too much and yet, you couldn’t get enough of him. Every time you met with him, you were utterly overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the act, but then, it was leaving you with hunger for the next time. The marks that your body wore for days after him made sure you couldn’t forget about him too quickly, some of the bruises even saw him twice.

Fushiguro grinned, taking full advantage of his strong body and quickly switching positions. He was now kneeling, his thighs spread apart as he was keeping you up on his cock, your knees still securely hooked over his shoulders. You held onto him for dear life as he made you bounce on him with ease as if you weighted nothing more than a feather. The impact of every move made you see stars, you were lost in him, your mind threatening to never get back from the place of absolute lust and pleasure.

“Gonna take my load like a good girl, yeah?”, he groaned, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. A sound absolutely stripped of any meaning left your throat, a whiny confirmation of your neediness as you grabbed a handful of his black, soft hair. Toji pushed into you few times more, spiraling into his own release and his mind went blank for a moment when the metallic taste of blood spread over his tongue – a crimson evidence of how harshly he bit down onto your lower lip, drawing red from it.

Your legs fell down from his shoulders and you grabbed onto the man tightly. The warmth overflowed you as soon as it was sprayed over your squelching walls, droplets of white hot running down your thighs and to the base of Toji’s cock, connecting with the creamy ring you left on him. His skin was covered in red long scratch marks, a sting already evident but it did nothing but arouse him even more.

You’ve known Fushiguro long enough to know he found a lot of pleasure in pain. Every bite or slash you left on him he took as a prize, it drove him insane. He loved the taste of your blood, the sweet iron melting over his tongue like the most luxurious candy and he loved the taste of you. He loved it to the point it wasn’t a surprise that once you were back on the bed, he was already down, tracing wet kisses along your stomach and straight between your legs.

Your body shivered; sharp jolts of electricity shot from your core as Toji’s tongue pressed flat over your oversensitive, still throbbing clit. You cried out his name, grabbing a handful of his dark locks but instead of pushing him away, your hands pulled him closer and there was no need to invite him further. Your thighs squeezed his head harshly as he was eating you out like it was the first meal he’s got in his life, slurping on the filthy mixture of your juices and his seed, licking and sucking at your swollen tissues and rendering you absolutely unable of any brain functions.

Toji’s strong arm kept your legs open, he was purring into your pussy, quickly getting drunk by the sweet, addictive taste of you. You were his favorite girl, his one and only affair and not because he was so faithful to you. No one could even compare to the way you took him, to the way you perfectly pleased his taste buds, to what you were doing to his own body. He was a lot but you wanted it all.

“Oh my god–“ you whined, cumming all over again, for the nth time feeling your body fall apart underneath his touch and Toji took everything you had like he needed it to stay alive. Sloppily he was licking you through your high, absorbing the heavy trembling of your thighs against his head, the clenching of your hole over his tongue, the jumpiness that resulted from absolute overstimulation.

Satisfied, Fushiguro fell onto the bed next to you, and even out of breath, you were automatically drawn to him, finding your place next to his broad, spotted by countless hickeys chest. He pulled you closer, kissing your lips with hunger and you melted into him; your tongue immediately engaging in a fiery tango with his own. The mixture of tastes made you whimper and although you were sore and exhausted, you still wanted to please him.

Toji purred into the kiss, feeling your warm hand wrapping around his shaft; your dainty fingers barely enveloping his girth, but the way you pumped him was expert. You knew him long enough to know everything that brings him to the edge of pleasure, you were able to render that tower of a man into a moaning mess just with your hands and you loved to abuse that power, because usually it was you who was lost in the feeling to the point of losing the ability of forming words.

You moved your lips lower, peppering the kisses all over his neck and chest, while working your hand up and down his length. You listened to his breath hissing every time you twisted your grip around him, quickly making him rock hard once again and flexing in your grasp. His large hand smoothed over your head and back, sending shivers through your body as he run his fingers down your spine.

“Just like that,” he breathed out; his cock leaking already, reddened tip glistening with white and you picked up the pace a little bit. You could hear how his heart was racing below his ribcage, how his breath became uneven, and you could see how his rock-hard abs were flexing. Every time your nails grazed along the very prominent veins that run along his cock, low, gravelly groans were escaping his throat.

When he cummed, just slightly shaking underneath you, you smiled in victory – satisfied by your achievement of making him so pliable even if just for a moment. The white, hot seed spread over your hand and you raised your head up from his chest, lowering yourself enough to finish the job with your mouth. Slowly pumping him through his high, you licked everything he gave clean, murmuring softly at the salty taste spreading over your mouth.

After that, you two finally were meaning to rest. Buried in his strong body, you allowed your muscles to relax underneath the gentle swipes of his hand over your arm and back. He traced the shapes only he knew what meant all over your delicate skin and you hid into him completely, shamelessly stealing his warmth, trying to force away the thoughts of how it would be to have the entirety of him, not only his body from time to time. You knew him for so long and yet you had no idea who he was as a human – you never really shared much about your personal lives. Was he in relationship and had a child? You had no idea. He might have as well be a paid assassin and you wouldn’t tell, but sometimes you wished to know more about him.

Sometimes visions of just sharing lunch with him invaded your mind. You wanted to cook his favorite meals for him and give him back massages when he overworks himself at the gym. You wanted to brush his hair with your fingers just casually, not only when you have his head between your thighs. You sometimes wondered if that would be too out of place for you to initiate any kind of non-sexual activity with him. You had no idea and no wish to test it out. That day was odd enough, because usually you would just set up a date and time and just meet to fuck. But that day it happened a little differently – you needed a new bed, and it just came in the morning, so you asked Fushiguro if he’d be willing to help you with the montage of it since you really had no one to ask for it and also, you had no place to sleep on. Asking for favors were against the unspoken rules of your affair, but he agreed without second thought, and yes, he not only put the bed all together, but also decided to give it a test while at it. If you were to be sleeping in there, it seemed only natural that he checked its endurance, so you’ll be safe in here.

“So, what’s the rating for my new bed?”, you joked softly, keeping your eyes closed and your head on his chest.

“Not bad, it’s still in one piece,” Toji chuckled, squeezing your shoulder just slightly. “Quite comfy as well.”

“Isn’t it? I needed an upgrade.”

“Desperately. Your old one was miserable, really.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so miserable if not for your strength, Toji,” you accused with fake seriousness in your voice, and his body shook once again with the gentle laughter.

“If a bed cannot take some fucking, what is that even for then,” he asked and you smiled at the point he made.

“Maybe that’s true.”

And then, there was another silence hanging in the air, but it was comfortable. You were resting, dancing on the edge between staying awake and falling asleep and Toji… Toji was there because he wanted to stay. He could have already dress up and leave, but why would he do that when he can just stay with you? Truth is, he also enjoyed time spend with you and for the longest time he contemplated about just asking you out. That day, encouraged by the fact that you asked him for help, he decided to just go for it.

“Wanna go out tomorrow to grab some lunch?”, he asked, his tone as casual as it was physically possible but right underneath your ear, his heart just skipped a beat.

