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honeyedmiller · 8 months

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Ride, Cowgirl | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: smut, dom!reader, (semi) sub!Joel, shy! reader, reader is unsure of themselves for .2 seconds, Joel is sweet and encouraging, some fluff and aftercare, takes place in Jackson, implied unprotected piv, choking, riding, spitting, edging, pussy job, face sitting, no use of y/n. I’m sorry this is literally just pure filth lmaooo hope u enjoy :-) 18+. minors, do not interact.

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: you tell joel one of your fantasies that’d been on the back burner, but he encourages you to bring it to life.

not revised (per usual) so sorry if there’s any mistakes!

It was a cozy fall morning in Jackson. You and Joel lazed in bed on your day off, enjoying each other’s company.

So far, it’d been nothing but stolen kisses and soft whispers of endearment, so, naturally, you had no fucking clue how the conversation got to where it was now.

“No, now y’have to tell me, sweetheart. Swear I won’t laugh.” Joel coaxed, brushing your hair out of your face. You groaned and shrunk into the pillows of the bed, trying to hide your face from your beloved boyfriend.

“No, Joel. It’s stupid anyway.” You argue, shaking your head.

“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad, can it darlin’?”

“Yes. It’s unrealistic.”

“Just tell me.” He’s smiling down at you softly, patiently, waiting for you to tell him what you’ve always fantasized about doing in bed.

“Fine. I’ve always wondered,” You swallow thickly, taking a deep breath. “What it would like to be a dom. Just for a little.”

Joel raised an eyebrow at you, looking at you in shock. Out of all the things he was thinking you’d tell him, it definitely wasn’t that. You were generally a shy person, and quite frankly didn’t seem to have one dom bone in your body. But, you’ve surprised Joel time and time again, so he wouldn’t put it completely past you that you’d had a hankering to try something like this.

“Fuck, it’s stupid, I know.” You start, reprimanding yourself for saying anything in the first place.

“No, it’s not stupid darlin’. Jus’ didn’t expect something like this from you.” Joel cooed, kissing your forehead.

“I know I can be, I guess, more reserved… but I save my true self for you and Ellie.” You reasoned, giving him a shy, lopsided smile.

“I know you do, baby. Is this something you really want to try?” He’s serious now, eyes scanning your face.

Of course you were apprehensive, but if big, bad, mean Joel was going to let you live out this fantasy of yours, you couldn’t dare pass it up.

“Yes,” You squeak. “But I obviously wouldn’t go to the full extent. Just… wanting to be in charge only once.” You shrug. You didn’t mind Joel being the dom all the time. Quite frankly, it was hot, and despite his age (which you couldn’t give two fucks about, because the world fucking ended twenty years ago for fuck’s sake), he kept things real interesting in the bedroom.

If you were to ever say your sex life with Joel Miller was boring, you’d be lying straight through your fucking teeth.

That man was insatiable for his age, and his libido was incredible. He never ceases to amaze you, even ‘til this day.

“Okay,” Joel said softly. “Let’s do it.”

Your eyebrows shot up to the top of your forehead. Was he seriously going to go through with this? I’ve-killed-half-of-Salt-Lake-City Joel, ready to be a submissive to little ‘ol you?

“Are you serious?” The shock in your tone was transparent, sitting up in bed a little to look at him in all seriousness.

“Absolutely. If that’s one of your fantasies, I’ll help you live it. But,” He paused, giving you a stern look. It was half playful, half dead serious. “You tell no one that we’re doing this, okay? I have a reputation to uphold here.”

You snorted at his last comment, rolling your eyes. “Please, Miller, I don’t talk to anyone about our sex life anyways. I like to keep the dirty things we do to ourselves, thank you very much.” The smug smile that curled onto your lips made Joel’s twitch.

“Alright, so, how do you want to do this?” He asks, folding his arms behind his head.

“Wait, you mean we’re doing it now?”

“Why not? Ellie’s at Dina’s for the weekend, so we have allll day baby.” Joel smirked up at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Fuck, um, okay. I don’t know where to start.” Nerves took over you as you were painfully regretting this decision to go through with it.

“Start with telling me some simple ground rules. That usually gets you in the mood.” Joel unravels one arm from behind his head, reaching out to rub your arm gently.

“Right, okay,” You trembled nervously, but you took a deep breath to get your mind into a dominatrix headspace. “First things first,” You stare down at him, lust clouding your vision. “Only speak when spoken to. Don’t touch me unless I give you permission, and you’ll only address me as ma’am. Got it?” You look down at him, trying to hide your nervousness as best as possible.

Joel’s cock stirred at your words, acquiescing with your rules.

“Say it.” Your voice is stern as you get on top of him, straddling his thighs. It took everything in him not to reach up and grab you. You wore nothing but an oversized shirt of his, and the sight of you in it with a daring glint in your eyes drove him absolutely wild.

“Yes ma’am.” He agreed.

“Good. Now take off your boxers.” You instructed, lifting your weight off of him so he could slide them off of his body.

His cock was already leaking pre cum, the tip swollen and begging for attention. The sight nearly made your mouth water, but you had to keep your façade up. He looked up at you, waiting for your next set of instructions.

You moved up on him again so your bare, aching heat was hovering over his erection. You lowered yourself onto him, teasing his length with your slick folds. Your arousal made it easy for you to grind yourself onto him.

He clamped his eyes shut, hissing at the feeling of you teasing him so.

“Mm, feel so fucking good honey. This cock is all mine, you got that?” You peered down at him, and he nodded frantically.

“What did I say about speaking when spoken to?” You snap, even surprising yourself with how promiscuous your tone was coming off as.

“Y-yes ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Good boy.” You smirk, and he groaned at that.

“Quiet.” You warn, moving your hips again to your leisure. Joel’s cock throbbed underneath your aching cunt, and not being able to touch you or speak was driving him fucking wild.

You continued your movements, and you could tell Joel was close when he started to pant really hard. He wasn’t going to cum that easy. Just as he was about to tip over the edge, you lifted your hips, causing him to throatily whine.

“Fuck, darlin–”

“What did I just say about you being quiet?” You snap, leaning forward to wrap one of your hands around his neck. You were careful not to crush his windpipe, but gave the sides of his thick throat some pressure with your small hands.

Never in his life did Joel think being choked would be hot. It really wasn’t something he was fond of, but right now, with you, it was the hottest thing ever. Seeing you go from shy and quiet to choking him and being in complete and utter control made him nearly lose his mind.

“Open your mouth.” You commanded, and he obeyed immediately. You spit into his mouth, moving your hips back down to where your throbbing cunt met his pleading cock. His eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed what you gave him, biting his lip in agony as you started to grind on him again. And, once more, you denied him access to cum.

You knew once Joel went back to being his dominant self, he’d punish you back ten fold, so you had to tread lightly. Desperate whimpers and moans elicited from his throat, and you let go of his neck to look down at him.

“You’re just not getting it, are you?” You scoff, and you move off of him again. This time, you shift your body so your dripping heat is hovering right above his mouth. “Maybe this’ll help shut you up.”

You waste no time in making yourself comfortable on his face, and he immediately reacts. His tongue is ravishing you like a starved man, sucking on your clit with care before licking up and down your slick folds. You start to rock your hips on his face, your clit catching on his nose just right.

Joel had the right mind to tease you this way and deny you of an orgasm too, but he knew you wouldn’t be so forgiving to him since he was the one who encouraged you to carry out this fantasy.

“Touch yourself, honey. But do not cum.” You told him, and he moaned into you. He began to tug at his silky flesh, and he thumbed at the slit on his swollen and neglected head. His tongue was buried deep into you, and the suckling and slurping sounds he made were nothing short of obscene and extremely erotic.

You felt Joel tense again, nearing his release once more. He just prayed to whatever was out there that you’d let him cum this time.

“Wanna cum, honey?” You coo, tangling your fingers in his hair. He nods below you eagerly, continuing to devour you. You were so close to the edge yourself, so you moaned in praise. “Beg for it.”

You lifted your hips to let him speak, and you’d never heard his voice in such disarray, ever.

“P-please ma’am. Please let me cum. Ple-ase.” He was nearly whimpering, voice strained and teetering on the edge of a full whine.

You move your hips back down, and you’re once again on his mouth. He wastes no time in trying to get you over the edge, and when you’re just about there, you give him permission.

“You can cum, my love.” And just like that, both of you unraveled at the same time. Loud moans were to be heard from your bedroom at the agonizing release of both of you.

You shuffled back down Joel’s body so you were straddling his thighs once more. You looked at his slick-covered face, smirking at the sight.

“You did so good, honey.” You kiss him, tasting your arousal on his lips.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He responds, hands twitching to touch you.

“You can touch me, Joel,” You murmur, kissing him again. His hands immediately go to your waist to hold you steady against him before exploring your body slowly. You moaned softly when his hands reached your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “But I’m not done with you yet, cowboy.”

He looks up at you with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was honestly so proud in a sense that you gained so much confidence being in a dominatrix headspace.

“Permission to speak, ma’am?” He asks politely, smiling smugly up at you. You raise your eyebrow at him and nod, listening intently.

“Ride, cowgirl.”

You laughed, your dom façade already breaking. You lined Joel’s surprisingly hard cock up with your entrance, rubbing the tip against your folds a few times before you sunk down on him completely.

You moan at the sensation, him stretching you to fullness something you’ll always find so fucking hot.

“Feel so good, baby.” You encourage, starting to rut your hips back and forth. It wasn’t long before you found a steady rhythm and tossed Joel’s oversized shirt that engulfed your body to the side so he had a clear view of your beautiful body.

Forgetting the no touching rule, he reached out to massage both of your breasts. You almost moaned at the contact, but quickly took both of his wrists into your hands, holding them above his head. You were careful not to move fast, though, because you knew his shoulders were nearly shot.

“No touching.” You smirk as you bounce on him now, groaning when his cock hit that spongey spot in your cunt that made you see stars.

“Mm, fuck, baby, who’s cock is this?” Your words were sickly sweet, dripping like honey as you gazed down at Joel with a ferocious look in your eye.

“Fuck, yours, ma’am. It’s all yours.” He moaned, loving the way your sweet, delicate pussy took him so well every single fucking time. It’s like you were just made for him, and the sensation was truly like no other.

“That’s right. Mine. Don’t you forget it.” You lean down and kiss his neck with fervor, kitten licking the spot you know drives him crazy just once. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, and you knew he was close again. You clamped down on him, riding him with such determination. You wanted to see his face when he unraveled for you; because of you.

“You’re so fucking handsome, you know that?” You start praising him, returning the sweet words he always tosses your way when you two have sex. “So strong. So sweet and loving. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, honey.” You kiss him lovingly, every dom thought and bone in your body dissipating.

You knew it was only a matter of time before you’d say enough was enough. You liked when Joel was in charge. He fucked you so well, and the aftercare was always so tender and loving. He was so gentle, patient and kind with you. You truly loved him with your whole being.

You felt Joel’s hips stutter, breaking you from your thoughts. “It’s okay, my honey. Let go.” You finally said, and it only took him a few more thrusts of hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you coming undone as well.

You kissed him as you both unraveled, swallowing each other’s moans as your movements came to a halt. You slowly get off of him, pulling him into you as you cradled his head against your chest. You kissed his forehead a few times as you ran your fingers through his graying hair.

“I hope I didn’t push it too far.” You whisper, tracing the outline of his jaw with the tip of your index finger. He looked up at you, completely fucked out and more than satisfied.

“You did amazing, baby. That was hot.” He praised, and suddenly, your shyness returned to you full-force. A crimson blush colored your cheeks, and you hid your face into the top of his curls.

“Yeah, well, I prefer it if you’re just the dom from now on.” Your voice is diffident. Joel laughs, leaning up to kiss you lovingly.

“I think that can be arranged, baby.”

I think I’m gonna start doing a tag list. Lmk if you wanna be tagged for future works of mine! But until then @cool-iguana as promised I’d tag you <;3 ily

#joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller x dom!reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou imagine

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saetoru · 1 year

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Tee imagine being vash’s first kiss :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FIRST — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ vash has never fallen in love—not before you, that is (2.1k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mutual pining, slightly jealous vash (of nicholas), confessions, fluff

☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3

“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.

food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.

