jk I watched one of my favourite keigo edits on insta and I got inspired. happy birthday 2 me 🫶🏻 (the main fic I was working on is still coming, but idk when exactly 🥹)
fem!reader, no physical descriptions. pure birthday fluff with tiny little minuscule amounts of angst sprinkled in bc. well. it’s a birthday. I’m sick for my 20th, so reader is too 😔
you wake up to the sound of squeaky bedroom door hinges and a quiet but still enthusiastic rendition of happy birthday.
barely awake but just alert enough to realize what’s going on, you smile and turn over on your side to face keigo. he walks in slowly with a large bag around his wrist and a cupcake with slightly squished frosting in his palms.
he sits on his designated side of the bed (the one closer to the door since he insists on being your hero at all hours of the day) and waits for you to sit up against the headboard before sticking a candle into the dessert and lighting it for you.
“make a wish, baby,” he says. with how dark the room still is in the early morning, his face is lit up from the soft glow of the flame. warmth settles in your stomach as you watch the flickering reflection in his eyes and you can only think of one thing worth wishing for.
please let this last forever. don’t let me mess it up.
you blow out the candle and he cheers, moving to sit right next to you against the headboard. you lean your head on his shoulder and he happily feeds you pieces of cupcake, feathers working overtime trying to catch all of the crumbs before they reach the bed.
when you finish chewing a piece, he says, “how are you feeling?”
you shrug. “okay today, I think. better than yesterday, for sure- I feel like I can breathe again.”
you don’t miss how he winces at your voice, definitely less congested than the last few days, but sounding even more rough from lack of use overnight. you try to clear your throat, but it turns into a coughing fit. “drink some water, angel, don’t strain yourself.”
the stream of water soothes the itch and you sigh in relief. keigo, not phased one bit by your sickness, kisses your cheek, your nose, and then your lips. “I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday, sweet girl.”
you shrug and try to play off how his nicknames are affecting you so early in the morning. “it’s okay, keigo, it could be a lot worse. a cold on my birthday isn’t the end of the world.”
his eyes soften. “yeah, but I know you were feeling more hopeful about things this year… it’s not often you get like that about your birthday, so I just wish the universe was on the same wavelength as us about that.”
you look down at your lap and pick at a loose string on the comforter. he must see your lips wobbling, because he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.
it’s quiet for a second, but soon enough you’re sniffling in his arms and he knows it’s not your cold acting up.
“it’s okay, sweetheart, let it out.”
he understands birthdays are hard for you. he’s never pried into it, but he has his suspicions.
he could push, but he knows that your issues with your own birthday are far too deep-rooted to unpack in one morning before work. he’ll save it for a later date. right now all he wants is to see you smile again, so he’ll have to distract you from your thoughts.
“baby, you deserve the whole world. you know that, right?”
you shake your head. “I don’t, though. I don’t do anything deserving of what I’ve gotten so far… I don’t work hard enough, I don’t always make the best decisions for myself, I guess I’m a good person, but I could do so much better… I’m just so average. I barely even deserve-“
you end your rant with a half-hearted gesture in no particular direction, but he gets the idea and he frowns in concern.
“me? you don’t think you deserve…me?”
guilt keeps you from meeting his gaze again and he sighs.
his angel, his baby, the love of his life. the one. he just wants to take it all away.
you take things to heart too easily sometimes, so this moment might just be things you’ve let bubble up more recently… but his instinct and familiarity both tell him that these aren’t new feelings.
“sweet girl, I think it’s the other way around. I don’t think I’m very deserving of someone as incredible as you.”
you blink and finally meet his eyes again. “but…”
he doesn’t let you continue. “I would give you anything you asked for just for existing, baby. you don’t have to do a damn thing for my love.”
reaching over to grab the bag he had around his wrist earlier, he presents it to you with a wide grin and an excited glint in his eyes. “but I’ll start with this.”
you take the bag and pull out what looks like a scrapbook. the cover is decorated with foam stickers that spell out both of your names and badly cut paper hearts that look to be taken from sparkly card-stock. the book itself is made from faux-leather in your favourite colour.
your eyes travel up from the photo album to keigo, curiously. he’s happy to see a small smile forming on your face and he wipes away the last of your tears with a feather. “keigo, did you-“
he chuckles a little nervously. “I know it’s not the best work you’ve ever seen, but I wanted to make something by hand for you. I, um, I’ve never really done arts and crafts before.”
he recognizes the sound that comes out of your mouth to be the same one you make when you see a stray animal. he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but the smile on your face as you examine each page (twenty pages total, all hand decorated with printed pictures of you both documenting significant moments over the course of your relationship) makes him think the latter.