“Sure,” you replied, sounding calm and collected, but underneath his hand, he could feel how for just a moment you tensed. “Wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kinktober #jjk kinktober #jujutsu kaisen kinktober #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji #fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji smut #toji imagines #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro smut

[chloeangelic]

Since hot slut - Seeking What is Desirable Joel - got BUTT ASS naked immediately in someone else's guest room with ladybug.....

Can you describe in a bit more detail what he looks like naked?

*Disrespectfully

Ask and you shall receive - everything under the cut~  

seeking what is desirable Joel - body and 🍆 HCs!

Rating: 18+ Warnings: Discussions about dick and cock and height/size difference kink, references to our lord and savior Manuel Ferrara

I see him as being about a foot taller than Ladybug - I’m 5’8 and my bf is a foot taller than me so it’s more about Joel being tall than Ladybug being short or small. He’s generally a big guy, and - not to ruin anyone’s immersion so LOOK AWAY if needed - but when I write for them I tend to visualize them as like 5’5 and 6’5 tbh. She's definitely not petite by any means, not skinny or small, just sort of average height. Jeremiah is about 6'1 I think.

Let’s do this head to toe, shall we? This Joel can be read as show or pixel Joel, however his nose and hair are more consistent with show Joel cause he’s my man. He has very broad shoulders, muscular arms and chest, definitely a dad bod cause he’s softer around the middle and has a solid insulation layer so nice soft tummy but if he were to flex when you poke him, you’d feel some abs under there. Nice chest hair, mix of brown and gray, not too thick but not sparse either, just a solid layer you can see his skin through. Normal amount of dark arm hair as well. We’ve all seen that screen grab of Ramon from that pornstar first date thing, of the tummy and the thigh grab? That’s a good representation haha 

He has a very nice and thick back, wide lats and nice lower back muscles. Can definitely see his traps well when he’s wearing t-shirts. Some veins on his forearms but mostly pronounced when he’s working or at the gym. 

He’s def the type to unintentionally have kind of a juicy ass and thick quads from working out - not as juicy of an ass as Manuel, however, but I have taken a lot of Seeking inspo from the video of him and Naomi Swann, especially for ch 1 (I sometimes watch that video just to get into the headspace to write for them lmfao, would recommend). He has hairy legs, the hair growth tapering off a little mid-thigh and up, and big feet. Probably shoe size 14/15.  

Dick and cock wise… Let’s see. He probably used to be in the habit of trimming his pubic hair but stopped giving a fuck a while before ch 1 - it’s mentioned that he looks like hasn’t seen a razor in a few months. It’s dark, thick, but definitely not too long. When Ladybug enters the picture, he goes back to slight trimming so it's still full coverage, still thick, perfect for rubbing against, but not long enough to wrap around your finger entirely, you feel me?

I’d say he’s 8.5-8.7” fully hard, very thick and proportional from base to tip with a very slight taper at the end, has a few thick veins that bulge but he’s definitely not covered in them, I think they mostly just run along the bottom half of his length. Proportionally sized balls - I know some people are into massive balls but one time my friend showed me a pic of a guy with massive balls and it honestly just freaked me out, like, his entire bulge was 90% BALLS and I was not into it. I see him as a shower tbh, like he’s probably 5-6 inches soft. His erection is so heavy that it doesn't stand out 45 degrees from his body like a lot of dicks do, I think it probably just sort of chills around parallel with the floor if he's standing.

New chapter on Tuesday !!!! Enjoy !!

#seeking fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #chloe answers

[foggyfanfic]

Camilo Analysis

Bruh, who even is Camilo? He is arguably the Madrigal we get the least real characterization for, other than Teenage Boy, which is a very broad category of person. So as per usual, it helps me to get my thoughts in order if I write this stuff down.

First, Mirabel introduces Camilo through song and we right of way see him shapeshift into a young mother so he can sooth her baby while she takes a nap. That's actually a really great way to imply several things about his character (oh my god guys, this movie is so well written).

Thoughtful enough to offer a new mom a chance to rest

Comfortable caring for infants (probs helped care for Antonio?)

More patient than I would have thought, because taking care of a baby while the mother rests is not a quick and easy favor

Sort of implies that he likes kids

Then Mirabel sings he "won't stop until he makes you smile today" while he turns into multiple people and doing goofy stuff. Everybody already knows he's an entertainer at heart but I gotta add it to the list anyways.

5. Likes making people laugh

6. Plays around with his gift a lot

Moving on to Antonio's party, he's the guy greeting all the villagers by name, and he changes his energy to match each person.

7. Knows a lot of the villagers

8. Charming and personable

9. Respects his elders (kisses the old woman on the cheek)

He jokes around with Antonio, probably in an attempt to soothe his nerves, and teases his Pa. This reinforces points one, four, five and six. If this was a different list, I would talk about what it means that Camilo is clearly comfortable teasing his father, despite the seemingly stern reaction Félix has, but I digress.

He stands with Julieta while Antonio and Mirabel walk to the door, giving birth to a lot headcanons about them being especially close, and I'm going to roll with it.

10. Of his siblings, he's closest to Julieta.

Then he's very excited for Antonio as he discovers his room, it's actually the happiest we see him in the movie (other than perhaps when he's dancing in We Don't Talk About Bruno). So:

11. Supportive? Or maybe just enjoys seeing other people happy?

Plot happens, fast forward to breakfast when he pretends to be Dolores so he can get double the food. Then teases Isabela about Mariano, something he does a lot in the movie.

12. Likes food.

13. In his Little Shit era

Fast forward some more, all the way to We Don't Talk About Bruno. He absolutely kills it, and clearly enjoys the whole production. If you're like me and you headcanon that the musical numbers happen in universe then we can conclude:

13.5. Fucking loves living in a musical

And if you headcanon they don't:

14. Enjoys telling stories.

15. Probably hasn't thought through the consequences of telling everybody his Tío is a seven foot tall boogy man that feasts on screams. Which is very normal for a fifteen year old boy.

Teases Isabela about Mariano again. More plot happens. Time For Dinner. Dolores gossips to him as soon as she can, then he immediately gossips to his Pá. When Félix accidentally spits his drink onto Mariano, Camilo has to hold in a laugh. It's possible he doesn't really like Mariano, he keeps making jokes about the guy, at the very least he doesn't take him seriously. I wonder if he's the sort of guy that prefers to hang out with women?

16. Close to his sister.

17. Close to his father.

18. Shapeshifts reflexively/accidentally.

More plot. We see him try to soothe his mother.

19. Takes care of his Má. Pepa is literally unable to hide her emotions, so it would make sense that, through no real fault of her own, the kids slowly learn to take care of her as they grow up. The squeaky wheel gets the grease and all. On the flip side, the fact that sun beams come out whenever they get home from school or learn a new skill probs means the kids can never doubt that Pepa loves them. Plus, she likely has the easiest time transitioning from a parent-child relationship to a parent-adult offspring relationship of all the adults. So Camilo might be growing closer to his Má as he gets closer to adulthood.