“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”

this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.

“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”

“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.

vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.

he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.

“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”

you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”

he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.

“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.

you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.

“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”

“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.

you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.

“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.

it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.

“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.

you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.

“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”

“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.

“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.

“about what?”

“just stuff,” he mumbles.

he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.

he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.

vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.

you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.

no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.

and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.

“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”

friends.

he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.

he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”

“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.

“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.

perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.

“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.

you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.

“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”

“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.

“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”

“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”

he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.

“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.

but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.

“is it embarrassing?”

“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”

“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”

“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”

he blinks.

he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.

and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.

“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.

“of course,” you whisper.

“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”

“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.

“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”

“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”

and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.

“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”

“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.

vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#vash x reader #vash x you #vash fluff #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede fluff #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede x you #trigun stampede fluff

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j0eyj0rdis0n · 7 months

Note

hihi, i really love ur writing and I wonder if u could do a s/o who does cheer for a bf team with Jeff + the proxies

Hi love!! I LOVE LOVE LOVE this idea! Honestly I think the creeps would love it too! I hope you enjoy 🖤

S/O WHOS A CHEERLEADER - CREEPS SCHOOL AU

JEFF THE KILLER:

Ohhhhh you got this man GOING

His ego goes absolutely WILD

Seeing you in that cute little skirt got him distracted

It takes a while for him to get back in the game, and by that time the football coach is pissed.

Makes some star plays just to impress you too

The crowd roars as he makes the winning touchdown. But all he cares about is you as he throws off his helmet and comes sprinting towards you with that crazed smile

He'll tackle you into a hug and give you the most loving kiss you'd ever gotten from him

He'll pretend he never did it afterwards so don't expect him to ever "remember"

TIM/MASKY:

Motivates him tenfold

When he realizes you're cheering his name from across the mat he seems to get ten times stronger

Everyone's already scared to wrestle him but when they see the change in his eyes it makes them want to run screaming

Lets just say the round doesn't last much longer when you start your cheers for him

Walks over to you when everything's said and done and picks you up in his huge arms and spins you around, planting a kiss on your forehead with a big smile

"My good luck charm, that's what you are."

BRIAN/HOODIE:

Gives you that big ol' toothy grin when he sees you cheering from the stands

They don't have cheerleaders for baseball games but it warmed his heart to see you all in uniform cheering for him

Makes sure to show off even though it's not exactly hard for him to do so

When he hits a home run he absolutely adores the way you go wild! Sprinting around the bases and giving you a wave and blowing a kiss as he touches home

As the inning changes and he's put in the role of pitcher he makes sure to pose all nice for you. He gives you a show. You better take damn pictures

Also signs a baseball for you ;]

"TICCI" TOBY:

Oh he gets so shy

I doubt the soccer team knows he has a s/o so seeing someone cheering for him was certainly new

As the game gets going he tries his hardest to focus. He is the goalie after all, most of the game relies on his skill.

He doesn't have to try to impress you with his skill

When he throws himself to the side to block the ball he hears your joyful cheers and he can't help but smile

He just saved the game after all

After they've said their good games, he'll run over to you and give you a sweet kiss. You better bet he makes you wear his jersey to school the next day

"D-didn't expect to see you here! My little ch-cheerleader!"

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 13 days

Text

(Dilf!Deku x Nanny!Reader is what I think is what this is)

Description ~ Single dad #1 pro Deku’s daughter wakes up and starts crying for “mama”

“MAMA!” Izuku shoots out of bed at the sound of his daughter screaming. He sprints down the hallway of his large apartment to his daughter’s room. He turns on the light to find his daughter with tear stained cheeks reaching out for him. He sits on the edge of her bed and wrapped her in his arms. “What was it babygirl?” Izuku asks his 5 year old daughter. “Nightmare, about you and mama.” That caught him off guard, his daughter had never really had a “mother” she was dropped on Izukus doorstep with a paternity test saying she was his. “What do you mean baby?” He gives her a confused smile. “Mama? Where is she. I wanna see her too, where is mama?” Izukus daughter looks up at him with big ol puppy dog eyes that would make anyone certain she was his. “Who are you talking about bubs?” “Mama! She’s around all the time! Don’t pretend daddy.” Looking into her confused eyes and that’s when it clicked, she was talking about her nanny.

“Are you talking about Y/n? She’s not your mama, baby.” The little girl in his arms makes an ‘oh’ sound and cuddles deeper into him, he knows she's just to tired to argue and frankly he is too. Instead of risking another nightmare leaving her in her own bed he picks up his little girl and goes back to his bedroom. Izuku finds himself unable to sleep, instead thinking about you. In the last few months you’re all that’s been taking up his headspace. Thinking about how good you are with his daughter, and he wishes he could tell you but he couldn’t do that. It’s bad enough how much it aches him to be away from his daughter as much as he is but he refuses to put a partner through that. So he keeps his thoughts to himself, but will continue letting his daughter think you are her mother. The next day when you came by before he left he had told you that his daughter was in his room, and that she’d had a nightmare and to keep an eye on her during nap time and if anything changes to keep him updated. The usual stuff- except when he was saying goodbye and he grabbed the back of your head and kissed your forehead before heading out the door. You froze in your spot and started overthinking, of course you found him attractive but it was more than just his physical appearance, you’ve seemingly fallen for him because of the way he acts towards everyone that works for him, the way he is always there to kiss his daughter goodnight even if he has to go right back to work after, its the way he is exactly what people think he is but so much more. Now, switch to the other side of the door Pro hero Deku was panicking, when he got home tonight you would probably tell him you quit, or you’ll give him some kind of “HR paperwork”.

He shouldn’t have done it, he knows that but it felt so natural as if he’d done it every morning, like it was routine. But he hadn’t, it wasn't, he’d never done it, he’s thought of doing it. Thought about what he’d do if he would actually married you and got to do that every day- but that wasn’t your guys’ dynamic, your dynamic was that he’d tell you what was new with his kid then leave, and you’d message him interesting stuff that happened throughout the day, and when he’d get home you’d be watching something on tv and he’d sit beside you and tell what happened that day and then you would politely say goodbye to him, but this? This is too- too domestic for you two. But before he can retract and go back inside to explain he gets a message from work telling him there’s an emergency. So he has no choice but to go about his day, expecting a text from you about anything, so that maybe he’ll stop overthinking and panicking but you don’t.

And back at the apartment you were hanging out with his daughter and there has been so many things you’ve wanted to send him but you didn’t want it to be weird. So you went through your day, overthinking just as much as he did because, what was that this morning? Did he mean to do it? Did he think it was someone else and he mixed up because of how tired he was from his daughter waking up in the middle of the night? Oh god… of course, he probably thought it was someone else. You went about your day trying to put your best fake smile on for the darling little girl and at times you’d forgotten but then it come rushing back justas quickly as it had left. At some point Izuku had called a friend who had the day off to go relieve you of your duties for the day, but that only made your despair and overanalyzing worse. You had spent half the night confused and worried and mind wandering, until eventually you gave in, put on the closest pair of pajama pants you could and drove yourself to his apartment. You knocked quietly a few times and while waiting you were questioning what you were doing here but then he opened the door of his apartment and you knew.

You know what to say and why you’re here, “what was that?” You almost cringe at the question. “What?” Oh no, he’s confused, he doesn’t know what you’re talking about this was a mistake. And you abruptly say that you’re sorry for bothering and turning around but he grabs your wrist turning you to him. “I don’t actually know what it was” “So it was a mistake?” Damn, that hurt. “No, definitely not, I- would you like to come inside to talk? It’s cold out.” You follow behind and sit beside him on his couch facing him, knees close to touching. “Believe me, I, very much, like you, and if I was normal, living a normal life I would ask you out on a date in a heartbeat. But I will not do that to you, and I am sorry for what happened yesterday morning, if you choose to continue working for me then I can arrange that we will not be in the same area at the same times-“ “I’m not fired?” You interrupt him, severely confused.

He then looks back at you mirroring your expression, "w- why would you be fired? I'm the one who did it, if anything i thought you'd have smacked me with HR "sexual harrasment' papers when i got back but you didn't." You cut him off again because this whole misunderstanding was starting to make your head hurt, "Why would you be in trouble? You sent me home early, i thought you were firing me." You place your head in your hands. Izuku wants so badly to rub your back in comfort but is understandably apprehensive of making the situation weirder. You pause with your head in your in your hands. 'How could you have just glossed over what he'd said?' You lift your head to look him in his beautiful emerald eyes, "You, like me?" You tilt a eyebrow at him. His face turns a bright shade of red as he answers, "i- w-well not- no- but-" He becomes frantic with his wording and as your looking at him avoiding your eyes you take a chance. You reach for his face and pull it to your own so your faces are inches apart. You leave space for him to close in case youve read the signals wrong. Waiting for what seems like forever (it was a few seconds), Izuku places his hands at your waist and presses his lips to yours. Both of your movements are slow and intimate as you press together fluidly. Before it goes too far you both pull away breathlessly admiring one another. "Izuku...would you like to go on a date?" You speak softly still doubting what had just happened. Hesitating to answer he looks at you earnestly, "I don't want my schedule to hurt the people i love."

"I know, and I'm probably one of the only people who will actually understand enough for this to last with us. I know your schedule and i know you. I know that if anything happens it isn't your fault." You keep eye contact with him as you speak. "If this doesn't work out i would never hold it against you." He scrutinizes your face for any hesitancy, and when he doesn't find any he answers your question, "How's Sunday?"

#mha deku #izuku midoriya #mha fluff #mha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader

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frudoo · 3 months

Text

Random König Headcanons

Hey y'all! This is my first post on here so I hope it's alright <3

These are all pretty SFW (for now >:)), so I don't think there's really any content warnings??? Idk let me know if I'm wrong.

Likes going to Build-a-Bear. Will definitely make your bear and his bear kiss.

This man can COOK. Oh, you want takeout? Nah. He's already pulling out the ingredients for your favorite dish. Buys the two of you matching aprons.

Talks to animals like they're babies. I also feel like the man just... attracts wild animals like birds and squirrels. Undercover Disney princess??? Perhaps.

Speaking of babies... the man is so good with kids. Laughs all giddily when toddlers climb him like a tree. Wants you to have his babies so bad

Actually has a decent singing voice. Get him drunk enough and he's doing karaoke like a pro. Oh, and if you agree to sing a duet with him??? He's GONE. Goes all out.

Likes to hold pinkies when walking around in public. He likes holding hands, too, but when he's feeling a little more anxious he'll intertwine your pinkies. PDA isn't his strong suit but he HAS to be touching you at all times, and it's like a pinky promise that he'll always be there with you :,)

Draws patterns/words on your back with his fingertips when y'all are laying in bed. Mainly a bunch of pet names, "I love you"s, and hearts. And cartoon penises

This big burly BEAST of a man loves being the little spoon, no matter how impractical it is. Honestly loves any cuddling position though.

Pouts when you're not giving him enough attention. His lips get SO puffy when he's jealous. Talking to one of his friends? He's grumbling German insults to them under his breath. Eventually he'll just scoot closer to you on the couch and rest his legs on top of your lap. BAM, now he's got your attention, even if it's just you telling him that he's crushing you. Big ol' lap dog.

Likes to do your hair!! He'll take pictures of what he's done and show them to you like a hairdresser :,) It could be the worst hairstyle you've ever seen but you're wearing it PROUDLY.

On the rare occasion that you two go out to a restaurant, he REFUSES to tell the waiter if his meal is wrong. Oh, it's shrimp and he's allergic to shellfish? He's telling the waiter he loves it and will just stare at the untouched plate sadly. Also will not let you trade plates with him because what if the waiter sees??? Tries to sink under the table when you finally cave and tell the waiter that the order is wrong. Glares at you the entire time he eats his new correct meal but is secretly so thankful. <3

Is absolute trash at video games. One of the best combat soldiers on the planet, but put a controller in his hands??? He's lucky if he gets three shots in.