“I have other gifts for you, of course, but I know you’ve been talking about having a physical photo album instead of a digital one for a while now, so I thought I’d try it. If you don’t like it, that’s totally okay we can-“
you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. “keigo, shut up, this is the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. there are songs associated with every picture. you’re literally so cute, where did you even get the idea for that?”
he laughs against your lips when you say that and shakes his head. “you’re joking, right? you always have a song for every occasion, how could I pass up on the opportunity?”
you press your lips against his again and he melts into it, relived that you like his first (of many) gift.
he watches you flip through it a couple more times with a smile before taking it and placing it on the nightstand. “alright, birthday girl, you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”
“you’re going to work?” you try to keep the disappointment out of your voice, but he hears it anyway and he’s so happy he planned for this.
“nope! I’m all yours today. I booked it off months ago, I just want you to rest up a bit more. you’re still sick, remember?”
he snickers when your hopeful smile drops at the mention of your cold. “ugh don’t remind me. but if I’m going back to sleep, you’re coming with me. you don’t have an excuse anymore and it’s my birthday, so I have some sway.”
“you always have sway, baby,” he says while getting under the covers with you.
“yeah, but I’m extra convincing today,” you argue, and he knows if he doesn’t curb the conversation right now, you’ll never fall back asleep.
“alright, alright, come here. just rest,” he tugs you down to lay on his chest and reaches under your shirt to caress your back.
“hey keigo?” you ask after a minute, voice once again riddled with sleep.
“mhm?”
“when you eventually get sick and I have to take care of you, can we add to the scrapbook some more?”
it’s a given that you would continue it together, but he doesn’t say that because he knows you’re too tired for the realization to hit you yet. so instead he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “of course, angel. that sounds great.”
you’re lulled to sleep a few minutes later to the sound of his voice whispering the sweetest of sweet nothings.
“happy birthday, baby.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
okay this is unedited bc it’s not even 7 am while I’m typing this and I don’t have time later to change anything, so I’M SORRY 😭
the other bday fic is coming I swear 🥹
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heyyy could u write something where like reader is about to shower but starts to get really insecure and kinda has a breakdown, BUT ellie reassures her. (pls also give reader stretch marks bc i've been so insecure abt mine lately and i have them literally everywhere. thighs, hips, even on my boobs lol) <3
ELLIE WILLIAMS X INSECURE!READER
mdni please<3
warnings: 18+!! but tbh its minors safe this time i think ??
writers note: just a reminder youre all beautiful no matter what!! beauty standards or wtv was it called are something we shouldnt base our life on but we sadly do. self love is the key to happiness and dont let other people ruin it!!🩷🩷and to our lovely anon, you dont need to worry about stretch marks. trust me, most of people dont even pay attention to them! its nothing 'special in a bad way'. i lately got some too, right before my holidays and theyre sooo visible through my summer clothes but its something you can get used to be comfortable with. please, anon, dont think less of yourself because of them nor any other insecurities. and this comes to everyone!!💞
it was already late so you were getting ready to take a shower to not waste any more time. you put your clothes on a nearby shelf. you stood in front of the mirror in your underwear only, looking for anything that could be possibly pointed out, like you didn't have enough insecurities already. feeling rather self-conscious, you were examining your reflection for any flaws or imperfections. every detail of your body was being inspected up-close, from the lines on your stomach, to the size of your thighs, to the shape of your shoulders and face. your eyes were scanning every inch of you, seeking any signs of something you could hate, even if others wouldn't notice them. you couldn't help but wonder if the things you were stressing over were even worth worrying about, or if you were just creating problems where they didn't exist.