The longer the plot goes on the less we see him. He's clearly frustrated with his gift glitching on him, but that doesn't really tell me much. It's a situation that would frustrate anyone and they don't show us how he handles those negative emotions. They also don't show us how he handles hearing the end of Mirabel's and Abuela's argument. Rude. They do show us him leaping to the candle's aid while the house crashes down around him so clearly:

20. Sees the Miracle as more important than his own safety.

The house falls, the candle goes out, in the background we hear him first remark on his gift being gone, then wonder how this will effect his little brother. We already know he enjoys using his gift, I can theorize he's made Being a Shapeshifter an important part of his identity, but all we have that's concrete is:

21: He doesn't just enjoy his gift, it is important to him.

22. Empathetic.

Mirabel runs off, resolution happens, Mirabel comes back. He is the one who cuts through the reunion to point out their house is gone, and even gets a little exasperated when he catches a bit of flack from Félix.

23. Not an optimist. Might be a pessimist, but most likely just not particularly sentimental.

For the rest of the scene he exists in a state of confusion. The hits start coming and they don't stop coming. Apparently Tío Bruno is just suddenly back now? And it kind of seems like half the family isn't surprised or asking any questions?! There's not a lot of conclusions I can draw from him being shocked and confused that Bruno just sort of appeared out of nowhere, I think most people would be. And unlike the parents or the older cousins, he doesn't have enough memories from when Bruno was around to be swept up in the joy of seeing him again. His reaction is relatable and endearing, but not very revealing.

The last character moment we get is when he tries to twirl the shovel around all fancy, almost drops it, then checks to make sure Mirabel wasn't watching. It reinforces things already mentioned, like him being showy, and wanting to entertain those around him, but also:

24. Wants to be seen as cool. Another very normal trait for a teenage boy.

It is interesting that the first person he looks at is Mirabel, I can't help but wonder if that would have been the case at the beginning of the movie. There's room for interpretation there, but regardless, by the end of the movie:

25. Respects Mirabel's opinion.

#encanto #camilo madrigal #character analysis #camilo encanto #foggy rambles

[mamawasatesttube]

6 & 29 for the ask game? i love your work!!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

not "all the time" per se but i've definitely gone back to both fill in the blanks by @mindshelter and blush by @misspickman a few times. what can i say, i love it when tim is besotted and kon gets loved <3

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

okay i DO plan to post this.. eventually... when i finish the other 5 chapters of it... but given that i have no idea when that will be, here's a bit of the "jon's friends keep thinking his big brother is hot and he's in hell about it" wip sfdkjh (under the cut for length!!)

fanfic writer asks!

Any thoughts Yichen had about going to the skate park tomorrow get zapped clean out of his head as an engine purrs, and a sleek, sexy as hell motorcycle peels into the parking lot.

It’s a gorgeous dark red color, with black accents, exposed chrome exhaust pipes, and a front light and handlebars to match. It’s not obnoxiously loud, but its thrum is powerful and satisfying. It sounds expensive, if that’s even possible.

The sexy bike rolls to a stop right in front of the three of them, and the rider rests his foot on the ground for support. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket covered in patches and studs—the shoulders are spiked, and a little chain dangles from one of the pockets.

Yichen identifies a few hero logoes among the patches on both the back and front; there’s the Superman family crest, obviously, on one shoulder, and then Wonder Woman’s winged W on a trapezoid. One of the Flash lightning bolts, too, in red and white—Yichen isn’t good at remembering which hero is which, outside of Metropolis. Is that… no, Kid Flash is yellow. Oh well. There’s others he doesn’t recognize at all, like a round yellow-and-black one right over the rider’s heart with a weird… bird-shaped thing, maybe?

Man, he really oughtta brush up on his heroes.

But that’s beside the point, because holy shit. This guy—this is the coolest guy he’s ever seen in his life! That jacket, the boots—chunky, thick-soled, covered in belts and buckles—and the ripped jeans, with barely-visible fishnets peeking out through the tears. This guy has fashion! Ho-lee shit, what is someone like that doing here?

Jon hops down from the brick fence with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, and leans down to pick up his backpack. “Well, I’ll see you guys.”

“Wait,” Priya says. “That’s your ride?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

The cool as hell motorcyclist pulls off his helmet. Yichen’s jaw drops.

It’s like seeing Jon’s dad’s face transplanted onto a guy half his age and so much hotter. He’s got high cheekbones and a square jaw ever-so-slightly dotted with stubble, and piercing blue eyes just like Jon’s dad, and his hair falls in curls that should be crushed and flattened from the helmet but somehow still look amazing.

“Yo, Jonno!” Conner calls. “C’mon, we’re gonna hold up traffic!”

“I’m coming!” Jon hollers back. “I’m just saying bye, jeez!”

Yichen finally remembers how to close his mouth and does so. He doesn’t feel cold anymore—his face is on fire. “Dude.”

Jon tilts his head quizzically. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Yichen repeats.

“What, Yichen?” Jon glances at Priya for clarification, but doesn’t seem to find any. What the hell does he need clarified here?

“Dude!” Yichen clutches at his hair. “Duuuude!”

“What!” Jon hefts his backpack onto his shoulders. “Stop ‘dude’ing at me and say it already!”

Yichen jumps down from the brick wall and grabs Jon by the shoulders. How does he not get it? How does he not get it?!

“Dude,” he says, as intense and emphatic as he can hope to get. He shakes Jon slightly, then points at Conner. “That is your brother?”

“Uh… yes?” Jon squints at him. “Is that, uh… a problem?”

Yichen clutches at his hair again. “Dude!” he exclaims in consternation. Grabs at Jon’s shoulders again. “Oh my god. Dude! Dude! You never told me your brother is hot!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yichen almost thinks he sees Conner laugh. Except that’s not possible, because the engine definitely drowned out his words—they’re not that close to the roadside. Priya definitely laughs, though, covering her mouth with one hand.

Jon, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose. “…Ew.”

#answers #bandanabiel #rimi writes #just a lil bit hehe #and thank you!!!!!!

[miseria-fortes-viros]

trc height lineup. no i do not take criticism

explaination/reasoning:

everyone says blue is 5 foot nothing HOWEVER in trb she describes herself as “just shy of 5 feet” which makes her FOUR ELEVEN. wtf. should’ve eaten her greens

ronan is 6’5”. if u notice in the books he is described as “tall” and as we all know no man is truly tall unless he is taller than my dad and 6’6” felt like a bit much

matthew is 6’3” bc he is “a bear of a boy” and bears are tall and broad. ofc ronan is canonically the tallest but the law of the universe states that the youngest sibling must always be taller than the oldest sibling

declan is 6’2” because he is the shortest lynch but all lynches are tall so yknow. hes there. tall enough to be officially tall not tall enough to be noticeably tall. as is the declan lynch way

adam and declan are the same height bc i thought it would b really funny. and adam is said to be taller than the rest of the gangsey but not ronan so. 6’2”

gansey is 5’11” because 6’ exactly would be too on the nose for the kind of boy destined to be bronzed and installed outside of a public library. also bc i believe he is the only man who would ever be truthful about being 5’11”

kavinsky is 5’10” and a scrawny motherfucker. i know there are tall buff kavinsky truthers out there and to u i would like to say Wrong. this kid is described as having a concave chest no less than 5 times and his entire diet is cocaine and shitty beer. AND he is compensating for something (not being taller than any of the boys he likes) by being horrible

noah is 5’9” bc i said so. good height for a man. good for him

henry is 5’7” bc thats how tall i am and henry has “same height as u” vibes. i dont mean me i mean in general. henry is 5’7” to me but for u hes however tall u are. his hair adds like 3 inches but u can look each other in the eye