Bought an engagement ring two weeks after you two started dating. I mean, he literally fell in love with you immediately upon seeing you for the first time, so are you really surprised??

Is a really good gift wrapper. His hands always start cramping around the holidays because he does most of the wrapping. His love language is 100% physical touch/gift giving btw.

Adding onto the singing thing... I just think he would be a really good musician, specifically a drummer.

NOSE NUZZLES. Like the Brendan Fraser type of kiss where you just rub noses after. He just gives off those romantic vibes <3

Unconventional kisses. Eyelids, the tip of your ear, everywhere you have moles, your calves, ankles... the man is obsessed with you, and he's kissing you wherever he can reach.

ADORES taking baths with you. Candles, rose petals, bath bombs: he does it all. Washes your hair for you. Lots of forehead and temple kisses.

I am unwell. I need him so bad.

Please feel free to reblog if you'd like!! I hope y'all enjoyed my little (very self-indulgent) rambles. :)))

#könig x reader #könig cod #headcanon #fluff #call of duty #könig fluff #cod #könig mw2 #my baby my BABY #need him more than oxygen tbh

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moodywyrm · 10 months

Note

HI I'M NEW IDK HOW TO USE THIS BUT I HAVE SUM TO SAY ABOUT ABBY-

imagine she asks you for a massage after gym and you're all excited n stuff and u sit on her ass bcs she's laying on her stomach while u take care of her back and massage it gently and she can feel the heat from u like as u sit and djejskdjd😩

we're modifying this a little bit because I have farmer! abby on the brain. so instead of the gym, she asks you for a massage after a long day on the farm. just some notes: reader is described as wearing lipstick, owning self care items like body oil, has a vanity, and referred to with traditionally fem words like wife, girl, etc. but, genitalia for the reader is not mentioned. more farm abby for my wife @pinknightsinmymind

Planting seasons starts soon, which means Abby has been plowing the field all day and she's fucking exhausted. Every inch of her body is sore, and she's all but soaked through her wife pleaser, her flannel long forgotten on the porch railing. She's bone tired and, to make things worse, she hasn't seen you in two whole hours.

You've been inside making dinner, cooking up her favorite stew so she had a nice hot meal ready once she was done plowing. It's incredibly sweet, really, and she couldn't ask for a better wife, but she feels like she's gonna wither away if she doesn't see you right now.

By the time she slumps up the farmhouse steps, snatching her dirty flannel and swinging it over her shoulder, she doesn't know how she's still standing. Her thighs are quaking from exhaustion, just barely carrying her through door and into the kitchen. But then she sees you, her lovely wife, finishing up dinner and looking as gorgeous as ever, and it's like the weight of the day is erased, lifted from her shoulders.

You spin around to look at her, having heard her slumping through the house in her big ol' work boots. The grin on your face makes her heart flutter, your lipstick perfect as always and your arms held out for a hug. You're absolutely gorgeous, as beautiful as the day she met you, and Abby's just so glad to be back with you.

"Heya there, darlin'," She drawls as she slumps over to you, melting into your outstretched arms.

You wrap her up in a hug, not caring about how sweaty she is, just wanting, needing, to hold your girl. "Mmm, hi baby, ya done with the field?"

"Mhm, finally done plowing. Gonna do one last check tomorrow and then get to planting, hopefully," She mumbles into your hair, feeling your hands trailing up and down her back. It's good, but not enough. She groans, melting into you and pressing a kiss to your cheek, huffing out a sigh.

"Everything alright there, big girl?"

"Mmm, my back's sore 'n your hands feel real good."

"Aww, maybe, after dinner and after you shower, I could give you a massage? How's that sound?"

Abby hums, squeezing you and kissing your forehead before pulling back and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "Sounds incredible, sugar. What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're Abby Anderson, 's more than enough baby," Your voice is soft, whispered against her lips like a prayer. When you pull away, you giggle at the remnants of lipstick on her lips. With a swipe of your thumb, you wipe it away, giggling at her pout. "Now go sit down, I'll bring you a bowl."

Abby giggles, trailing towards the kitchen table and sitting down, smoothing her hands down her thighs as she sits. She eases into her usual manspread, rough denim pulled taut over her thighs. Your eyes catch on them when you walk over with two bowls of stew, a loaf of freshly baked bread tucked under one arm.

“Mm, thank you darlin’, this looks delicious,” Abby hums, watching as you sit down. She gently takes the bread knife from the center of the table, slicing off some of the loaf and handing it to you before cutting her own piece.

When she leans forward to eat, elbows on the table in a complete lack of dining etiquette (though neither of y’all ever really cared for it), she groans. The tightness in her back is striking with a vengeance, egged on by the promise of relief at the hands of her wife.

"Oh honey," You murmur, frowning at her.

"Mm, 's okay. Just a lil tight," Abby says, giving you a tight smile. She gets through the rest of her meal with minimal movement, having to sit up straight like her dad always said she should. By the time y'all are done, she's dying to get into the shower and wash off all the grime that had settled on her skin.

While she's off showering, you set your plan into motion. Y'all have a habit of leaving out pajamas for each other, whenever you can. Since you're gonna give Abby a massage when she's out, you should pick pajamas that give you easy access, right?

So you leave a pair of soft grey boy shorts on the bathroom counter, and nothing else. All in the name of having full access to her back, of course.

Then you run to grab one of your body oils from your vanity, a rosemary one that would smell delicious with her body wash. You set it out on the bedside table, alongside some water and a hair clip for Abby. And, for good measure, you reapply your lipstick.

You can hear Abby step out of the shower, can hear her scoff and giggle when she sees the 'pajamas' you laid out for her. When she steps out of the bathroom, hair damp and just barely covering her nipples, soft cotton stretched over her ass and hips, she looks delicious.

"Now what's this about? Thought you were offering to give me a massage outta the goodness of your heart, turns out you just wanted me naked, huh?" She chides, walking over to your position on the bed, kneeling and looking all pretty for her.

When she leans into to kiss you, you press one hand to the center of her chest and keep her at bay. "I am gonna give you a massage, now lay down on your tummy, big girl."

"Yes ma'am."

You let her get situated, laying face down on the bed with her arms folded up under her head. You watch the way her back shifts, muscles rippling as she gets comfortable. She's beautiful, a goddess, and you want to spend the rest of your life worshipping her.

Once she's settled in, you straddle the backs of her thighs, eliciting a nervous giggle from her.

"Whatcha doing there, honey?"

She sounds so giddy, you almost feel bad that you're not gonna give her anything right now. "Settle down big girl, just trying to get access to your back."

You swear you can almost hear her pout when she says, "Okay :(."

She hands you the body oil from the bedside table, settling back into position as you uncap the bottle and pour a small amount into your hand. Rubbing it between your palms to warm it up, you then place your hands on Abby's back and start spreading it over her muscles.

You can feel how tense she is, noting which spots are gonna need the most work as you coat her sore muscles in a thin sheen of oil. Everything is so warm and hazy, since you'd turned off the main lights and left only a few dim lamps and some candles on while Abby was showering.

Abby, for her part, is already in heaven. She's always had a thing about feeling your body weight on her, as in she fucking loves it, so the feeling of you sitting on her thighs is already making her head all fuzzy. To add to it, your hands, soft from gentle work – courtesy of Abby, who never lets you do the rough work on the farm that has calloused her own hands – feel so fucking good on her back. Your touch always melts her into a puddle, but when it's combined with the slick slide of oil and a gentle massaging at her sore back? God, she's melting faster than an icecream in the summer sun.

With every pass of your hands over her sore back, she's whimpering and sighing, and you can feel the heat in your lower belly growing warmer and warmer. It wasn't your intention to get this aroused, but when Abby looks so sweet, so submissive, under your touch, how could you not?

You refocus your attentions, working the knots out of her upper and middle back with a firm press of your hands. The groans she lets out every time you hit a tough spot make you shaky, sounding far too close to the noises she makes when you're pressed up against her. It makes you nervous, giddy with excitement at just how much you want her, how much you want to please her. You're so distracted by the thought and image of her, needy under your touch, you barely notice when she starts talking.

"Mmm, that's good baby, I think you got it all," She murmurs, sounding utterly boneless. She's limp under your touch, the drowsiness creeping in.

"I'm not done yet baby, you're also tense," You mumble, slowly dragging your hands down her back, thumbs massaging at her back dimples, "down here."

Abby lets out a soft, "Oh", before whimpering at the feel of you in massaging her hips. Even if she usually doms, the feel of your thumbs in that very specific spot conjures up images of her on her hands and knees, staring at herself in the mirror while you bounce her back onto your cock, the slick noises of her cunt making her flush bright red. It makes her press her face into the mattress, blush creeping higher and higher as your hands slide lower and lower, until your finger tips are trailing at the waist band of her undies.

"Can I take these off?" You ask, leaning down to press a soft kiss between her shoulder blades.

"Mhm, please," Abby begs, her voice sweet and whiny, face still shoved into the mattress. It makes you giggle, even as you hook your fingers into her panties and pull them down, unfairly slow. You're drooling by the time her ass if exposed, but you almost moan when you see the string of slick and the wet patch left on her panties. You drag them all the way off, throwing them in the general direction of the bathroom.

Once they're gone, her gorgeous ass is completely exposed to you, but her pretty cunt is hidden, her thick thighs allowing you only a glimpse of her slick folds. Abby's breathing is heavy, and you can tell she's trying to stay composed even as you drip more oil onto your hands and rub them together.

Abby whimpers when you run your hands up her thighs, cupping under her ass and massaging the fat of it. You slide your thumbs up, spreading her ass apart and making her whine at the feeling of her pussy being spread open. You haven't even really touched her and she's leaking, for fuck sakes, her pussy made a slick lil noise when you spread it apart.

"Aw, baby, you're this needy already?" You chide, massaging her ass and watching her clench around nothing. A little dribble of slit leaks out of it, and you can't stop yourself from letting your thumb wipe it up, popping your thumb into your mouth and moaning at her taste.

"You've been, shit, you've been teasing me this whole time," She whines, wiggling her ass for you. You giggle, catching sight of the lipstick ring left around your thumb and feeling an idea grow in your head.

"Abby, get on all fours if you want me to fix that," You order, leaving one gentle swat on her ass before sliding off her legs, letting her scramble into position.

Everything about her makes your mouth water, from the slick sheen of oil and sweat on her body to the arch of her back, and the way she spreads her thighs just enough to give you a good look at her aching cunt.

"You're such a good girl, Abby, did so good," You murmur, getting behind her and rubbing at her ass, your tone soft and teasing as you slip into a more dominant role. She whines, wiggling even more as you lean forward, pressing a kiss to the swell of her ass.

When you pull back, you nearly moan, your idea having come true. Left on the plush fat of her right asscheek is a perfect lipstick mark, and the rest of her freckled ass and thighs are just begging for more marks. You giggle, pressing more kisses all over her ass and thighs.

Abby's confused, loving the attention but not knowing why you're just kissing her when her pussy is right there, needy for you. She nearly starts crying when you slide off the bed, grabbing something from the vanity and running back. The next time she feels you kiss her ass, it's a little wetter, stickier than before.

"What're you doing back there?" She asks, head a little fuzzy from your kisses.

"Mm, I could show you. Are you okay with me taking a picture of you?" You ask, pressing more kisses down her thighs, framing her pussy in pretty little kisses.

Abby swears she blacks out for a second, the sheer hotness of the question making her dizzy. "Yeah, yeah, of course, go ahead."

You hum, pleased with her answer and the desperation in her voice. Swiping your phone from the edge of the bed and opening up the camera, you point it at Abby. She looks gorgeous, completely needy and covered in lipstick kisses, slick dripping down her thighs and pretty hole aching for you. The hair around her pussy is slicked down, dark with wet, her bush wet and framing her clit. Her clit, large and swollen, is just peeking out of its hood, and she looks absolutely debauched. You take the picture and hand her your phone, waiting for her reaction.

Abby is staring in awe, not entirely convinced that's her. She looks so slutty, and it makes her hot all over. She lets out a little "oh lord" before handing you the phone.