either way, you couldn't help but hate them. and since you mostly focused on bad things and you didn't see your advantages - you hated yourself. in your eyes your whole body could change. or even should change.
the more you stared at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every little thing, the more you hated what you saw. it felt like nothing was good enough, like every little imperfection needed to be changed or worked on. you felt like you could never measure up to this impossible standard, like your entire body was inadequate. the insecurities were eating away at you, gnawing away until any confidence or self-love you might've had was gone.
that was the moment your eyes beginned to get glossy. you didn't cry though, oh, no. you hated the way you look when you cry, just like everything else, so you tried your best to hold back tears. the floodgates were beginning to open, but you held them back with everything you had. you despised the way you looked when you cried: the tears down your cheeks, your puffy eyes, all those disgusting, revolting imperfections. as much as you hated your flaws, you despised your crying face even more. you would never let anyone see you like that, never.
suddenly, your girlfriend and roommate in one, knocked on the door. "everything okay in there?"
she must notice you're taking your time instead of simply taking a shower already.
you stayed silent, knowing if you try to open your mouth you couldn't control what comes from them. you'd probably break down and the thick door won't be enough to mute your pathetic sobs.
you didn't want to answer, but then again, you knew if you stayed quiet, your girlfriend would eventually come in and check on you. you had to keep yourself together. you couldn't fall apart right in front of her like that.
you let out a shaky breath and replied, "yeah, everything's fine." you could feel your voice cracking with each word, but you were determined not to let her see you in such a sorry state.
what if she sees me the way i see myself?
your girlfriend wasn't fooled by your shaky reply. even if you denied it, she knew something was wrong. she heard the emotion in your voice and could sense the struggle to keep yourself together. without another word, she opened the door and walked in.
"what's wrong, pretty girl?" she asked when she didn't saw your glossy eyes yet.
you, on the other hand, couldn't control yourself anymore. the nickname 'pretty girl' hit you instantly, thinking you're anything but pretty.
pretty.
girl.
those two words hit you harder than a punch to the gut, evoking a strong reaction that you tried to mask. you took a deep breath to steady your voice so that you didn't break, but it was impossible to sound completely calm when you felt so much pain just from those two words.
"nothing." you muttered quietly, but your voice sounded more like a choke than a word.
she hugged you from behind, looking in the same, unlucky mirror. her hands softly touched the scretch marks on your hips as she hold onto them, gently rocking you back and forth.
you wanted nothing more than to reject this hug and flee from your own reflection in the mirror, but you were too weak to pull away.
"nothing?" she asked gently, planting little kisses from your neck to shoulders.
you felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over you as your girlfriend's touch revealed the marks on your hips. she immediately spotted them and caressed them with her soft hands.
it all felt too much. you were fighting so hard to hold yourself together, but when she touched you, it all came crashing down. the tears finally escaped and you began to sob, clinging onto her tightly as you broke down. "no... not nothing..."
she held you close, feeling your warmth as her arms wrapped around you and her hands comforted your pain. she rubbed your back and kissed your neck as she tried to soothe you. "shh, come here, it's okay..." she whispered gently.
she led you over to the bed and laid you down. she carefully took off her shirt, leaving on only her bra and boxers, then laid down with you, hugging you tightly. she kissed your neck, your face, brushed your hair back, caressed your body, your stretch marks, your insecurities (at least the ones she knew about), anything to try and comfort you. she whispered words of reassurance and love as she tried to fill you with the affection you felt you lacked. "i love you, my pretty girl... i love you." she repeated those words again and again, hoping you'd believe that someone could love you, and that someone was her.
ellie continued to hold you tightly as you cried into her. your tears soaked into her bra, but she didn't mind; you'd done that many times before. she rubbed your back in soothing circles as she let you let it all out, and she made small shushing noises in your ear. your sobs turned into whimpers and then into a soft murmur, and as your emotions died down, she gently wiped away the tears, replacing them with kisses.
as she noticed you calmed down she slightly pulled away to get a better look at you. "can you tell me what's wrong now?"