#the raven cycle #trc #it’s 3am what am i doing #why am i doing this at 3am #anyways NO CRITICISM ALLOWED BC IM RIGHT!! #ur not allowed to disagree sorry #helenaposting #drabbles #it appears u all have different opinions on what is considered tall and to that i say #sorry i am dutch ur not tall unless ur TALL tall #barbi.trc

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

Shades of cool: I

Lalo Salamanca x Reader

A/N: I’m uploading this on my phone and I’ve never properly written a fic before so if it’s a bit rough around the edges bare with me xx

Word count: 1.7k (give or take)

Warnings: n/a

Part 1: that’s a Salamanca

You started your shift at around 7:45 am, working at Casa Tranquila was a reasonably tame job. Usually, you worked at the desk; though on occasion you’d hand out medicines and chat with residents in the common room. Recently, around 2 weeks ago or so, an old man by the name of Hector Salamanca had been admitted to your workplace's facility. He’d supposedly suffered a stroke and had little movement of his body. He could move his hand a little, and the muscles in his face would writhe as you spoke to him, though that was about it. The two brothers that brought him were rather upfront and talked little to anyone other than their uncle.

They’d visited once more after that.

You’d been working in the lounge area, listening to a group of old women tell stories when the door abruptly swung open and two men walked through. The one that led in front was tall - around 6 foot you guessed - with a dark head of hair, a moustache and triangular tuft below his lower lip. His broad shoulders were driven back as he stopped and glanced around the room, in search of someone. The man that followed was a little shorter; he was bald and muscular beneath his jacket, his clothes looked quite expensive.

You wondered who they might be here to visit. You made eye contact with a coworker nearby who shrugged- as if they knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Uncle Hector,”

You struggled writing Spanish, though your addiction to telenovelas and the speaking lessons given by your friend were seeming to become rather useful. Your heart fluttered and you smiled to yourself at the thought of Hector having visitors, it’d been so long since his two twin nephews had left. Being alone was hard enough for you let alone an old man that’d been taken prisoner in his own body.

You hadn’t meant to listen in, though you couldn’t help it. You had a soft spot for the guy. You made sure to save him the last chocolate yoghurt at lunch, and occasionally would sit and watch tv with him and keep him company. The doctors had informed the staff of his form of communication, tapping. You’d ask him questions to try and form some sort of conversation- and more often than not it worked. Though there were times when he wouldn’t reply out of irritation. In that case, you’d sit back in your seat and read a book or continue watching whatever Señor Salamanca had chosen.

The older man was ‘Lalo’, you’d heard from the table, momentarily tuning out the older ladies. You tried to keep your prying eyes on the wooden slab as cards were currently being dealt out by 74-year-old grandma, Cheryl.

You could no longer hear them as well as you’d like, though that was probably for the best… it was ‘rude to be nosy’, which is what your father would say when you were little. “Cheryl, I might sit out of this one, but I’ll keep track of the numbers for you gals’” you turned to place a hand on the old woman's shoulder, smiling as you did. She beamed and nodded, eyes half closed whilst her bony fingers trembled; rattling the deck of cards silently.

As you focused on their game, occasionally picking up the sound of laughter from across the room, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking up from where you were seated, you made eye contact with the younger bald man from before, who seemed to be silent in comparison to this ‘Lalo.’

The sound of ringing echoed throughout the common room a few minutes later, and you stifled a laugh as it frightened Margery from her nap. At this point most in the room were watching Hector and his visitors. Some overlooked with confusion, whilst others glowered with complete and utter annoyance.

“that’s a Salamanca!!” Lalo sounded, crouched beside his uncle who rang the bell a few more times.

The scene brought that fuzzy feeling back to your chest, a sense of pride. You were so moved by this act of kindness that you’d almost forgotten who out of the senior women was winning. Your train of thought was interrupted by Jenny, the 48 year old mother of two that worked alongside you and the other members of staff. “Y/n, it’s your shift at the desk now” she said, hands folded as she leant on her hip. “Alright” you shrugged, said goodbye to the old women, brushed off your uniform and informed Jenny of who was winning the card game before leaving the common room.

The bald man had left to give Lalo and Hector privacy around 15 minutes after you began manning the desk alone. You sat signing family members in and out, answered phone calls and absentmindedly doodled on a post-it whenever given a moment to yourself. From looking at the log book, the man stood by the common room doors was named Ignacio Varga. The name suited his face, you thought.

“Same old Hector, just wants to kill everybody” you heard in the distance, by which you put aside your pen and made yourself look as busy as possible. Jennifer had done a really good job at organising these files. The man called Ignacio mumbled something back in reply to his friend, which earned him a laugh. Once they approached the desk, your throat went dry.

Damn. Lalo Salamanca was better looking up close. Your eyes took notice of the silver streak in his hair, and the smile plastered to his face. It was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back shyly, face suddenly warm.

“Aye, so I assume we just sign out now like we did when we signed in?” He queried, flicking through the pages of the log book that rest open on the counter. “Ah, yes- sorry, it uh” you stood from your seat to get a better look at the book, and pointed a finger at where the older man should sign. “Just here please…” you added, mentally scolding yourself for how pathetic you must’ve just made yourself sound.

He simply hummed in reply, and thanked you as he clicked a pen and began to write rather quickly.

You for some reason didn’t want him to go just yet, something was eating at you “so, you were visiting Hector, hm? I saw- well, heard the bell you’d gifted him” your eyes met his, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Yeahhhh, Uncle Hector, thought the bell would be a good idea, I hope it didn’t disturb you” he replied, keeping that same smile as he handed the pen to his friend.

“No! No, of course not” you stopped for a moment, your cheeks a soft shade of red as you realised how rude you must’ve sounded, “I think it’s sweet- the bell, it definitely makes our job a lot easier… and it makes it a lot easier for Mr Salamanca to communicate…”

Lalo tilted his head slightly, resting his arms folded on the counter as you spoke. Waiting for you to finish, he took note of your sweetness and huffed in amusement, “yes, I agree it does make things a lot simpler…” he didn’t seem to shift in his place as he stood, so you figured you’d keep talking for a little longer.

“It does, I actually spend a lot of time with him- during breaks and stuff, before you and your friend he hadn’t really had other visitors” you swallowed, and avoided his gaze, “well, since the two men that dropped him off here left anyway… he’s a character, your uncle, I’ll give him that”

Lalo laughed and nodded eagerly, “yes, My cousins! Lionel and Marco, they’re good boys, though men of very few words I must admit, mi amor.”