"Mhm, that's all you pretty girl, you look absolutely gorgeous," You murmur, scratching your nails down the side of her thigh. She whines, arching her back even more as she shoves her face into the mattress.

"Uh huh, the prettiest, being so good for me," You whisper, bending down to press a trail of kisses all the way to her cunt. You lick a stripe from her clit to her hole, making Abby whine and scramble for purchase on the plush bedding.

You lap up the slick leaking out of her hole, spreading it over her clit before laving at it with the flat of your tongue.

"Fu-fuck sugar," Abby whines, bucking back into you. You grip at her thighs, trying to hold her in place as you dig in, pressing a kiss to her entrance before wiggling your tongue in. You fuck her with your tongue, listening to her whimpers before pulling back and spreading her pussy apart with your thumbs.

"Hmm, got the prettiest pussy ever," You tell her, watching her squirm under your attention. She tries to shift her thighs closer together, but stops at your disapproving hum.

With one hand, you trail two fingers down her cunt, pressing into her clit before dragging back up and teasing her hole. You want her to beg for it, and beg she does.

"Shit, baby, please, please fuck me," She cries, pressing back into you and trying to push your fingers in. You chuckle, loving how needy she is and not wanting to torture her too much.

"Hmm, good girl," You hum, as you press two fingers into her cunt. Abby moans into the mattress, loving the stretch. When you're in to the hilt, Abby clenches around your digits, a shiver running up her spine.

You lean down, angling your hand so you can both fuck her with you fingers and eat her out. You leave little licks at her clit, starting to fuck your fingers in and out of her, curling them just enough to try and press at her g-spot. When you get the right angle, pushing up against that gushy little spot, Abby wails, pressing back against you and clenching.

You hum against her clit, sucking on it lightly while pressing against her g-spot, feeling her leak around your fingers.

"G'so good baby, hmmm– fuck" She whines, her voice muffled into the comforter.

You can feel her thighs twitching, and decide she's getting too close too fast. Pulling off of her clit, you trail your tongue around her pussy, from the edge of her hole, where she's taking your fingers so well, to the spot right under her clit, teasing her with the almost-stimulation. You keep toying with her, avoiding her clit even as you finger her, driving her insane.

"C'mon baby, please, I wanna cum, please - fuck, 'wanna cum for you," She whines, kicking one leg and bucking back into you.

"Aww, my needy girl, you wanna cum?" You tease, leaning up to curve your body over hers and press a kiss behind her ear.

"Yes, yes please, ma'am, please, I need it," She cries, turning her head to look at you, making your heart skip a beat. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes blown out and her lips plumped up from biting at them. She's beautiful, your angel and your love, and you feel the overwhelming. need to please her.

"You're so good for me Abby, 'll make you cum," You murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before sliding back down. You take one glance at her ass and thighs, still covered in smeared lipstick marks. Pressing one more kiss to her ass, you dive back into her cunt, licking and kissing and sucking at her clit, making out with it as you fucking her even harder.

Abby whines, dropping her head onto the bed and arching her back even more, letting you play with her pussy. You can feel her getting closer, the excess slick, the tremble of her thighs, the clenching of her walls around your fingers. She's almost there, she just needs a little something. And god, you deliver.

You spit on her clit and suck on it, massaging her g-spot with no mercy as you stimulate her sensitive little nub, moaning against her when Abby wails, pussy convulsing around your fingers and her whole body shaking. She's a wreck, pushing back against you and babbling into the bed. Her clit throbs under your tongue, a twitchy mess.

You fuck her through it, feeling her drip around your fingers, leaving a ring of creamy cum for you to lick up. She squeals as you punch at her g-spot, extending her orgasm as she clenches around you, keeping your fingers inside her.

Slowly, you ease your fingers to a stop and pull out, pressing a kiss to her clit before pulling away. Abby lets her breathing even out, feeling as you rubbing her hips, waiting to see what she needs. Abby lets out a blissed out sigh and sits up on her legs, reaching back for you to wrap your arms around her.

You do, hugging her from behind and laying your head on her shoulder, pressing kisses to the muscle. "How're you feeling baby?"

"Hmm, perfect," She hums, tilting her head to kiss your temple, "You're so good to me."

"You're so good to me, Abigail, I love taking care of you," You mumble, meeting her in a soft kiss. It's so gentle, and you can feel her trying to push every ounce of love into this kiss. It's heart achingly sweet, like every moment you have with her.

"Mm, gonna let me take care of you now?" She asks, catching you of guard as she turns around and eases you back onto the bed. "Because I think you're also feeling a lil tense. Strip and hand me the oil."

ahhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#anon #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader smut

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scoutswritingcorner · 27 days

Note

What about an au where Striker works for I.M.P? 🥺

Striker Working for I.M.P

Striker x GN! Reader

A/N: I know you just wanted to do an AU where you wanted just Striker but I am a gay simp for this fucking maniac of a cowboy.

TW:None?

-☠️Either you just joined or are just training with him whilst the others are out? He’s a hard teacher no doubt. He’ll critique every little thing but he means it in a nice way. He doesn’t need you getting hurt or killed on his watch.

-☠️ Will teach you hand to hand combat and how to disarm someone quickly just in case.

-☠️ A huge lonewolf still but much more easier to get along with cause he has a huge soft spot for you and only you, (he has one for the whole gang but don’t point it out)

-☠️ Still wears his cowboy get up but he strikes me as a fellow who also likes to wear sweaters and a demon jacket everywhere he goes. Also blue jeans and his iconic boots with his hat. You’ll never see him hatless unless he’s letting you and only you wear it.

Platonic Route

-☠️ Big Brother energy. He’ll annoy the shit out of you and then act like it wasn’t his fault.

-☠️ Will steal your snacks and then act like he didn’t. Don’t worry he gets you some more.

-☠️ Will fight you over some stupid shit. Like a kill or if you ate some of his food.

-☠️ Very sweet though, someone hitting on you or unwanted attention? He’s behind you and glaring at the person.

-☠️ Partner acting a fool? He’s immediately taking your side. They cheated? Their car is totaled and they have broken legs.

-☠️ HE LOVES TALKING SHIT ABOUT EVERYONE. Just go up to him and start talking, he’s immediately focused on you and what’s going on.

-☠️ Gets Loona in on it too cause he also acts like an older brother figure to her and now it’s turned into you three around her desk spilling some fucking hot ass tea. Maybe about your ex or someone else you all collectively hate.

-☠️ Once again, he hates Stolas but he also acts like a big brother to Octavia and will take you, Loona and Octavia out on the town to just relax or have fun. Don’t worry he’s got his gun and knife if anyone tries shit. He ain’t afraid to get his hands dirty to protect his people.

-☠️ He hates photos of himself. He doesn’t like to be perceived but he will let you three take photos of him but he’s a big ole grump about it.

Romantic Route

-☠️Oh boy, he’s even more protective than before. If you both are on the job and he thinks it’s going to be a tougher kill? He’s taking it and sends you off to go check on the others.

-☠️ That one scene in the D.H.O.R.K.S episode where Blitz and Moxxie were taken? Yeah you were with them and when Striker got you back with the others? He’s feral. He will kill anything that touches a single hair on your head.

You hang your head in shame as you listen to Blitz and Moxxie yell back and forth with one another. How did you allow yourself to get caught? The doors busted open as Millie, Loona and Striker ran over, a crazed look in his eyes. “Oh shit- You okay darling?” He asked untying you from the chair and pulling you close, checking all over you for any injuries. “I’ll kill these bastards if they hurt ya” He snarled out.

-☠️Such a sweetheart. He’s more prone to lazing around the office with you if there’s nothing to do and will occasionally take naps.

-☠️ Out on the town with him? He’s spoiling the fuck out of your ass. Like it’s unreal.

-☠️ Loves going to fairs with you, it’s prime time for him to get you everything and to show off his shooting skills.

-☠️In this AU Bombproof is a motorcycle cause I said so and he takes care of it like its his baby. He also gets you your own helmet and lets you ride with him through the city. Date nights are much more fun when you're speeding through each ring and seeing different sites.

-☠️Loves getting/giving good luck kisses. If you don’t give him one before a mission he thinks he’s gonna fail and it bothers him. Doesn’t matter if it’s a kiss on the lips, cheek or forehead. He wants his good luck kiss.

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss imagine #striker helluva #striker x reader #helluva striker #striker helluva boss

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kiwisbell · 8 months

Text

Whiskey Sour

chapter seven [epilogue]: ancient mariner

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 11k (oops)

a/n: thank you for being here besties. here's a little epilogue/slice-of-life bonus chapter. i love you so much and i hope you've enjoyed this fic. whiskey sour will forever hold a special place in my heart and i had the best time ever writing it xx

chapter 7 [epilogue]: ancient mariner

Loving.

You take Joel to visit your new apartment.

It's small and quaint and so you. Pictures of you, your father, and your friends are tacked to a cork board. Decorative pillows and blankets are strewn about your love seat and plush chairs. Your kitchen is just big enough to fit you, light woods and natural light and your favourite colours. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the north wall give you a good view of the university a few blocks away. You're on the twelfth floor.

“What if there’s a fire?” says Joel, inspecting the locks on your door. They seem sturdy. The walls are a pleasant white, the floor clean. There's no mould or mildew. Everything looks perfectly safe.

“If there's a fire, I’ll take the stairs.”

“If the stairs are on fire?”

You give him a look. “I’ll yell down to the firefighters to set up a mattress on the ground, and hope for the best.”

“And your neighbours?” he says, breezing past your smartass little comment. “They good people?”

“I haven't gotten the chance to introduce myself yet.” You shrug your shoulders, watering a snake plant that hangs down from your curtain rod. “I’ll bring them some cookies next time I bake. I’m sure they're lovely.”

“You can't know that,” he points out.

You hum dismissively, and Joel catches a wicked smile on your face. “No, but if I want to bring a guy home, I don't need to sneak him past any housemates.”

Joel walks right up to you where you stand by the windows and snakes his arm around your waist. “Wanna keep bein’ funny,” he says, “or are you gonna finally let me kiss you again?”

“That depends.” You smile up at him, placing your hands on his chest. “Will you help me put together my dresser?”

Joel grins, tilting your chin up and kissing you softly. You smile against his mouth, winding your arms around his neck. He guides you to the window and presses your back against it, your body curving up against him. “My girl,” he murmurs, his lips at the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Kiss me again and I’ll believe you.”

He does. Decadently.

Hands on your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, teasing your soft skin. His tongue parting your lips, tasting bitter morning coffee and mint. His mouth and yours. The smell of his cologne.

When you pull away, you litter kisses from his nose to his forehead down to his scruffy beard. “Do you want dinner?” you ask him softly.

His eyes light up, and he looks down at you like a hopeful puppy. “You want me to stay?”

You squeeze his strong biceps. “I need to put you to work, and there is no way I’m letting you leave my sight tonight.”

Joel answers by crushing his mouth to yours, feverish, his rough hands exploring the soft skin of your hips beneath the fabric of your sweater. You’re wearing a pair of soft lounge shorts, and he can feel the pretty lace of your panties just under the waistband. Jesus, he's going crazy. You smell like perfume and you feel so good. This is where he belongs.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead to yours. “If I ever fuck up like that again,” he says, “kick me in the balls.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you mean it.” You shake your head at him. “Nobody’s gonna hurt me. Especially not you.” You lace your fingers through his and bring your joined hands to your heart. “You came back to me.”

And it is never enough. But your heart beats strong and steadfast under his palm, and he knows you believe it. “You know I can be a real idiot sometimes,” he says.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers tracing the lines on the back of his hand. Marks of age and scars and sunlight.

“My foot’s in my mouth all the time.”

“Mmm.” You bring his hand to your mouth and press soft kisses to his rough knuckles.

“I’m too old for you.”

Your lips find the pads of his fingers. “You’re just right,” you whisper, playfully nipping at the tip of his index finger. “Everything about you is so right, Joel Miller. Like Goldilocks. But… grey.”