"i... it's just..." you started, and your voice broke as you tried to find the words. your girlfriend gave you her undivided attention, focusing on you and only you. "i- i don't feel pretty... i don't feel good enough... i don't feel... enough."
with her eyes looking deep into yours, you couldn't help but be vulnerable as you opened up to her. your insecurities and flaws, the things you tried so hard to hide, were all laid bare in front of her now.
a pang of guilt hit you in that moment.
what am i doing?
ellie was so sweet and loving, and you felt like you were just taking advantage of her kindness. like you're just an attention seeker.
but before you could say anything, she pressed a finger to your lips.
"no. shut your mouth." she said sternly, and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "that's not true. i don't wanna hear it, not another word." she leaned in and pressed her soft lips to yours.
you found yourself sitting on her lap, as she stroked your hair, whispering something or kissing you from time to time. you told her all about it, about what and how you feel. and she listened.
you were so lost in your emotional story you didn't even notice the way she slowly took off her rings - one by one, and placed them on a bedside shelf.
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New York or Nowhere
Part three: Dicked Down at the Deli
Bodega Owner!Joel Miller x F!Reader
New York or Nowhere Masterlist
Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist
Author's note: Okay two things: 1. I think this is some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!? 😛 and 2. In part one I included a sentence about how the reader has lived in Manhattan her whole life but I changed it to the reader being from Long Island instead. Just bringing that up because it gets mentioned again! It's really not that significant to the story but I didn't want y'all to read this and notice a plot hole/continuity error.
Chapter summary: You find yourself reeling at the fact that Joel gave you a fake number so you decide to go out with your friends. After a tense moment at the bar you leave to go confront Joel which turns into something else pretty quickly.
Word count: 4k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak, canon divergent, drinking, argument between friends, Jessica being ignorant af, Joel being a lil creep, age gap (unspecified), making out, groping, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, sugar, good girl, pretty girl, dirty girl 😵💫), slight degradation, dub con bc reader is drunk, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), semi public sex (I think??), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, light choking, no use of y/n
You spend the next few days seething; at Joel for giving you a fake number but also at yourself for buying into his bullshit. You thought you actually had something with him, or at least the start of something. What did he gain from flirting with you and giving you a fake number?
And the worst part is you’re having sex dreams about him; about him fucking you over the check out counter… or pressed up against the window. You imagine he has a big cock and that he’s talented with his hands. You think how big his hands are and imagine how they would feel roaming your body. Too bad it’s not looking like you’re getting that anytime soon.
The next weekend rolls around and you and your friends are at your apartment, getting ready for a night out at a rooftop bar called Night of Joy in your neighborhood. You get ready at your apartment together, all of you doing your hair and makeup together. You, Jessica and Charlotte are in your best clubbing dresses. And Nathaniel in black jeans and a button down shirt with the first few buttons at the top undone. They can sense something is off with you but no one brings themselves to question it.
“After we’re done at the bar tonight can we go back to that deli?” you ask.
Charlotte stops putting on her makeup and gives you a knowing look in the reflection of the bathroom mirror but chooses not to say anything. Nathaniel, however, comes right out and says, “Why? So you can see that creepy old guy again?”
“EW!” Jessica calls from across your apartment.
“What do you mean ew?!” you ask, looking at your friends.
“Girl, he’s ug,” Jessica says.
“He’s not terrible looking… but he’s old and creepy,” Nathaniel adds.
Charlotte keeps her gaze on you as she stays by the bathroom mirror, the knowing look never leaving her face and never saying a word.
“Fine, I’ll go by myself,” you shrug.
“Come on, we can’t let her go alone, Jess,” Charlotte pleads.
“Yes, we can. It’s just a bodega. She’ll be fine,” Jessica says, folding her arms.
“We established he’s a creep and you’re gonna let her go alone?” Nathaniel asks.
“I’ll go with you,” Charlotte says, offering you a reassuring smile.