You smiled up at him, and felt yourself growing dizzy. There was something so enchanting about this man, you could smell the feint essence of his cologne from where you stood, bashful like a schoolgirl. You pushed the thought to the back of your head, kicking yourself for being such a creep.

“Mhm, well, I’m sorry to keep you both, Mr Salamanca” you brushed off your uniform and smiled at both Lalo and Ignacio. Lalo gawked and waved your politeness aside, “oh please, it’s Eduardo, Eduardo Salamanca but you can call me Lalo…” he outstretched his right hand, tattooed forearm bent in your direction. Your hand was dwarfed by his larger one, but you liked that. You also liked how rough they were, though- you also pushed that thought to the back of your mind for another time.

“It was lovely meeting you Mr Sal- Lalo,” you stumbled on your words, and laughed beneath your breath as he quirked a brow at your sudden nervousness. He was so dreamy. You’d always had a thing for older guys but Lalo was just- wow. He was the whole package.

“And you….”

“y/n”

“Y/n” he repeated back a few times to himself, allowing your name to linger on his tongue, as though he were thinking.

“Well, I’ll definitely see you again, y/n, you should stop by ‘El Michoacáno’, it’s just before the park you wouldn’t miss it” Slapping his hand off the side of the counter, Lalo turned and started toward the door with, Ignacio in suit.

“Yes, of course” you called after him, by which he chuckled and glanced back over his shoulder, “please do, I’ll cook you up the best Tacos you’ll ever eat, my treat señora”

Ignacio rolled his eyes subtlety, wanting to leave Casa Tranquila as soon as possible. They’d spent too much time talking. He had things to do. Important things.

Before you could reply, the phone rang, and you sighed, picking up your side of the receiver- the chipper tone returning as Lalo and his friend left.

As you talked with the person on the other end of the line, you quickly jotted down the name of the restaurant Lalo had told you to stop by. You were busy up until the weekend, though folded the paper and placed it in your back pocket. You’d always been a fan of authentic Mexican food, but now you had even more of s reason to eat out. To see him again and talk some more- openly.

A/n: sorry if they’re out of character at all, I’ll probably post part two soon, so keep an eye out for that 🤍

Thank you for reading!!!

#lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca #Eduardo ‘Lalo’ Salamanca x reader #lalo x reader #better call Saul #Better Call Saul x Reader #Tony Dalton x Reader #Tony Dalton #I actually love him so much omfg #if this gets popular I might open requests alongside this #def gonna find a way to throw in some spice down the line #if ykyk #sorry if there’s any mistakes I deadass wrote this impulsively at 1am

[neonthewrite]

Grey Landing (Part 7)

Today's prompt is "Home", and it's another one of the few I had plans for from the very start of the month. We're back with Isaac and his buddies(?) the giant fishermen. At least one of them seems like a possible buddy, right? Right?