Joel steps forward and presses his body against yours. This time, it’s your hand he takes, putting it to his chest. Your fingers slip greedily under his shirt to find the warm skin that lies beneath. “Feel that?” he says gruffly. “Feel how fuckin’ fast my heart’s beating?”

You bite your lip when you smile. “For me?”

“It’s only ever for you, baby.” His hand is a solid weight at the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “Makin’ me feel like a goddamn kid with a crush on the pretty girl.”

“You could have all the pretty girls you want,” you tell him, your hand dipping to his belly. “You’re so handsome. So strong. And so good to me.”

Goddamn, he likes it when you say things like that. His ego gets a big fucking kick out of it, and his cock certainly hangs on every syllable of your praise. He hasn’t been good to you, not always—not the way you deserve—but he’s here for a reason. He’s here, in your shiny new apartment, to prove that he can be the one you want to put your faith in.

“Don’t want any girl but you.”

“Good.” You’re so close, the shapes in your irises so mesmerising, and he needs to kiss you again. “Because I’m all yours.”

Fuck, if that doesn’t shred the last of his self-control through a pinhole. Joel winds his arm around your waist and walks both of you toward your bedroom, his mouth attacking yours with no more ceremony than a fucking animal in heat. He cannot stop touching you. It’s all he knows. It consumes him, devours him whole. His hands on your body, vaguely discomforted with the layers of clothing between him and your nudity even as his brain goes fuzzy and forgets all sensation except for you.

His mouth is on your throat as you both stagger until your back is against your bedroom wall. “Put me to work, baby,” he says into your skin, kissing his way down your neck. “Let me undress you.”

“So no dinner, then,” you laugh, a little breathless as he sucks a dark spot into the curve of your neck.

“I’ll skip to dessert.”

You giggle when his nose tickles the spot below your ear. “Cornball.”

“Let me,” he pleads, pulling back to look into your eyes. His pupils are wide and they gleam with something close to mischief. You nod your head.

Joel takes his time undressing you. Your sweater goes first, tousling your hair as he brings it up over your head. His lips attach to your collarbones, your sternum, his fingers slipping around your back to the clasp of your bra. He unclips it with one hand and slides the straps down your shoulders. “So beautiful,” he whispers, gripping your hips a bit tighter when he says it, his voice taking on a bit of a growl. “Lie on the bed for me.”

You back toward the bed on shaky legs and sit down on the edge, watching him fit himself between your open legs. “I said lie down, baby. Not sit down.”

You push your tits out, just begging for him to touch. “What if I want you to make me?”

Oh.

Joel’s fingers tease the shape of your hard nipples, your lashes fluttering as he circles the points. His palm presses flat to your sternum and pushes gently, lowering your upper half down to the mattress. Dipping down toward you, he flicks his tongue against your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Your breath trembles out of you, your hand flying to the back of his head and tangling his greying hair.

He hums, his hand slipping between your bodies so he can grab your thigh and wrap it around his hip. He grinds absentmindedly against your thigh, achingly confined in his boxers, while his mouth continues sucking and licking your nipples like he’s a goddamn cat. You taste so good—softness and soap and the tang of perfume that still lingers on your skin—and Joel can only groan, his fingers squeezing your thigh so hard he’ll leave bruises.

“Joel!” It comes out as a helpless gasp, your head falling back into the mattress when you feel his free hand take a greedy handful of your ass. His mouth begins a path from your tits to your belly, lavishing your skin with his tongue as if he’s trying to permanently etch the memory of it into your body. It’s working.

“This fuckin’ perfume,” he groans against your skin, his nostrils flaring. He feels like a crazed animal set free.

��You like it?” tumbles breathlessly from your lips.

“It’s all I think about. Fuckin’ dream about it.” He presses his lips to the spot just above your belly button. “So goddamn sexy. Fuck, baby, I missed you.”

You’ll never, ever buy a different perfume again. His fingers hook in the waistband of your little shorts and the panties underneath, and your hips writhe. “Joel,” you mewl, looking down your body at him, the way he begins to slide them off. “I…”

I missed you, too. I missed you so much that my body ached. I can’t lose you again.

Like he can see the words flooding your mind through the wetness in your eyes, he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “Don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, moving back to give himself just enough room to remove your bottoms and reveal your pretty, wet pussy to him. “Just keep lookin’ at me.”

Wordlessly, you nod. Joel wraps his arms around your thighs, pulls you to the edge of the bed as he kneels at the foot of it, and buries his face in your pussy.

“Oh, shit!” It’s hard to keep your head upright, to keep your eyes fixed to his wide brown irises, when you watch his tongue dart out to lick your little clit. You can feel your cheeks burn when he spreads your folds with his thumbs just to have better access to his meal, slick and wanting before his eyes.

You cover your face with one hand to stifle your blush and your moan, but Joel growls right into your pussy, and you realise he doesn't like that. You drop your hand and fasten it in his hair, your fingers tugging him gently toward you. “Please,” you whimper. “Please, baby…”

The nickname falling from your mouth sends what's left of his blood soaring downward. Joel flattens his tongue against your folds and licks a hot, slow path to your clit. Your sweet sigh spurs him on, his fingers abandoning their grip on your thigh to spread your slick around your entrance. He dips two fingers into your hole and curls them toward him as his lips attach to your clit.

Your hips buck involuntarily with the jolts of white-hot pleasure that have you seeing double. “Feels so good,” you manage to choke out. It's an understatement. It feels like electric jolts to your system, a hundred lethal jabs to your veins.

“Mmm,” is Joel’s reply, the hunger in his eyes engulfing you. His moustache glistens with your wetness and you want to feel embarrassed about how quickly he's reeling you toward the edge of a cliff, but you can't. Not when he's looking up at you like you're the first snowfall in a desert and he's eating you out like you’re the only meal he's had in months. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he meticulously applies pressure to the spongy spot inside you.

You begin to shake but Joel does not relent. He licks and sucks your poor clit until your orgasm is a foregone conclusion and there's no going back. “I… Joel, I can’t— ah, fuck! Gonna… gonna come—!”

Your back arches and your head falls to the mattress, unable to hold itself up any longer. Joel fixes his mouth to your pussy and drinks down everything you give him, soaking his fingers while your thighs clamp around his ears. He wants to die like this, he thinks. He’ll go happily, your body muffling the sounds of the world outside.

Fuck, the way you look when you come. He’s never going to forget it. The scrunch of your brows, the fluttering of your lashes, the arch of your back. The fucking noises. The sweet, broken moans that slip past your lips, unrestrained. Unapologetic. It makes him so fucking proud of himself: you feel free with him, free to take and take. He’ll give you another if you let him. Jesus, he'll give you five more.

He’s already dipping his head again to lap up the rest of your orgasm and start over, but you gently tug him back with a little cry.

Your tits are heaving and he wants to put his mouth back on them. “You’ll kill me if you do that again.”

Joel chuckles, a little winded from his own arousal, pressing kisses from your navel back up to your chest. “I need you alive,” he mumbles, his rough hand caressing your thigh, which he's got wrapped around his hip.

“Please get naked,” you beg, your hands dropping from his shoulders to the hem of his T-shirt. Joel grins, sitting back so you can follow him and tug the shirt over his head, letting it tousle his hair some more. You admire the softness of his belly and the strong, broad shoulders; the arms whose muscles ripple when he reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You must be practically salivating at the sight of your man undressing for you, whipping off his belt like it owes him money, because he gives you that smug look and turns you both around. Lying on his back, he positions you on top of his erection. The sudden jolt to your clit makes you jump. “Warn a girl,” you laugh.

Joel, now naked beneath you, digs his fingers into your hips and guides you along his hard length. You shudder, your thighs closing around his sides. “No fun in that,” he says. “I like seein’ you squirm.”

“Yeah?” You angle your hips to catch the head of his cock at your entrance and begin to sink down on him. He hisses, baring his teeth as he watches your bodies meet. “Not so cocky now, Miller.”

“I don’t know.” He reaches up and squeezes your tits in his big hands. “Still feelin’ pretty cocky. Sexiest woman on the fuckin’ planet is sitting on my dick.”

You give an experimental roll of your hips as he bottoms out, and stars turn to supernovas behind your eyes. You throw your arms forward to keep your balance and dig your fingertips into his chest. “That’s it, baby,” he groans, helping you grind yourself on his cock with his hands on your ass. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. So fuckin’ good.”

You continue to ride him, your thighs beginning to burn as his cock slides deliciously against your g-spot over and over again. “You're so big,” you gasp, your head lolling on your shoulders. “Fuck, I missed you.”

He grunts your name, his hand applying pressure to your lower belly. “You're takin’ it so well for me. My perfect girl.”

You gasp raggedly at the thick, heavy weight of him inside you, his warm hand at your navel, the way his dark eyes ground you in this moment. Here, no one can interrupt. The two of you are locked in orbit, and the blackness between the stars pushes in on you. You lace your fingers through his and rest them next to his head as you lean down and kiss him.

It’s a little sloppy with the movement of your body, but he isn't being greedy. He’s taking everything you want to give him and groaning happily into your mouth, your lips swollen and your chin chafing slightly from the scratch of his beard. “Lemme touch you,” he pleads whenever he finds breath. “Baby, I wanna touch you.”

Okay. Maybe he's being a little greedy. You release his hands and he surges upward, his back pinching again. He doesn't even register the pain. Everything is you. He wraps one arm around your waist to keep you balanced on his lap, his cock shifting inside you and his other hand cradling the back of your neck. You’re grabbing his shoulders for support as you begin to bounce up and down on him, ripping a growl from his throat.

It devolves until you're both animals. Your pussy gushes on him as you ride his cock, the sounds of sex obscene and the smell of your perfume clogging up the pathways in his brain. Your tits jiggle with every motion and Joel, his hand firm on your upper back, takes your nipples between his teeth—alternates between sucking and nipping and tugging. You moan his name, losing the ability to support your own head on your shoulders.

His eyes are glazed over, black with the promise of you, the knowledge of being yours the way you're his. You drop your forehead against his.

“Joel,” you whimper, fucking cock-drunk as he takes your tight cunt. You feel so good that he can't see straight, his fingers wrapping around your hair as your thighs slap against him. “I’m so close.”

“C’mon, baby girl,” he rasps, his nose sliding against your sweat-cooled temple. You cry out, and he nods his head, baring his teeth on your cheek. “I know, baby. Me too. Me too.”

Your thighs burn and your toes curl, your mouth dropping open in a feeble attempt to take in more air as you crumble in his arms. Your tits are squished up against his chest, sensitive and sore from his mouth. You grasp his biceps as you come, sinking all the way down onto his cock and fixing him to you.

“That’s it.” Joel helps you ride out your orgasm, going blind with the way your pussy grips him, pulsing around his length like the beating of a heart. He's lost his fucking mind. He's overcome with the need to keep himself lodged inside your cunt, slick and hot and needy (Christ, you're so needy, mewling and grasping at his body like you'll never have enough). He doesn't lift you off his cock. He won't let you go. He’ll fuck you like this every goddamn day if it means he can hold you this way at the end of it all.

Your lust-filled, bleary eyes drop to his lips, and Joel takes pity on your post-orgasmic haze, kissing you with a fervour you can't quite match. Your lashes are sprinkled with dewy tears. Your smile irradiates the darkening sky. You're the picture of beauty. For a moment, he wishes he were an artist.

“You didn’t come,” you mumble, leaning in for another kiss.

It's true. He's still hard and aching inside you, spilling precum into your pussy, but Joel rubs his hand up and down your back and says, “You nearly blacked out. Had to make sure you didn't keel over on me.”

You grin, contracting your muscles around his cock and watching his jaw tick. “I want you to come,” you whisper into his ear, kissing the spot just below it. “Inside me, please.”

“Jesus,” he huffs, his cock twitching inside you. “Get on your hands and knees.”

You go eagerly, arching your back all pretty for him when you get in position. He smooths his hand over your ass and says, “You know the drill, baby.”

You lift your upper half and curl your fingers around your headboard. Joel hums, satisfied by the bend of your body, and notches himself back inside you. The way your hole swallows him has his head tipping back in ecstasy, holding into your hips like they're two lifelines. “Honey, you gotta stay still,” he groans.