“Thanks, Char,” you respond before going back to getting ready, feeling annoyed at Jessica. Out of all your friends, she’s always the one who goes against you about literally anything. You feel your frustration bubble up but you decide to ignore it for the sake of having a good night.
The four of you leave and walk to Night of Joy together. Charlotte and Nathaniel try too hard to break the tension between you and Jessica, talking about anything and everything to fill the silence. You play along a little, feeding into their small talk but Jessica isn’t having any of it. As if you did something wrong by having a crush on the bodega man… The same bodega man who gave you a fake number. Whatever, you’re gonna drink to forget your feelings anyway. Maybe if you stop there tonight you’ll have enough liquid confidence to confront him about it.
You arrive at bar and head up to the roof. And to your absolute fucking delight there’s a frozen margarita station. You make the mental decision to get plastered here, head over to Beldro’s after to confront Joel, and wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his face.
You sit at a table near the edge of the roof with your friends, each of you sipping your margarita with an uncomfortable, palpable tension weighing heavily on everyone. Leave it to Jessica to ruin a night out. You look out into the distance at the view from the roof, scanning the neighborhood. You’re still somewhat new to this area. You’re from New York, yes, but really… Long Island. You came to the city a lot growing up and you feel like a “true New Yorker” but to Jessica… you’re really not. You met your friends at your new job at a PR firm and all of them grew up here besides you. And while Charlotte and Nathaniel are genuinely good friends to you, Jessica isn’t, to say the least. She’s your classic New York elitist, looking down on anyone who isn’t already from here.
You’re lost in thought looking at the view and that’s when you notice Beldro’s a few blocks down, just barely in view. But you can’t miss those bright green awnings. The conversation starts to pick up between your friends. And though you can’t see it, Jessica notices you’re not paying attention and follows your gaze.
“Are you gonna engage with your friends or what?” Jessica asks.
You’re snapped from your thoughts and you turn back to your friends. Jessica shoots daggers with her glare, like she can see right into your mind and what you’re thinking about.
“So… how’s your new beau?”
“My new what?”
“Your little creep.”
“There’s literally nothing there?”
“Your behavior seems to indicate otherwise,” she says. Her words cut like a knife, making you feel guilty just for having a simple crush.
“Why do you care so much?” your voice quivering just a bit. You shouldn’t be afraid to stand up for yourself but she makes you feel small.
“No friend of mine is going to be a thing with a New York transplant.”
“C’mon, Jess. That’s like xenophobic,” Nathaniel drunkenly adds.
“Okay that’s a bit of a stretch but this is still ridiculous. And you say transplant like it’s a bad thing? You know I’m a New York transplant, right?” you respond, your anger and disbelief overshadowing any shred of self consciousness you had before.
“Yeah but you’re still from here. He’s some country bumpkin who thinks he can make it here.”
“You sound insane right now. Anyone can move to New York, Jessica. I think you forget that this city is literally made up of immigrants.”
“It doesn’t mean you have to associate with one.”
“It’s hard to live in New York and not associate with an immigrant. And you know what, I’m done with this conversation. I’m just trying to have a good time and for your information I just wanna go back to that deli for the cat,” you respond angrily, looking just to truly end this once and for all.
That seems to shut her up for now and she resigns to drinking her margarita before going up for another.
“She can get… a little out of control,” Nathaniel says after she leaves.
“That’s one way to put it,” you mumble.
The four of you drink together with the tension still hanging heavy in the air. You feel bad for Charlotte and Nathaniel, absolute angels for humans who are just trying to keep the peace. You get up for a second round. And then a third round. You’re just a liiittle bit drunk and frankly you don’t want to be here anymore. You have all the liquid courage you need to head straight to Beldro’s and to confront that stupid asshole. But you also can’t deny how much you want him. If there was a word for a mix between angry and horny, that would be you right now.
“I think I’m all set,” you say to your friends.
“Yeah, me too,” Charlotte says.
Nathaniel downs his drink and rises from his chair. But Jessica sits at the table with arm folded and a scowl on her face.
“I never said I was ready to leave,” she says stiffly.
You, Charlotte and Nathaniel freeze, unsure of what to do. The three of you exchange glances awkwardly before Jessica continues.