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

(Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10)

~~~

The giants still had to get their fishing haul somewhere. Isaac knew this. He knew that the giant that had caught him would need both hands for this task. He certainly wouldn’t waste time getting precious about some strange critter he found.

Of course, it still took him by surprise to be deposited quickly in one of the pockets on the giant’s vest.

“Oi!” he yelped, flinching as the hand around him lowered him only partially into the pocket before opening up. He fell a few feet, though thankfully not into a deep pouch that could be closed over him. He actually had to hunch a bit to settle in the pocket without feeling like he’d tip out the front of it.

It wasn’t a moment too soon. His apparent caretaker stooped a moment later to grab the handles on one of the fish coolers he and his companion had filled for their fishing trip, and Isaac groaned from the sudden downward rush. While he gripped the edge of the pocket so hard his hands turned pale, the giant paused. One of his large hands lifted to hover near the pocket. “Sgu bid dryu, nun?”

Before Isaac could ponder the attempt at a soothing tone, the other giant barked from the end of the dock, scowling back with his own cooler in his hands. “Clei!”

The younger giant‒was Clei his name, or was the other giant cussing at him?��huffed out a sigh. “Me stunt, trufus!” He gave up on Isaac for the moment, roughly grabbing the cooler and heaving it up. With his backpack and fishing poles on his back, Isaac wondered for a second if he would tip backwards.

“Careful, lad,” Isaac cautioned him. Luckily for both of them, though, the giant gained his footing and headed towards the impatient giant waiting just off the dock. The other had a lantern hanging off his much smaller pack, and the glow from it splashed across the grey beach and lit his face from beneath like some ghoulish stage makeup. When they reached the end of the dock, the older giant shot the vest pocket and its occupant a glare that was only deepened by the lighting. 

As if Isaac needed another reason not to like the man. He wasn’t the type to spook easily, but that guy didn’t make it easy to ignore the vast differences between them.

The giants trudged along the beach in the dark, and Isaac imagined his poor boat splintering under an enormous boot. There was no point in trying to stop them; they didn’t understand him and it might just make that older bastard toss him into the waves after all.

If he got away from them, he could see about coming back to look for his boat. If it’d even be seaworthy after the abuse it had already endured to get him this far.

As it was, he focused instead on the fact that they were headed for an opening in the trees. As they came closer, he saw a more obvious footpath, one that would be like a broad dirt avenue to his scale. He also noticed with some discomfort that the trees at the edge of the shore were mere saplings and they still stood about as tall as he’d expect of a fully grown tree. Which meant the trees beyond them were taller and broader than any he’d ever seen before.

He’d heard tales of trees like this out in California. He’d never sailed there before. He couldn’t be sure if those redwoods would stand up to the towers that grew all around him and the already-towering giants. The texture of the bark, the leaves, even the broken twigs from their passage, were highlighted by the lantern in stark contrast. Every shadow loomed larger than anything he’d ever seen, and in the distance creatures could be heard chattering in the woods. Wandering off this well-worn path would be a deathwish. If there were giant people here, there would be giant creatures.

The perspective wormed its way into his head. Isaac had never thought of himself as a small man, coming from a strong sailor on one side and a sturdy farm woman on the other, but here, huddled in a pocket with a fishhook stashed away as a weapon, he was small. He was on the way to a giant’s home, on a giant mountain among giant trees. Little more than the ship rat he’d playacted for the whole fishing trip.

He remembered seeing the cabin from out on the waves, back before he’d recognized the scale of things. What had originally looked like a cozy little abode was surely a cathedral of wood and smoke. And it was probably home to more than just the two giants that had found him.

Isaac was going to have to be watchful. At least one of the giants he’d met so far had no love for him at all, and he couldn’t be sure if that was the common sentiment on this bizarre mountain island.

Coulda washed up on Maui, or the Cape. Instead I’m stuck with whatever this is.

He settled in a bit. They’d reach the cabin soon enough, and then he’d have yet more giant nonsense to contend with.

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #mywriting #gt #g/t #g/t handheld #pocketed #giant tiny #handheld #giant sailor #language barrier #isaac grey

[sreyaya]

|| Modern!Norton Campbell x reader FLUFF ||

Summary: Being stuck in an elevator would suck, but maybe not this time.

Word Count:

(A/n: i'm so bad at writing fluff, kinda my first time doing this. Also sorry for the bad paragraphings kekekeke)

fluff under the cut!

Late isn't a new word for the girl who's running down the halls of the building, time always seemed to slip through the fingers of the girl, sprinting across the halls with outstanding achievements, certificates and awards for how amazing the company is, making her feel smaller for being too late for everything, adding more weight to her shoulders and of course, guilty feeling.

The girl works at a heightened place and as today, an unconvinient meeting was unfortunately held at the 28th floor of the building. Stairs wouldn't do any justice, every ascending steps was a challenge, each floor being a massive excercise for the girl.

Surveying her surrounding for at least a teeny assistance, she turnes her attention towards the conviniently available employee elevator, rushing inside and without hesitation, pressed the 28th floor.

Muttering a silent 'yes', the metal door started to close, at the same exact moment, a resonant voice pierced from the other side, "Hey! Hold on!". The girl's hand darted up to the 'open' button, revealing a curly haired ravenette popping out from the door, muttering a 'thank you', bowing slightly.

someone who doesn't look like they're from here nor belong here, she noted.

The guy had multiple prominent features. He was tall, preassumably 6 foot, a charming face too. His shoulders was broad, holding a messanger leather bag, and last but not least a deep crimson scar smeared across his face.

but you dont see that face everyday, especially in an office like this, she continued her thoughts, brushing them away soon after.

He shifted his gaze towards the panel of buttons situated on the elevator's right side. His eyes slightly widened in surprise as he noticed that the button for the 28th floor was already lit from the girl standing silently next to him. He pulled his hands back, the door finally closing fully with a faint hum.

The elevator moved at a sluggish pace, frequently used multiple times by employees indifferent to punctuality. As the metal box approached the 17th floor. The lights flickered erratically before fading away into the darkness, turning the emergency lights on. The elevator came into an abrupt halt as it was ascending towards the desired number.

Startled, the occupants inside hastily reached for the emergency evacuation button, only to find it unresponsive, adding to their growing sense of unease.

"The one day I can use the elevator, seriously?" the girl muttered under her breath, signing her stroke of misfortune, looking at her mobile with an 'x' on the corner top of her screen next to the battery numerals, signaling how there was barely any service available for contact.

The raven-haired man let out a deep sigh, equally unsure of what to do in their befalling situation, slouching at their respective corners of the elevator, a shared silence settling between them. After a few moments of idle contemplation, the man decided to break the suspension.

"I'm Norton, what's yours?" he questioned, his tone warm and inviting as he extended his hand towards the girl. With a hint of hesitation, she reciprocated the gesture, offering a small smile as they shook hands. "I'm [Name], nice to meet you," she replied, preassumably making friends in such situations.

Norton chuckled lightly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Do you rarely use the elevator? I overheard your frustration earlier," he remarked, noting the slight curse she mentioned under her breath a few minutes before. The girl nodded, a wry smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I usually take the stairs since my office is only on the 4th floor. Climbing 28 floors just for a meeting didn't seem worth the effort," she explained, a touch of sarcasm coloring her words.

In the confined space of the elevator, their laughter with moments of shared stories as they recounted their experiences within their lives. As the conversation unfolded, it became apparent that the man was really not from here.

could be a new guy, maybe someone applying for a position? his attire seems familiar but definitely not our company's, she thought to herself.

Minutes stretched into moments of connection, each exchange filling the air with warmth, even the girl was surprised at how easily they connected, playing a couple rounds of would-you-rather questions, distracting them from the misfortunes of their situation.