You hum, wiggling your ass back on him and earning a smack to it. “I already came. It’s your turn.”

He leans down and peppers kisses on your shoulder blades, just because he can. “And you're gonna give me another. Hold on tight.”

You do. And he shows no mercy. Joel’s hands keep your sore hips in place as he begins to pound you from behind, your hands firm on your headboard. “Joel!” you squeal, jolting forward on the bed.

The sound of his name passing through your lips makes his teeth clash together. “No runnin’,” he says, wrapping his hand around your hair for leverage. You gasp at the mixture of pleasure and pain as he fucks you deep, one hand detaching from the headboard and blindly reaching backward to grasp for his hip.

Joel takes pity on you, interlocking your fingers together at his side. Your hot, wet walls suck him in and contract relentlessly around him. Every instinct has him punching deeper, harder, intent on pulling another orgasm from you. The little voice at the back of his head screams at him: fuck her hard, make her scream, ruin her for every other man.

Not that he's letting you go. Not ever.

Your legs are beginning to shake, your upper half losing the strength to hold itself up. Luckily, he's got you, holding you by the hair and pulling you up toward his chest to deepen the angle. He bites down on the curve of your neck and tears a moan from your throat. “Oh my God.”

Joel grins into your sweet-smelling skin. “Got any room left in that pretty mouth for my name?” he says darkly. “Hmm? Who’s fuckin’ you?”

Your eyes roll back in your head when he takes a break from pounding you to grind, his length pressing against your g-spot. You can't come again. You can't. Except—he's going to make you. He's always been able to make you.

“Joel,” you whisper, your throat clicking with drool.

You can feel the shape of his mocking pout against your throat, kissing his way back up to your jaw and nipping at it. The scratch of his beard, the strength of his arms, the warmth of your intertwined fingers—you’re spiralling. Crashing. He's being a real asshole now. “Can't hear you,” he says. “I’m old, remember? Right ear doesn’t work so good.”

You want to snip at him just to take him down a few pegs, but he knows your body; and you know, deep in your soul, that you cannot lie to him. “Joel,” you moan, squeezing his hand, “it’s you. It's only you. I’m yours.”

“That’s right, baby.” He brings your joined hands to your front and presses your fingers against your clit. You keen, your body bowing. “Go on. Give me one more.”

You moan. “I… I c—”

“Yeah, you can. I’ll help if it gets too hard.” Smug, arrogant bastard. You rub your clit in fast circles, pinpricks of hot pleasure surging through your body and lifting the hairs on your arms. Joel’s pace inside you doesn’t slow or deepen. He’s steadfast, urging you to your peak so he can seek his own. And when you crash, your blood singing and your nerves needling, his hand moves from your hair to your throat, applying gentle pressure and refusing to let you fall to the mattress. You choke on your cries as you leave divots in your headboard with your fingers, clenching around his cock.

He works you through it, grunting his praises into your ear, your interlocked hands flexing at your clit while your muscles cease functioning. Joel tips off the edge with a series of groans, his voice breaking as he fixes his teeth to your shoulder. With how tightly you squeeze him, you can feel every spurt of hot cum he spills into your cunt, every pulse of his length as his balls empty inside you. Coupled with the stuttering thrusts against your backside, you can tell he’s trying to push as much of himself in as he can, his moans waning to near-whimpers as you help wring every drop from him.

Even then, when he gently lower you to the mattress and leaves kisses down your back, he’s using the head of his cock to collect the cum that’s dripped out of you and spreading it all over your used pussy.

Holy fuck.

Your thighs twitch with every gentle swipe over your clit. “Joel,” you moan brokenly, heaving with your face buried in your pillow.

You know he’s through with indulging himself when he drops onto his back next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. “C’mere.”

You’re already going, nuzzling your face into his lickable neck and nudging your nose against his scruffy jaw. He pulls your thigh up over his hip and caresses the length of it with his rough fingers. You’ve missed being held like this. Fuck, you missed him.

“Wasn’t kiddin’ about your perfume,” he says, the timbre of his voice rattling your ribcage as you inch closer to him. “Can’t keep my goddamn hands off you.”

You laugh. “Maybe it’s time you stopped blaming the perfume, Miller, and start blaming your self-control. Or lack thereof.”

At that, he lands a smack to the side of your thigh. “Don’t wanna control myself if I can have you like this.”

He’s got a point.

He turns his head toward you and brushes your hair away from your face. “You’ve got it good here,” he says softly. “It suits you.”

You bite your lip, warmth seizing your chest. “It’s a nice bed, too, huh?”

He grins. “Real nice.”

Now that he isn’t consumed with getting inside you, Joel can finally look around your bedroom. There are still unopened boxes and furniture parts scattered about the floor, but he’ll help you with that. It’s the walls that draw his attention. Pictures of you and your mom, you and some friends from New York, you with your yoga instructor Jill, both of you twisted into pretzels.

The periodic table on the wall above your desk (which is already piled with books) is what yanks at his heart like it’s tied with a fishing line. He doesn’t really know why. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re really staying.

“I’m gonna put you up on that wall,” you tell him, following his gaze.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t let on how excited it makes him. “With duct tape or nails?”

You hum, taking his jaw between your thumb and forefinger. “I’ll put you in a frame first. Maybe I’ll keep you on my bedside table.”

He leans in and kisses your lips, then your nose. “Don’t wanna sleep holding me?”

You smile against his mouth. “I’ll take the real thing.”

Between classes, you decide to bring Joel lunch from the sub shop on campus. His job site is nearby, since they're working on an addition to a house in the neighbourhood. It’s Tommy Miller you see first, though, with his hard hat on and his bright orange vest tucked into his jeans like he's trying to make it stylish.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Tommy beams at you, squinting in the sunshine with his hand shielding his eyes. “Nice dress.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Nice vest.”

“Your dad’s in the office, but Joel’s fuckin’ around just over there.” He points to the site, where a small cluster of guys in similar dress are securing the foundation of the client's new walls.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“Wait up.” He bends down and picks up a yellow hard hat, securing it on your head. “He’d kick my ass if I didn't make you wear it.”

You pat his shoulder. “Don't work too hard.”

He produces a cigarette from behind his ear and grins. “Don't worry about me.”

When you make it to Joel, he’s on his own, bent over blueprints on a table in the middle of the barebones room, rubbing a hand over his scruffy beard. “Remind me to remind you to get a haircut,” you tease.

He looks up, seeing you in that dress and that bright yellow hard hat, carrying a paper bag filled with sandwiches, and his face breaks into a grin as his heart swells three sizes. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey.” You sidle up next to him and place the bag on top of the blueprints. “I won't stay long, I promise. But you need to eat.”

He swipes his arm across his forehead to wipe the sweat away. “You brought me lunch?”

You unravel the bag and hand him his sub: ham and swiss on white. “Is it up to code?”

His crooked smile makes your heart flutter. “Best one I’ve ever seen.”

“You aren't even looking at it.”

“Don't need to. I’m fuckin’ hungry.”

You smile, tilting your head back so you can kiss him. He pulls away slightly, grimacing. “I’m a mess, baby. I’m sweaty.”

“Are you kidding me?” The sun and labour have left a sheen of sweat all over his tanned skin. His biceps are rippling with every slight movement and you want to sink your teeth into them. His hair is tousled and damp with sweat, curls peeking out from beneath his hat. It's a cruel fate, to be so close to someone so sexy when you know you can't take it anywhere.

Joel tugs you closer by the small of your back. “You're clean. I’m not.”

You raise a challenging brow. “So get me dirty.”

It’s thrilling to watch his pupils dilate, his hand tightening around the fabric of your dress. He ducks his head and kisses you softly, his thumb and forefinger on your chin. You let yourself indulge for as long as you can, your hands slipping beneath his bright vest. Until his coworkers approach, wolf-whistling at the pair of you.

“Miller, you dog!”

“Get a room!”

You hide your face in his chest while Joel takes off his hat just to smack one of his guys in the shoulder with it. “I ain’t payin’ you to sit around, assholes.”

“He payin’ you to date him, sweetheart?” says Chris, white-haired and bushy-bearded. “Blink twice.”

You pat Joel on the chest and give him a mortified look. “That's my cue to leave.”

He still looks like he wants to take on his coworkers in the boxing ring, but he loosens the tension in his jaw and meets your gaze, hiding your faces with his hat so he can kiss you again. He gives you a couple more along your jaw and your forehead, ending at your nose. “Thank you for lunch, baby. See you tonight.”

You frown, a slight panic squeezing your chest at the idea that you've forgotten an important date. There's nothing marked in your calendar. “Tonight?”

But he's smiling, all feathers and cockiness, fitting his hat back on his head. “Takin’ you out to dinner.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ve got a test next block, so I don't have time to stop at home. Pick out my dress for me.”

He lifts his brows at the prospect, his eyes glittering. There's mischief in that rich brown. “Yeah?”

Your fingers, wrapped around his firm bicep, pulse gently. “Yeah.”

“Attack your test, pretty girl.” He gives your hip a squeeze. “I’ll do all the work tonight.”

Your teeth sink briefly into your lower lip. “Now I’m hungry.”

“Fuck physics! Fuck everything about it and the asshole who invented it!”

Joel can hear your voice carry before you've even opened the front door. The sound of your keys clanking around the bowl echoes in his ears like the ring of a bell. He hurries down the stairs, still pulling a shirt over his head, and meets you in the living room.

Fuck. You’re wound up. Your shoulders are pulled into your body and your chest heaves with every breath, your pretty face drawn in a miserable frown. “Hi,” you bite out, trying to reel in your anger. He doesn't deserve it. “How was work?”

Joel tries a smile. “I don’t think one person invented physics.”

You groan, burying your face in his chest. “Do not question me right now, Joel Miller.”

He does his best to quell his own amusement in favour of empathy. You're not particularly frightening when you're angry, but it's not your job to be. He's the frightening one in this relationship. “I’m sorry, baby. Test not go well?”

“I don't get it,” you croak. “I studied for days. Actual days.”

“I know you did.” He can live with eating dinner by himself, but he doesn’t like knowing you often forget to eat altogether when you're not with him.

“I’m at the library so often that the other people there know not to sit in my usual spot.” You put your head in your hands. “I made flash cards. I quizzed myself. I forced all of my friends to quiz me. I was halfway to forcing you to quiz me!”

“Baby, you know I would've quizzed you a hundred times.”

“Apparently, it wouldn't have helped,” you snap. “I failed. I don’t fail.”

He says your name, then repeats it when you don't respond. “You're spiralling.”

You shut your eyes, digging the heels of your palms into your lids and taking three deep breaths. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don't gotta be sorry. You can yell at me all you want.”

“Never at you. Just… to you.” You pull back and wind your arms around his neck, scratching your nails at the back of his neck. “I didn't mean to get mad.”

“You’re like a hissing kitten when you get mad. I ain’t hurt.” He caresses your arms and ignores your harmless glare. “Wanna tell me what went wrong?”

You let out a long sigh through your nose. “I know what I screwed up on. I’m just frustrated with myself. I’m a good student, and this felt like a total waste.”

“It ain't a waste.” Joel’s pout means he's not happy with how you view yourself; it's different from his concentrated pout and his mocking pout. “You're the smartest person I know.”

You can't help the smile that splits your face. He's a man of few words most days, and he always knows exactly which ones to use. You know you're smart. It doesn't mean it doesn't feel really fucking nice to hear it with so much conviction. “Yeah?”

“Hmm. Smartest.” His lips brush your forehead, your nerves lighting up with sensation. “Prettiest.” He nudges his nose against yours. “Sweetest.” You let him part your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. You let him distract you. And it's good to let go.

There will be other tests. There will be more chances. There's only one Joel.

He smells like fresh air, sawdust, and the cologne he always wears. You understand why he's obsessed with your perfume. This fucking cologne is certifiable in its ability to make you melt against him.