“Were you guys really just gonna leave me alone here?!”
“No? We just thought we were all done?” you say.
“Definitely not,” Jessica says, finishing her drink and getting up for another. She walks back to the margarita station and Nathaniel turns to you.
“You guys go. I’ll stay with bitty,” he says.
“Are you sure?” you ask but he waves you off.
“Go! Be safe. Go get your creepy old man,” he finishes with a wink.
You and Charlotte wave goodbye before heading down the stairs. As soon as you step out onto the street she asks you, “Do you want me to walk you to that deli?”
“Sure,” you reply. She nods and you both walk silently in the direction of Beldro’s. You’re grateful for her support and her friendship even though you know she doesn’t understand your attraction to Joel.
As you walk to Beldro’s the familiar green awnings and orange exterior get closer and closer. The butterflies form in your stomach in anticipation. The nerves are kicking in and you do your best to bury them down. The whole point of getting plastered was to come here and confront Joel, not to chicken out at the last second. You stop in front of the door and turn to Charlotte.
“Thanks for walking with me but I think I got it from here.”
“You sure?”
You nod and she pulls out her phone to order an Uber.
“Okay but call me if you need anything,” she says.
“I’ll be fine! But text me when you get home,” you say before waving goodbye and entering through the door.
You see Joel at his usual spot behind the counter, dressed in jeans, a light gray t-shirt that hugs his biceps tightly, and the classic name tag. This time he’s talking to someone; a man. It could just be a customer but it’s a conversation like he already knows this person. Joel makes brief eye contact with you before averting his gaze and continuing his conversation. You walk up and down the few aisles in the store, killing time and waiting for Joel to be done. After what feels like the tenth time walking past the potato chips you hear, “See ya later, Bill” followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.
You turn at the end of the aisle you’re in and march right up to the counter, pulling out your phone and opening the failed text thread with Joel.
“Care to explain this??” you say, holding out your phone in front of his face.
He blinks a few times and says, “Hang on, sugar. I can’t read this when you’re holding the phone like that,” taking it in his hand.
“Yeah no I still can’t read this, sweetheart. Let me get my glasses.”
He sets the phone down on the counter and grabs his glasses (rectangular lenses, black metal frame) from the shelf underneath the cash register before putting them on and bringing the phone by his face again. You expect for him to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he gave you a fake number but instead he starts… laughing?!
“And you’re laughing because??” you say, folding your arms.
“Because I have a landline, sugar. I really meant it when I said you had to call me,” he says, handing your phone back and putting his glasses away.
Boy do you feel stupid right now. Joel’s gotta be in fifties and you really thought he would be an avid texter. You don’t say anything, feeling too embarrassed to say another word. But Joel reads the expression on your face and says, “Don’t worry about it, sugar. You’re cute when you’re fired up anyway.”
“Oh really?” you ask, hoping to turn this around.
“Mhm. And I saw what your text said. You wanted to take me up on my offer?” he says, paired with a shit-eating grin.
“I did,” you say slyly, resting your elbows on the counter.
“Did?” he asks, leaning forward and bending down a little.
His face is only inches away from yours. You look into his eyes before scanning the rest of his face. His brown eyes gaze into yours and his glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose. His facial hair, slightly graying, peppers his face in patches. His warm breath tickles your face and before you know it you’re inching forward even more, really depending on that liquid courage right now. His hand moves to the back of your neck and he closes the gap for you, pulling your lips into his. The kiss is sort of awkward at first, with both of you leaning over the counter and your slight height differences. He tastes like cigarettes and fireball; exactly what you thought he'd taste like.
You pull back and ask, “Fireball?”
“That would be cinnamon for those of us who aren’t alcoholics.”
“Hey! I’m not an alcoholic!!”
“You have come into my store completely shitfaced two times in one week now,” he deadpans.
“Hey come on, shitfaced is a bit of an exaggeration. What about tipsy?”
“Now you’re being too generous with yourself there, sugar,” he chuckles before pulling you in for another kiss.