Amidst the laughter, the girl ranted her frustation upon working a corporate job, mentioning the relentless demands of work as multiple deadlines and responsibilities were covering her already tight schedule. She spoke of simple pleasures, like treating herself to dinner or maybe enjoying a calming night-ride over the city. Norton chuckled at the notion, thinking how that would put his mind off from his piling work too.

As the hours passed in their unexpected situation, the distant echo of footsteps of arrival from the safety department can be heared, their reassuring presence signaling an end to their captivity. With a mixture of relief and disappointment, they exhaled.

The girl offered a slight bow, expressing her gratitude for the stories and time. With a hurried farewell, she dashed towards the meeting, her heart subtly racing with the hope of salvaging what remained of her time, only to learn that the anticipated meeting had been called off.

At the lobby, amidst the flow of chatters and ongoing activities, she encountered Norton once more. With a light tap on his shoulder, she greeted him with a cheerful hello. And so, in the fleeting moments before leaving once more, they engaged in yet another conversation.

"Would you be interested in a dinner with me? Just the two of us", He asked, a slight smile gracing his lips.

"So like... a date?". the girl quipped, a playful laughter escaped her lips.

"I suppose you could call it that", He answered, his tone filled with sincerity, "I'd like to know you better".

"haha, alright then, it's a date", her face filles with warmth yet a glint of joy can be seen from her eyes.

The girl supposedly felt satisfied with today. She reached down the pockets of her jacket, her fingers brushed on a small namecard that was left, It was his.

Norton Campbell, she muttered.

In that fleeting moment, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He was THE Norton Campbell, the important figure whose absence had cancelled today's meeting. With a deep breath, she straightened her posture, examining the namecard once more.

Once again, something felt familiar. Moments before she noticed the missing puzzle piece. THE Norton Campbell, the important person holding the meeting today, the important person who didn't arrive at the meeting, that's why it was cancelled. She exhaled deeply, straightening her shoulders back up as she read the namecard once again.

Dinner at 8 on Friday, I'll pick you up cutie ;), just text me ur address later, the words on the back of the card read.

A flush of warmth spread across her cheeks once again as she grappled with the reality of the situation. HOW could such a man exist, let alone take an interest in her? Yet, there he was, offering an invitation to an evening she couldn't help but look forward to.

#norton x reader #identity v norton #identity v #idv prospector #identity v fool's gold #idv norton

[senditothemoonn]

how tall do you make scot? I like him being at least 6'6 (198cm) 8 love him being absolutely massive especially compared to fran. big boi with even bigger hands amirite? I'd love to hare your size difference thoughts/headcanons!

YESS his hands are so big and chunky and calloused and he’s always got dirt or paint or whatever under his nails while fran has such dainty little hands and slender fingers with eternally perfectly manicured nails 💅 yin and yang in perfect harmony…

I haven’t thought about EXACT heights but I think realistically Alasdair would be pretty tall, maybe like a few inches over 6 foot. And Francis would come up to about his chin or his nose (depending on whether he’s wearing heels or not teehee)

But if we're going full on exaggeration, like animated movie couple level of exaggeration then Alasdair is most definitely almost 2 metres tall and Francis is head and shoulders below him (even with heels on) Alasdair is like 3x the breadth of Francis (maybe even 4, the man is a square okay)

Because like, personally for me, I like it when the size difference is most obvious in width rather than height. Don’t get me wrong I love it when there’s a big height difference too but like I want Alasdair to be a massive rugby player with broad shoulders and a barrel chest and Francis is just this twig he could snap in half 🤤🥴😩

Because I couldn’t stop myself, OBVIOUSLY I had to sketch a semi realistic version and an exaggerated version of how I see them. I think how I draw them kinda fluctuates between the two depending on what style I want to draw in. The latter is more cartoony and rushed and what I tend to gravitate towards if I’m just making a quick sketch and cba to focus on anatomy and the first is more for if I have time to spend on a drawing.

#they are literally just fergus and Elinor #but also #if you want a more realistic version of how I see them Google Hafthor Bjornsson and his wife lmao #my art #ask #scotfra #Francis #Alasdair

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina. Why do people over exaggerate Harry's height so much, especially in fanart and fanfic? At Venice festival he was noticeably shorter than Chris Pine , who is 6 foot.

Harry seems to be about 5’11”, but often wears heeled boots. That makes him appear taller sometimes. He’s also a really slim man, with very narrow hips and a rather rectangular body shape. But there are people in this fandom who are obsessed with the idea of Harry being big and beefy. Especially in comparison to an overly feminized Louis, but also in comparison to themselves in their Y/N Wattpad imagines. All I can think is that it’s a very stereotypical heterosexual image for “the man” to be bigger and taller than “the woman”, so that’s how they picture him.

He really neither very tall, nor very broad. But he’s quite lovely just as he is, don’t you think?

#harry’s image #height difference

[brandstifter-sys]

These Dreams

Chapter 6: Crushcrushcrush        (Ao3) (must be signed in)

For @dukexietyweek 2023 Day 6 - Music

Word Count: 1058

Rating: T

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Remy

Warnings: ftm Remus, genderfluid Virgil, mtf Virgil, alcohol, sexual themes, dreams

Vi is fed up with Remy dragging her to bars every weekend just to see the live acts, mainly because a certain hottie keeps trying to get close, and he is willing to make a fool of himself for her

---

It wasn't exactly her favorite way to spend a Friday night. Vi was not a fan of dive bars that offered live music, mainly because the acts were usually mediocre. But her best friend needed a designated driver, and Remy was a pain in the ass to drive around so no one else would. 

She was leaning against the bar, as inconspicuous as possible for a 6 foot tall, broad trans femme. She didn't want to be mistaken for a drag queen or a very feminine man, so she tried to stay out of the way and drink her soda in peace. 

But she couldn't really hide when he spotted her. A wily little imp with a mustache just had to see her. She had seen him around a few times and talked with him before Remy got so drunk they had to leave. He was fun and sweet and far too hot to handle. 

"Hey there, gorgeous, funny seeing you here!" the imp purred and leaned on the bar to meet her gaze. 

"Sometimes my bitch needs to go to the dog park even if I don't," Vi said flatly and took a sip of her drink, "But you already knew that." 

"Yeah! You know, if you want a new dog, I don't mind wearing a collar and leash for you!" he purred and threw in a coy wink. He just knew how to make Vi blush like a schoolgirl without a second thought. 

"Get a flea bath first." 

"Only if you're the one soaping me up!" he giggled and shimmied. He knew he was being cute and alluring—he had to know. 

Vi took another sip of coke and tried to calm her racing heart. She was as red as a tomato and she needed a life line before she fainted from nerves. 

"Boo Boo!" 

Her saving grace, Remy, sauntered up to the bar and got between the pair, flopping back and signaling the bartender. 

The imp was only a little miffed but Remy sure as hell didn't give him a chance to voice it. 

"Babe, can you buh-lieve it!" Remy groaned, "The band is late! The hottie I wanted to smash is totes leaving if they don't play soon!" 

"You're not smashing anyone," Vi huffed, "You're drunk." 

"Vi!!" Remy whined, "He's so hot!" 

"Don't care," Vi rolled her eyes and spotted the bartender coming over. 

"Can I get you anything?" they asked and eyed Remy. 

"Another coke please, and water for him," Vi sighed as Remy fumbled to turn around. 

"Babe! Lemme get a screwdriver!" Remy huffed. That's when Vi realized that her imp was gone. She would have to thank Remy when he was sober. She couldn't handle any more embarrassing situations. 

And then loud rapid drums rang out from the stage. Vi looked over and nearly had a heart attack as soon as the guitars came in. That feral imp was on stage, holding the microphone. 

"I got a lot to say to you, yeah I got a lot to say," he sang and looked directly at her from across the room. 

"I noticed your eyes are always glued to me, keeping them here and it makes no sense at all!" 

Even at a distance she could feel the intensity of his stare. His voice vibrated through her bones. Vi wrapped her hoodie around her chest and glanced at her drunk bestie. 

Remy was smirking at her. He was not nearly as clueless as he seemed. He just had to open his mouth.

"Boo, you have a—" 

"Crush, crush, crush! Crush, crush—two three four!" 

Vi felt her face heat up again. 

"Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone. Just the one, two I was just counting on!" 

That imp was absolutely delighted to see her squirming. 

"That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again! Let's be more than this!" 

That impish little man was absolutely killing it on the stage. He was flexible, bopping around like he was singing karaoke in his room alone. 

"You're coming with me!" Remy jeered and grabbed her arm. Vi was too flustered to fight him, and let him drag her through the small crowd and assorted tables to the stage. 