He tastes like mint. Joel’s hands are on your back, one palm digging into the space between your shoulder blades and the other into your lower back. You both stumble a bit when he gets eager, catching yourselves with a hand out on the sofa. He pulls away, his pupils blown wide, his chest expanding and depressing with each rapid breath.

“C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you upstairs.

“What are you—”

“Helpin’ you de-stress.”

“From the looks of the situation in your jeans, you might be the one who needs de-stressing.”

Joel huffs, turning into the bathroom. “This ain't about me, baby. Take off your dress.”

You raise your brows but unzip the dress and step out of it, leaving it in a pool on the floor. Joel turns on the hot water in the shower and appraises your body at the same time you admire his, strong and sturdy and sexy. His erection visibly strains his pants before he gives himself some relief, shedding all of his clothes, too. His cock taps his stomach, making you rub your thighs together as the thought of having it inside you—always a good relaxant.

“C’mere.” You put your hand in his and step into the shower, drenching yourself in the scalding water. You can feel the steam melt your bones, easing the knots in your shoulder from working yourself up onto a ledge. Joel steps in behind you, pressing his mouth to your shoulder.

You sigh, lacing your fingers through his, where they rest against your hips. “Mmm. This is nice.”

You can feel his dick sit heavily against the swell of your ass, but he isn't paying attention to his own needs. He's focusing all of his energy on you: kissing your shoulders, caressing your waist and your belly, sinking his teeth into the crook of your neck like he's a vampire. He’ll gently soothe the marks with his lips when he's done, leaving his claim all over you and fizzling the tightness in your muscles with every attentive touch. All while the water beats at your breasts, trickles down between your thighs, and warms your body.

Joel detaches the shower head from its mount on the wall, tipping your head backward so he can lean down and slant his mouth over yours. “Keep holdin’ onto me,” he says, guiding the spray of water over your chest, slowly making a path down your sternum.

You nod, sinking into his deep brown eyes as the jet meets your thighs, burrowing deeper until—

“Joel,” you gasp, choking on your own breath. He’s guided the shower head over your clit, the pleasure scalding and sudden. You grasp his wrist, writhing against the cold metal while hot bursts of water consistently meet your bundle of nerves.

He tuts like you're doing something wrong, frowning against your cheek. “No moving,” he says. The order resonates through your chest and wriggles into your brain. “Does it feel good?”

You moan when he pinches and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Feels so good.”

He takes your earlobe between his teeth. “Relax. You're still tense.”

You sigh, squirming under the heavy spray of water against your sensitive clit. Joel keeps his nose buried in you, inhaling your scent, indulging in every way he can. Your wet hair is plastered to your skin, your buttery eyes meeting his under dew-slick lashes. “Joel,” you moan, your stomach tightening as you try to find a grip on the shower wall. “Please…”

“What do you need, baby?” He kisses your jaw, angling the shower head upward so it sprays harder against your clit. Your eyes roll back into your head, your hips bucking against the metal and your hand blindly grasping. It finds his arm, wrapped around your waist from behind. He lets you dig your nails into his tanned skin while your composure dwindles.

“Just like that,” you cry out, the pleasure rolling over your body in catastrophic waves. The pressure is so intense that you have to blink away black spots, Joel’s lips on your neck pulling you back down to the ground.

“I got you, baby girl. I’m not gonna let you fall.” His voice is the rumble of thunder, and your orgasm crackles through you like lightning. “Let go. C’mon, baby.”

Your moans turn hoarse and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as you topple over the edge. Joel keeps his hand wrapped around your waist like a seat belt, holding you firm against his chest.

The spray of water lights up a thousand nerve endings and turns you into liquid fire. He feeds praise into your ears and lets you ride the shower head until your body settles, shaking but satiated. He secures it back into the holder and turns you in his grasp, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

“Mmm, that was nice,” you say lamely, still a little weak on your feet. Joel hums in kind, going right back in for another kiss, his lips plush and warm against yours. You wrap your arms around him and press your palms against his strong back as the spray covers you both. His dick is hard and leaking against your belly, but he isn't making a move. He's just kissing you, like it's all the satisfaction he needs.

“Have I told you today— mmmph —how much I like you?”

He pulls away, his eyes glittering with a boyish joy. “Not today.”

“Well.” You reach between your bodies and wrap your fingers around the base of him, squeezing softly. His groan stutters, his forehead falling to yours. “I like you. A lot.”

“Fuck, baby.” Joel grasps your wrist. “This ain't about me,” he says again. You know he's only trying to convince himself.

“What if this is something I want?” you say with a wicked smile, nipping the tip of his nose.

The hollow of his throat caves with a shuddering breath. “I’m a grown man who can—fuckin’ Christ—take care of himself.”

“Yeah?” You pout, gently stroking him until your hand is wrapped around the head. His cock twitches in your grasp. “But it's so much more fun when your girl does it for you. Isn't it?”

He's losing control; you can see it in his eyes. “Wash up,” he bites out. “And when you get out, you’ll bend over the counter.”

You bite your lip, arousal clambering back up your spine. “And what will you do to me?”

Joel grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Whatever I goddamn want.”

You've never finished showering so fast.

When your birthday comes, it isn’t the warm press of his body next to you that drags you from your peaceful sleep. It’s the sound of Joel’s fire alarm blaring in your ears. And he’s not in bed.

You don’t even have time to blink yourself awake, stumbling out of the bed still half-tangled in the sheets and hopping haphazardly into his shirt and a pair of boxers. You can’t find your own clothes; he was adamant in them being as far away from your body as possible once he drove you back from the club last night. The alarm screeches as you bolt down the stairs, rounding the corner in your frantic search for your boyfriend—and a fire.

It’s when you skid to a halt in the kitchen that you finally find him, standing in front of what is definitely not a fire. At least the alarm has stopped beeping.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Joel turns to you, holding a plate of black squares. Smoke still curls out from the toaster. “Did I wake you up?” he asks, as if he isn’t balancing the incriminating evidence in his hands.

“No, honey, the smoke alarm woke me up,” you say, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Are you okay?”

There’s a towel slung over his shoulder, but it doesn’t look to be doing much good. He rushes to you and hands you a steaming cup of coffee. “Did this right at least,” he grumbles. “Tried to cook you breakfast. Fuckin’ burned the toast.”

Despite the abrupt wake-up call of the fire alarm, you’re overcome with a dizzying wave of affection. His brown eyes peer down at you like he’s a puppy awaiting a treat, and his greying hair is deliciously tousled. He wanted to make you breakfast: Joel Miller, the man who eats only to survive. It’s hard not to love him. As if you’ve ever bothered to resist.

“White bread is bad for you, anyways,” you say, bringing him down to you with a hand at the nape of his neck and kissing him tenderly. “Thank you, Joel.”

A low rumble vibrates in his chest as he blindly sets the plate of burnt toast on the table so he can wrap his arms around your back. “Happy birthday, baby,” he says, kissing his way from your lips to your jaw, unconcerned with any morning breath you may have.

You pull away and grin up at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “Is there hope for the eggs?”

“If you don't distract me,” he says, caressing your arms.

“Mmm. Sounds boring.” You press your chest to his and ghost your lips over his neck. Your mouth on him earns a soft groan, but it also earns a slap to your ass.

“I’m tryin’ to be good to you,” he says, cupping your face in his hands. “Don't make it hard.”

“But I love making you hard.”

“You're funny, baby.” Joel splays his fingers over the small of your back. “Sit down and relax.”

“And let you burn down your kitchen?” You click your tongue, giving his ass a pinch for good measure. “How about we work on breakfast together?”

Joel pouts. “It’s your—”

“My birthday is going to be amazing, because I’m with you.” You lace your fingers together. “I can get back in bed when it's done, and you can bring it to me. How's that sound?”

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head. “It sounds good.”

He brings the poached eggs on toast to you on a tray, complete with a brand-new cup of coffee. Joel’s not much of a breakfast person, so he sits next to you as you balance the tray on your lap, drench your eggs in sriracha, and dig in. The problem is trying not to get crumbs on his sheets or topple the tray onto the bed.

Joel doesn't seem to mind. He idly rubs your back below the hem of his sweatshirt, sipping his own coffee every now and then. The sun shines golden through the window in his bedroom, illuminating your glowing skin and the light in your eyes. He’s captivated by the beauty that radiates from you. He can't keep a houseplant alive, so he has none, but he's convinced your smile could revive them. It's added years to his own life.

“You’ve got work today,” you remind him, setting the tray on the bedside table and facing him with your legs crossed.

“I called in sick.”

Your brows shoot up. “Joel.”

His hand shifts to stroke your thigh, giving reassuring squeezes. “Baby, I’m not spending your birthday at a job site. Tommy can handle it while I’m gone.”

“And nobody on the site knows that it’s your girlfriend’s birthday?”

“It's bad enough hearin’ Tommy flirt with you every goddamn chance he gets,” he says, lifting your legs up onto his lap. “Don't wanna hear it from the guys, too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up onto his lap. “If you want me to wear a shirt that says your name on it, just say so.”

His thumb traces one of your lower vertebrae. “That an option?”

“Tommy doesn't know boundaries when it comes to teasing his brother.” Your finger twirls a lock of his grey hair. “The others know better than to piss you off.”

He grins, nudging his nose against yours. “Which means they won't question me when I tell ‘em I’m sick.”

“You win this round.” Your lips meet his in a slow, sweet kiss. His hand cradles your jaw while the other presses at your back, guiding you closer. You taste like coffee and toothpaste and you smell like his body wash, and it's enough to send blood surging downward. He groans faintly into your mouth and pulls back.

“Hey,” you protest. “It’s my birthday. I can kiss you as much as I want.”

“And if you do, I won’t be able to think straight long enough to give you your present.” To punctuate his point, he grinds up against you, letting you feel the hardness in his jeans against your thigh.

You shift so you're straddling his hips. “Thinking straight is overrated. Come back here.”

Joel hesitates, his lips parted, and your heart stops with the implication. “What did you do?” you demand.

“Mike may have called me,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back, “and we have to be at your place in an hour. Consider this your warning for your surprise party.”

You gape at him. “Joel!”

He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You’re annoyed with how easily it loosens the tense muscles in your shoulders. “Baby, he wanted to surprise you, and I know you're too much of a—”

“If you say control freak, I’m breaking up with you.”

Joel places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “Be honest with me. Would you have wanted a surprise?”

You grit your teeth because no, of course not. And he knows it. You would have happily let the surprise go without warning, just to please your dad. But Joel’s got his warm, work-worn hands on your body and it melts all your neurotic energy away. “You're lucky I like you so damn much.”

“Yeah?” His face gets a bit closer to you, seeking your mouth, as his hands migrate to your waist.

You bite your bottom lip to smother your smile. “Yeah.”

Joel hums, inching his boxer shorts up your thighs. “Tell me all about it, baby.”

“It’s my birthday,” you tease, guiding his hands to your tits. He palms them greedily over the sweatshirt. “If you want it so bad… lick it out of me.”

Joel’s eyes turn coal-black. “What did I say about distractions?” His voice is the grate of boots along concrete.

“We have time,” you purr. “Unless you don't think you can make me come before the hour is up.”

“How did I get so goddamn lucky,” he grunts, sliding his hands under your sweatshirt and shucking it up over your head. “You're a fuckin’ dream.”

You shriek with laughter when he rolls you over, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your sternum and flicking his tongue over your perky nipples. He replaces it with his hands when his mouth migrates down your belly until he’s kissing all over your stomach, dragging his boxers off your legs.

“Mmm.” You grin, your eyes fluttering shut as you rake your fingers through his hair. “I just decided—I don't need a present. This is all I want.”

Joel huffs into your skin. “Good thing it ain't anything special.”

“It’s from you. It is special.”

Looking up and resting his chin on your belly, Joel squeezes your hips. His eyes are gooey, warm, soft enough to roll around your palms like velvet. He's never been one for tooth-aching declarations. He’s good at telling you the truth. He's good at reminding you that not everything requires a panicked response. He's good at grounding you in the world with a single look. And it’s why he doubles his efforts to make you feel good, sinking down your body and burying his face in your pussy.