The kiss grows more passionate and now you wish this stupid counter wasn’t in between you two. You need his body against yours as soon as possible. You pull away again and ask, “Shouldn’t we stop? I mean, what if someone comes in…”
“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” he says,
He moves out from behind the counter and walks past you, flipping the “We’re Open!” sign on the door to say “Sorry, We’re Closed.”
“Are we going somewhere?” you ask, watching him move from the door to the windows. He doesn’t say anything and starts closing the blinds.
“Uhh what are you-”
“You said you didn’t want anyone to come in,” he says, pulling a key out of his pocket and locking the door.
“And you do?”
He turns around, walks back to you and says, “I wouldn’t mind people watching,” with a smirk.
“Watching what?” you ask as he grabs your hand and leads you behind the counter.
“Watching me fuck you over the counter,” he replies grabbing your waist.
“On the same counter you make sandwiches on?”
“Mhm, I’ll give ya one with extra meat,” moving one hand to the hem of your dress, slowly sliding it up.
You snort a little bit prompting him to say, “You can laugh all you want but I know that did something for ya,” while sliding his hand fully under the skirt of your dress. You shudder at his touch as his fingers tug at the seam of your underwear. He’s right, though. You’re already wet, leaving a small patch of the fabric damp. You lean back against the counter and spread your legs slightly, silently asking for more. You lean back against the edge of the counter and he follows you, planting kisses along your neck and collarbone. His warm breath tickles your neck as he nips at your soft skin, inhaling your enticing scent and driving him crazy. You rest your elbows on the counter behind you and throw your head back in pleasure, exposing more of your neck for him. He trails his tongue from the shell of your ear down your neck and to your collarbone, stopping at top of the bodice of your dress. He pulls the strap of your dress down shoulder, keeping his other hand in between your thighs and teasing your entrance. He tugs at the top of your dress exposing one of your breasts, replacing his lips on your skin and running his tongue over your nipple. He takes it in his mouth and sucks it lightly, finishing by taking it in between his teeth and biting it softly.
“Fuck, Joel,” you moan as he releases your nipple with a pop.
“You want more, sugar?” he says against the curve of your breast.
“P-please,” you whimper.
“Begging for me? Good girl,” he chuckles. You whine at the praise and arch your back, pushing your breast into his face more.
“Up,” he murmurs into your skin. He moves his hands to your waist and supports you as you hop up onto the counter. He hooks his fingers around your underwear and slides them off before dropping to his knees and spreading your thighs apart. He pauses for a moment and marvels at how wet you are already.
“Oh shit you’re fucking soaked; soaked by the thought of taking this old man’s cock, huh?”
“Yes, Joel, please. Fuck,” you moan, desperate for his cock, his mouth, his fingers– anything. He brings his face closer to your cunt and exhales, sending a shiver through you. He flicks his tongue around your clit in short motions, not giving you the full thing.
“Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you practically cry out, suddenly feeling self conscious that someone on the street can hear you.
“Aw, don’t cry, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh before sucking your clit. You reach between your legs and run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it when he suck’s your clit extra hard. He brings a hand up to your belly, pushing you lightly and prompting you to lay down completely. You oblige and rest your back on the counter as he hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt taught against his face. He brings his face a tad lower so you can grind your clit against his nose as he tongue-fucks your cunt, lapping up every last drop of wetness you produced thanks to him. You grind harder against him, almost suffocating him but in return he hums happily against you. He pulls away for a second to bring his fingers to lips, licking them and pushing two inside you with no warning. His mouth moves back to his clit, sucking hard as he fingers you. You’re teetering on the edge of orgasm, the muscles in your core tensing up in anticipation of a big release. With one last come here motion of his fingers you’re coming against his hand and face, your cunt clenching and relaxing around him sporadically as you ride out your high. You feel the wetness pooling around you so you sit up quickly, anxious to see the mess you just made.
“Well look at that. You soaked my counter, pretty girl,” Joel says, face slick with your wetness just like your thighs and the counter beneath you.
“S-sorry,” you whisper, catching your breath.