The little imp spotted them and grinned as he continued to perform. Vi swore he had some trick up his sleeve. 

"—That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let's be more than this now!" he sang and leapt from the stage. 

"Rock and Roll, baby," he practically purred and sauntered up to Vi, "Don't you know that we're all alone now? I need something to sing about."

He casually ran his fingers through her hair and giggled at the way her knees trembled. 

"Rock and Roll, hey, don't you know baby," he hummed as if they were the only two people in the world, "We're all alone now? I need something to sing about!"

Vi instinctively cupped his cheek and smiled shyly when he leaned into the touch. 

"Rock and Roll, hey. Don't you know baby, we're all alone now?" he kept performing and stepped back. 

"Give me something to sing about!" 

He leapt back on stage, pissing off the guitarist in the process. He didn't seem to care. He was too giddy because of a simple touch. 

Vi couldn't look away as he performed the final chorus. He was so wily and cute, and she just wanted to drag him away to smother him with kisses. 

"—I guess I'm dreaming again," he sang and put the microphone on its stand, "Let's be more than, more than this! Oh-ho oh-oh oh-oh! Ooh—" 

Vi dragged him from the stage by his shirt and closed in on his lip. Her eyes fluttered shut as—

    A harsh guitar riff woke Vi from her impromptu nap. She groaned and sat up, peeling her face away from her keyboard. She turned off the alarm on her phone and sighed. At least she didn't have anything on screen that could be ruined by a face to the keys.

These dreams were driving her crazy! She tried therapy, different meds, but nothing kept that mustachioed gremlin from her dreams! She needed an excuse to research, so she switched from her werewolf novel to something else. She had an answer and absolutely no idea how to find a solution. But she could try one thing.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ftm!remus #mtf!virgil #genderfluid!virgil #dukexietyweek2023 #day 6 #alcohol ment tw #sex mention tw

[emomanswhore]

Like.... how tall his ghost? 🤔 I know he's a big beefy man

*grits teeth and closes palm tight to contain disgusting things from coming outta my mouth*

SMILEEYYY HEY BAE 😋💋 perfect time for me to see this, cuz im definitely in my size difference fuck me and take advantage of me while we’re standing up feelings with ghost !! so— !

ghost gotta be ATLEAST 6 foot two/ three (185-193 cm). i feel like he’s tall but not like OVERLY tall, like what makes him look so beefy is the fact that his STATURE is big. broad shoulders, wide chest… that tiny slutty waist… those thick thighs… ahem 🧎🏽‍♀️

but yeah he’s like 6”2-6”3, weighs like 240+ pounds, and he got some big ass feet. wears a size 11/12.5 in shoes and YES the feet do match what he’s packing in them cargoes 🤕🐎🍆

#letters to lorelei.📮(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) #lorelei’s lovelies.🌟(⸝⸝ᴗ͈ ̫ ᴗ͈⸝⸝)♡ #smiley.♡!! #hbu ?? #you got any thoughts on what his height n stuff are ? #ghost.♡ #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty.📁/cod

[ghoulfriendfangs]

APPRENTICEMBER DAY FIVE: Delphi AND Iliad Edition!

{Art by @governmentfundedvampiresex! In the center is xer oc Garlic! Leftmost is @fishyreject’s Rhett, and rightmost is Delphi!}

Day One: Do they have any other friends outside of canon? What about the minor characters? 

Delphi AND Iliad Edition! (So I’m not tagging my friends 100 times)

  Oh man there’s. A lot.

  I have a bunch of aus/roleplays with my friends where our apprentices interact with each other… so I’ll just use this day to describe some of the relationships between my apprentices and my friends apprentices, alongside minor characters!

   The only minor character that Delphi has a very close relationship with is Maz, who essentially fucking adopted them onsight. They took one look at this scrappy little blue pup and went “is nobody else going to feed this poor little thing some soup?”

  A joke I’ve made countless times before and will make again is that, prior to meeting Delphi, Maz had heard lots about them from Julian. Thanks to his… exaggerated descriptions, Maz was expecting a 6 foot tall, broad chested, bold and intimidating warrior wizard with a 16 pack.

  When they saw Delphi for the first time, she had to hold back a laugh.

@fishyreject’s Rhett (art by him as well)

  Delphi’s been friends with Rhett for as long as they can’t remember. They look up to Rhett immensely, secretly wishing they were as brave as he was. Rhett sees them as the sibling he’s never had (rip 2 his sister but she sux). Though they had a complicated relationship when Delphi was a court magician (thanks to Lucio playing favorites), they eventually felt confident enough to leave the well paying position and attempt to run the shop full time, and it was thanks to his support. They are… buddies. 

  If we are talking about the roleplay lore… Iliad and Rhett had an extremely rocky start. As in, “Iliad as a mecenary was tasked to hurt Rhett and all his friends” rocky. Though it was exposed that she was fed false information, and chose to join the side of the heros (not the anime ass redemption arc), Iliad… never fully forgave herself for her actions against Rhett and his family. However, she considers her and Muriel her closest friends because they’re have a similar calm, quiet nature, and they feel comfortable discussing their honest thoughts with each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@governmentfundedvampiresex’s Garlic

  Auuhaaouughha… the notorious Thripple…

  There’s a lot to be said about them! In the thripple au, Garlic is Delphi’s boyfriends boyfriend, and the three of them share a unique warrior’s bond (and something else too, but that information is cursed)

  Garlic is the most calm and supportive of the three, helping soothe Julian’s anxieties and Delphi’s stubbornness. He also cooks the best dessert of the three, to be honest. He’s a bit shy and sometimes doesn’t say aloud what he wants or needs, and Delphi wants him to be more bold and outspoken, so they encourage him heavily!

  Iliad is the same, though in a less… pushy way. She wants Garlic to find confidence in himself, too. Additionally, Iliad has many hobbies that she shares with Garlic such as knitting or cooking, though she has little time to indulge in them… but the two often find time to work together!

@l0veal0t’s Faline

  Before leaving for Vesuvius, Delphi and Iliad grew up on a small island off the coast of Olyth called Swami. It’s a rather secretive island, not appearing on most world maps. People often go there if they want a peaceful place to live in community, and not be found. Delphi and Iliad’s parents fit into the latter, but Faline’s parents simply wanted to live a quiet life on the small, independent island. But perhaps the wealth they accumulated through owning Swami’s sole trading port had much to do with it.

  Delphi, Iliad, and Swami met as small children, and became fast friends, almost inseparable. They played together as well as doing chores. They whispered secrets to each other. Faline soothed Iliad when Delphi was missing, and assumed drowned at age ten (though she thought it odd that Iliad never seemed to recall that they had died, often speaking of them as if they were still alive).

  …but during the destruction of Swami, Iliad mistakenly thought Faline was killed by the raiding pirates.

  When they reunited, Iliad was probably overjoyed by the sight of her childhood friend, and immensely relieved that she was safe and sound.

@teeth-farie’s Salem

  We have an au where Salem and Delphi do a little kissy… maybe even a smoochy.

  They’re a fun dynamic together, considering that Salem looks uncanny and terrifying but in reality they’re very cuddly and sweet, whereas Delphi is the human equivalent of a poorly socialized Pomeranian that bites ankles. 

  They hold hands everywhere. Delphi likes to carry Salem around. Salem has tasted their skin.

  Iliad is so terrified of them, very worried for Delphi at first but quickly sees how happy they make them.

#apprenticember #fan apprentice #arcana apprentice #apprentice oc #apprentice #the arcana #delphi #apprentice delphi #delphi knox getmutlich #Iliad #iliad oide #apprentice iliad #fishyreject #governmentfundedvampiresex #l0veal0t #teeth farie

[meownotgood]

I hate that fujimoto doesn't give a exact height for the characters in canon ㅠㅠ like aki is 1.90cm in the original draft but in the anime he looks like your average 1.75 man and it pisses me off because he looks tall and broad but then he's just barely taller than any female damn it's either that or everybody is as tall as him. it's so disappointing because I'm generally into tall men so seeing the draft I was like holy shit but then in the anime and manga he's tiny... I read your fics and I imagine aki being the big man he is

I know.... somewhere in my heart of hearts I believe that the animators have a height chart reference to go off of and we will get to see it someday... but until then... I suppose all we can do is go off of the concept art and guesstimate

I always imagine aki to be 6 foot 3 like in his concept art, the anime is sort of inconsistent with his stature though, like sometimes he looks tall sometimes he looks little but I feel like somewhere around 6 foot is accurate lol

#also some animators draw him with broad shoulders and a mature face #while some draw him with skinny shoulders and small face #if aki is 6'3 and makima is 5'8 like in their concepts and we compare to the anime it's pretty accurate #regardless he's definitely over 6 foot if we include topknot height.... #when he walks in the doorway if his topknot gets any taller it's gonna get caught on the doorframe!!!!! #ask mags