You both arrive at your apartment with minutes to spare. Thankfully, your dad and Joel collaborated on dinner during their illicit phone call and decided to order from your favourite shawarma place in town. Joel takes the liberty of hanging a colourful streamer that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY. There was no time to pick up a cake on the way, given Joel spent forty minutes between your legs this morning, so you decide to make one.

It gives him the opportunity to show his first gift to you: a box stuffed with new measuring cups, spoons, cupcake wrappers, cookie cutters (shaped like hearts, stars (for Texas, he says), and beakers), and, at the very bottom—

“My mom’s old recipe book,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and looking sheepish.

You gape at him, a painful needling behind your nose as tears well up. “Joel,” you say weakly. “I can't accept this.”

“I never used it. I can't cook for shit, and she never trusted Tommy with it.” Joel tucks your hair behind your ear. “I know for a fact she would love you. She'd want you to have it.”

You sniffle, your fingers tracing the edge of the photograph on the inside cover: a teenage Joel and his mom in his childhood kitchen. She’s grinning, pinching his cheeks between her thumb and fingers, while he tries to smile. “She was beautiful,” you say. It’s all you can manage.

“She was.” Joel smiles down at the picture. “Had this sixth sense for when we were about to get into trouble. Always knew exactly what to say, what to do.”

“So did my mom,” you tell him. “I was a good kid, but I was always high-strung. A little lonely. She was my best friend; always knew when I needed someone to talk to.”

“Sounds like they'd like each other,” he says, his hand idly rubbing your back.

You turn the page to find more images, blinking away your fond tears. “Yeah. I think they would.”

He indicates an image of Tommy, who must have been ten at the time, and a group of his friends. “Back in our day, we had to go to our friends’ houses if we wanted to go out and start shit.”

“You’re ageing yourself, Miller,” you say teasingly, wrapping your arm around his and guiding his face to yours. Before you kiss him, you meet his gaze and brush his hair back from his face. “Thank you. This is beyond thoughtful, and I love it.”

His expression softens into that look he only reserves for you. It’s serene and heavy-lidded, his smile a bit crooked. It’s one of the few times you see him utterly relaxed. Naked. “Happy birthday,” he says softly. His nose brushes yours and your lips meet.

You're wearing a ratty orange-and-white University of Austin T-shirt and a pair of jeans that aren't at all sexy, but he still touches you like you're the most radiant creature on the planet. Like you're a goddess.

His tongue parts your lips and slides along yours, your body bowing against his as you wind your arms around his neck. Your back bumps the counter while Joel crowds you, inadvertently knocking the mixing bowl to the floor in his overzealous attempts to get his hands on your ass. “Shit,” he says, pulling away. “Sorry.”

At the same time, your buzzer sounds. “Shit,” you parrot. “That’s Dad.”

You watch his eyes sharpen through the haze and the heaving of his chest flatten to a typical rate, although his hair is still admirably tousled. You imagine you don't look much more put-together.

When you at last let him in, he tackles you with a hug. “Surprise!”

“Dad!” you squeal through your laughter.

“Hey, hon,” he says, lifting you and twirling you around in the doorway. He’s holding a gift bag that bumps against your hip. “Happy birthday.”

“I’m so glad you could make it.” You usher him inside, shutting the door behind you. “Joel’s in the kitchen.”

He grimaces. “And that’s a good idea because…?”

“He’s not touching anything. I’m making a cake.” He sets the gift bag on your coffee table and joins Joel in the kitchen.

“Hey, asshole. You've already made a mess in here.”

The bowl has been salvaged from the floor, but the measuring cups and the cookie cutters are strewn about the countertop. Joel pulls Mike into a brief hug and slaps his back as a way of greeting. “That would be your daughter’s mess.”

“My daughter doesn't know what the word mess means.”

“He’s got a point.” You begin to collect Joel’s gift back into the box and tuck it out of the way. You lie his mother's book on top, smoothing over the cover with your palm. “Both of you can leave the kitchen. Pretty please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Joel, his hand brushing across your back and his lips pressing against your temple as he exits the kitchen.

Your dad sits on the stool on the other side of the pass-through window. “You feel old yet?”

“No older than you, Dad.”

“Smartass.”

Joel sidles up to the pass-through as you're blending your wet ingredients together. “Hey, baby. Turn around.”

When you do, a bright flash obstructs your vision. Joel’s holding your Polaroid camera, plucking out the picture and grinning down at it. “If you're gonna take a picture of me, you should be in it,” you say.

“I ain't as pretty as you.”

It’s a good candid. You, slightly frazzled, with a bowl and electric beater in your arms. Flushed and beautiful. He tucks it inside his back pocket.

“I beg to differ.”

Mike slaps him on the back. “You want a beer?”

“Nah, I drove.” Joel gives you a look. “Someone went out on a pre-birthday bender last night.”

You roll your eyes. “It was a Friday night. Didn't even mix my liquors.”

Mike lifts a brow. “You need a babysitter when you go out?”

“Don't be condescending. I had a babysitter. Leigh.”

Joel snaps another picture, this time of you and Mike, mid-mock-argument. “It's like watchin’ two mice in a screaming match.”

Mike plucks the camera out of his hands and takes a picture of Joel instead. “Look at that. Still old as shit.”

Joel slaps him square in the chest and goes for a headlock, but Mike evades him. You reach through the window and snatch the picture out of your dad’s hand. In it, Joel’s looking at you, a crooked grin on his face. His eyes are warm and the silver in his hair illuminated by the fuzzy glow of the Polaroid. He looks happy.

“This is going on the wall.”

“See, Mike?” Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. His thumb idly caresses your hip bone. “I get the wall.”

“Miller, if you don’t stop feeling up my daughter right in front of me—”

You pin him with a glare. “Dad.”

“Just because I’m not actively knockin’ his lights out doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I’m still your father.”

Joel just kisses your temple and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to bother?”

You decide not to point out that technically, he’s the one bothering his girlfriend. At least he deigns to help you scoop the batter into the cake pans. Later, when the cake is cooling on the table and your dad’s girlfriend Melissa arrives, music plays idly on your Victrola (Joel’s second gift to you) while the four of you lounge around your apartment. Your dad and Melissa occupy two plush green chairs, having shifted them closer to one another to hold hands. You’re on the sofa, surrounded by gift bags and Joel, whose lap you’ve taken residence on. He drums his fingers along each of your ribs as you delve into the gift bag from your father.

A delicate, beautiful necklace with your birth month’s gemstone embedded in the pendant (Melissa helped pick it out, he confesses). A bar cart he made himself. And a card with a neatly-written message inside:

There's a lot I could write here, but I want to keep it short and sweet, since we’d both rather be eating cake. I’ve loved you your whole life, but it was the first phone call that taught me how much of an idiot I really was. It’s easy to love someone like you. You're sweet, and you're smart, and you love so strongly. It’s a crazy feeling to be your dad. Kind of like looking right at the sun.

To all the years we’ll make up for. Let’s start with this one. I love you, kiddo.

—Dad

Melissa surprises you with a present she got herself: a culinary home garden kit, sprouting with the beginnings of basil, parsley, and cilantro. It doubles as a housewarming gift, she says with a tinge of pink on her cheeks. You have great light in here. And they smell great.

From Joel, his penultimate present: a French press machine.

You're unashamed of the happy tears you cry over their thoughtfulness. The card goes on your refrigerator; the herbs sit happily on the windowsill; your French press is tucked next to the bag of grounds Joel keeps in your place for when he drinks the light roasts you hate; the bar cart is filled with all the liquor Sonya gifted you; and Joel helps clasp the necklace around your throat, settling the pendant in its hollow while he litters kisses all over your shoulders and back.

That night, on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap, you and Joel sit face-to-face even though the darkness turns his features into a grainy half-image, you let out a long, happy sigh.

“Best birthday ever.”

“I don't know,” he says, his voice low and raspy, “mine was pretty damn good.”

“Mmm. But this time, you can fuck me.” You grin when his grip on your waist tightens where he's been skating his fingers up and down your curves.

“Yeah, I can.” Joel grins, ducking his head to kiss you. “Ain't over yet, baby. Gotta get into somethin’ pretty so I can take you out.”

His final present.

“This isn't pretty?” You lift up your flour-coated shirt to expose your tits.

Joel’s eyes hone in on them like they're beacons in the dark. He tugs you closer until he can situate you on his lap and take a nipple into his mouth. You gasp, your chest pushing out, giggling when he leaves a few teasing bites. “Okay,” you say breathlessly, “I learned my lesson.”

“Mmm-mmm,” he grumbles, blindly tearing your shirt off your head. His tongue circles each nipple and wets them generously, taking his sweet time with your body. His slow, deliberate pace has you writhing on his lap.

“Sam bought me the black dress I’ve been eyeing forever,” you tell him, trying to distract yourself from the onslaught of pleasing jolts to your core. “It’s a good option for a dinner.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, still lapping at your right nipple like he's a fucking cat.

“Assuming, of course, you're taking me somewhere nice. Are you?”

Joel opens his eyes and pins you with a stern look. Let me take control, he'd say, if his mouth wasn't full.

“I just”—you're cut off with a strained moan when he bites down again, a warning to stop worrying so much—“ah, fuck, forgot what I was about to say.”

Chuckling, he litters kisses up your sternum and nuzzles his face in the juncture of your neck and jaw. “Wear the black,” he says, inhaling your dark, sexy scent. “Can you be ready for eight?”

“Can you?” You stroke his hair away from his face as he rests comfortably against you. “This hair takes a long time to tame.”

“I’ll be ready.” He kisses your jaw and you feel his lashes tickle you as he closes his eyes and groans. “Just gonna have to jerk off first.”

You roll your eyes and pull away, giving him an affectionate smile before you disappear into your bedroom to change.

Joel showers before you so he can take care of his erection. You shimmy into the long, elegant dress, paint your lips, and meet him in the doorway to ask his help with your strappy heels.

As he slips the second shoe onto your foot, you tell him you love him.

For a moment, eyes meet in the dim light. The next, he's grinning, and telling you the exact same thing as he closes the straps around your ankles.

“Ow. Goddammit.”

“You gotta stretch out your back, honey.”

“This shit hurts. It ain't my fault.”

“Your position is all wrong.”

“Well, get over here and help me, then.”

You sigh, dropping from Warrior I so you can shuffle over to Joel. He’s trying, and you really love him for it, but it's no wonder he's in pain. You softly tut, placing a hand on his belly. “Picture your bellybutton going in toward your spine. It’ll take the pressure off. And don’t twist your torso to the side. You have to keep facing forward.”

“Jesus,” grumbles Joel, trying to fix his posture. “Too many rules. I thought you just made it all up.”

“Everything is made up. But this”—you gently press down and help align his spine properly—“will help. Your back will thank you.”

Joel huffs, refusing to admit that he feels the pressure on his lower back alleviate once you fix him up. “I deserve thanks for doin’ this shit with you.”

You grin, shifting around to the front of him so you can unbutton a couple buttons at the bottom of his flannel shirt, leaning in to leave a flurry of kisses over his soft belly. “And what kind of thanks are you looking for, Mr. Miller?”

Joel looks down his body at you. You're so cute, smiling up at him like you aren't inches away from his dick. “I can think of a few things.”

“You keep on thinking,” you tell him, “and we’ll get into the next position.”

He groans. “Can you at least do it naked? Jesus.”

“If you're good.” You button up his shirt again and move back to your yoga mat. “Ready?”

“You're a real fuckin’ tease, baby.”

“Tell me all about it, Joel.” You roll your eyes fondly, shifting onto your ass. “Follow my lead.”

Joel Miller is not flexible. He's remarkably capable of other feats, and he's never let this drawback affect him when it comes to your sex life, since he's usually twisting you into a pretzel. Still, you know this will be good for him. If you can get him to stop grumbling about it for a minute or two.

You press the soles of your feet together in front of you and straighten your back. “Just like this,” you say, watching him copy you. His eyes, however, are fixed on the space between your thighs.

You’re smart enough to understand when you need to take your lumps.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want me to get naked?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe you'll try again another day. You’ve got all the time in the world.

THE END.

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