“Don’t be sorry, sugar. Tastes real fuckin’ good,” he says before licking one more stripe up your cunt. You gasp at the sudden contact again and moan, ready to take his cock already. He rises and says, “Be a good girl and bend over for me.”
You stumble to your feet and he grabs your hips, spinning you around so you bend over the counter. You stand on your tiptoes and arch your back, sticking your ass up for him. He grinds against you, keeping his hands on your waist. You feel his rock hard bulge rub against you so you push yourself back into him, shaking your ass against his cock.
“You feel that, sugar? Look what you do to me.”
“I need it inside me. Now,” you beg.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out. He pulls up your skirt above your waist and brings a hand to your cunt. You feel his fingers gather some of your wetness, spreading it from the tip of his cock to the base. He grabs your hips and pushes into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size. You wish you got to see it before he fucked you because you know it’s huge judging by the way it’s expanding your walls. He pulls you into him, burying his cock deep into your cunt with each thrust. One hand moves to your breast, pinching your nipple into a stiff peak between his fingertips. The other hand moves to your throat and forces you upright against him.
“You take my cock so good, you little slut,” he purrs into your ear.
You’re too cock drunk to form a coherent response, just whining back to him.
“You think you can come into my store in a skimpy little dress and act up without me fucking the shit out of you after,” he chuckles, pinching your nipple his finger on the last word.
“It’s so good, Joel. So deep,” you cry out, feeling tears spring in the corners of your eyes.
“Yeah, that’s it. Be a good girl and take. my. fucking. cock,” he slays, drawing back and slamming his hips into you after every word.
You feel yourself at the brink of orgasm in no time. Stars form in your vision as he fucks the shit out of you, keeping his grip on your neck and nipple tight as he plows you. Your cunt pulsates around him as you arrive at your final orgasm for the night, your knees buckling underneath you due to the sheer force of you coming. Joel pulls out when he feels your orgasm come to an end and paints your lower back and ass in his cum.
“Good fucking girl,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head. Your cheeks go hot at his praise.
You both stay there for a moment before he slaps your ass and says, “Hang on. Don’t move.”
You hear him tear off a sheet from a roll of paper towels and feel it wipe up the cum on your back and ass. You stand up straight and smooth your skirt back down, also fixing the top of your dress. You turn and get a look at him in his post sex haze. To your chagrin his cock is already put away but you notice that his shirt has more sweat stains than usual and his forehead is shiny. That old man fucked you good.
Before either of you can say anything, you hear Ellie come scurrying in from the back.
“Ellie!” you say, bending down to pet her, “I was wondering where you were.”
“You wanna take her home tonight?” he says, looking down at you.
“Really?!” you ask in shock.
“Mhm. Let me get her carrier,” he says, walking to the back.
“Carrier?! And you said she wasn’t your cat…” you tease.
“Whatever,” he says, returning back with the carrier, “Just bring her back in the morning.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else I’ll have to punish you again.”
“Oh, okay. So it looks like I’m keeping her forever I guess.”
“You’re funny,” he says, bending down and scoops Ellie into the carrier, “But I’m sure you’ll come in here and do something stupid and I’ll have to punish you again.”
You scoff in response.
“Come on, you know it’s true.”
“Yeah whatever,” you say, grabbing a pad and pen on the counter. You write down your name and phone number since you just realized he did all this with you without even knowing your name. You trade the piece of paper with him as he hands you Ellie.
“That’s my phone number and my name, ya know since… you ate me out and fucked me all without knowing my name… Do you do this with all of your customers?” you tease.
“Just on Friday nights,” he shrugs, “But are you okay getting home?” he asks, opening the cash register to count out the drawer for the night.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Alright well have fun at your little sleepover, sugar,” he says.
You walk to the door with Ellie in hand and before you leave he says, “Oh and by the way, I told ya you’d get extra meat.”
“You know you’re just so funny,” you say sarcastically, waving goodbye and leaving through the door.
You walk home and think about how you really won tonight. Between getting dicked down at the deli and a sleepover with the cat, how could it get any better than this?
Banners + dividers by cafekitsune
End note: Don’t worry he disinfected the counter after 🫣
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