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joelsdagger · 22 days ago

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that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night.

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again.

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?”

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad.

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you.

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence.

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend.

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover.

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard.

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip.

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it.

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it.

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice.

You need something new, something fresh, babe.

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person.

Trust me, it’ll be good for you.

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind.

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months.

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes.

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome.

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember.

Fuck.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.

And oh.

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new.

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring.

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else.

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires.

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.”

Confusion floods his features.

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips.

“She cheated on you,” you retort.

“How did–”

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.”

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip.

“Hey, you raised him,” you joke.

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

You look at him pointedly.

“Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little.

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.”

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch.

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.”

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?”

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify.

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering.

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks.

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?”

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them.

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him.

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again.

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar.

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease.

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp.

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom.

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning.

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate.

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined.

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.”

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?”

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words.

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear.

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so.

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him.

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness.

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out.

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk.

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?”

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror.

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be.

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn.

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it.

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats.

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites.

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard.

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him.

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic.

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh.

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will.

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does.

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot.

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?”

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly.

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’ – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard.

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.”

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought.

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock.

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.”

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?”

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper.

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release.

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you.

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him.

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you.

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you.

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls.

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip.

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin.

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror.

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands.

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock.

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you.

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.”

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy.

And then it hits you.

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with?

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one.

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly.

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters.

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya.

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth.

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to.

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth.

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more.

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.”

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time.

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give.

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks.

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you.

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.”

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out.

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t.

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you.

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting.

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun.

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number.

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo.

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine.

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong.

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home.

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel.

He’s already watching you.

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid.

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash.

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

#wa-fucking-zoo bitch #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #tw daddy kink #tw dubcon #noelle's workshop

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papanowo · 6 months ago

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more merbones stuff because i'm insane about him lol.

so i'm thinking he was caught up in some kinda storm that banged him up real bad and swept him out to- you guessed it! moss landing california. i'm also setting this au sometime around 50-100 years after first contact so spock's still a vulcan, and he's like a marine biologist and whatnot (i mean if you came from a desert planet you'd be pretty fascinated with oceans too)

anyways anyways jim (fisherman) finds this guy all washed up on the beach and he's like uhmm thats a fucked up looking fish. so he calls up this marine biologist guy he's kinda sweet on all like hey spock you might wanna come down here. and he does. and then he flips his shit all vulcan-like. and thats all i have figured out so far <3

PLUS heres the semi-original concept art for this guy, the actual concept art is packed up in a box somewhere in storage cus im moving soon whoopsies. ill see if i can find that sketchbook sometime this month but erm. yeah.

#my art #star trek #star trek tos #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #jim kirk #james t kirk #spock #mcspirk #mermay #merbones

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pedgito · 11 months ago

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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately.

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home.

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily.

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be.

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming.

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily.

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so.

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl.

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

You shouldn’t even consider it.

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much.

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed.

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice.

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more.

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch.

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing.

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you.

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise.

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly.

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal.

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way.

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be.

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying.

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care.

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck.

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them.

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face.

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in.

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed.

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted.

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings.

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks.

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months.

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel.

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #bfd!joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #my writing

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bunnys-kisses · 9 days ago

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what is currently in my notebook? so many of my fics begin handwritten notebooks from the dollar store. i have been very unmotivated to type them out and add them to my queue. so i thought i'd tell ya'll what i've been writing up in my spare time! <3

"toto the terror" - toto wolff tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, spanking/punishments, tp!toto, age gap (20/50), teasing, dirty talk/degrading language, rough sex, bruises, mean!toto

"me and my man" - max verstappen tags: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!reader, collars & leashes, dom/sub, clubs, semi-public sex, couch sex, dirty talk, french speaker!reader

"crisp mornings" - simon "ghost" riley tags: smut/pwp, morning sex, age gap (20/50), oral sex, cowgirl position, size kink/difference, reitred!simon, cup of tea

"business vacation" - toto wolff tags: smut/pwp, ceo!au, ceo!toto, assistant!reader, semi public, poolside sex, size difference/kink, cowgirl position, beach chair sex, alcohol, age gap (20/50)

"a pair of aces" - franco colapinto tags: smut/pwp, williams driver!reader, (somewhat) rivals, clothes sharing, banter, canadian!reader, semi public sex, getting caught, multiple sex scenes, fingering, cowgirl position, kissing

#bunny speaks #formula 1 #call of duty #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #toto wolff #max verstappen #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto #reader insert

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echobx · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 2024

author's note: this collection contains a multitude of specific warnings, including darker subjects like cnc and dub-con. for more accurate warnings please refer to the works themselves as they will go in more depth with it than what I will list here.

all works were written before October 1st and have in no way shape or form any correlation to what will happen/is happening in s4.

this series is obviously 18+ and I do not take responsibility for your reading choices, especially when you are a minor choosing to read this.

posting time: 1pm (GMT+1) // 7am (EST)

𝕆𝕟𝕖 - Rivalry

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, hate fucking, anal

⚠︎ word count: 778

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕠 - There's a first for everything

⚠︎ pairing: JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, pegging, sub!JJ

⚠︎ word count: 1k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 - The Bra

⚠︎ pairing: bsf!JJ × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, tit fucking, oral (male receiving)

⚠︎ word count: 352

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣 - Everyone has a Price pt.1

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × virgin!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: suggestive language, mild banter

⚠︎ word count: 2.5k

⚠︎ series masterlist

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖 - Games

⚠︎ pairing: Pope Heyward × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, semi-public (audible over headset), p in v (protected)

⚠︎ word count: 958

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕊𝕚𝕩 - NSFW Alphabet Sunday

⚠︎ character: Rafe Cameron

⚠︎ theme/kinks: nsfw headcanons

⚠︎ word count: 1.3k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 - Double the Fun (part of this au)

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron & JJ Maybank × fem!polyam!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, dvp, double creampie

⚠︎ word count: 902

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 - stripper!JJ headcanons

⚠︎ pairing: stripper!JJ × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: fluffy, tiny bit smut

⚠︎ word count: 50 points

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖 - Big Boy

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, loss of virginity

⚠︎ word count: 1k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕖𝕟 - NO WORKS ON SHOW DAY

⚠︎ pairing:

⚠︎ theme/kinks:

⚠︎ word count:

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𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 - Everyone has a Price pt.2

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × virgin!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: light miscommunication, angsty with fluff

⚠︎ word count: 2.2k

⚠︎ series masterlist

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖 - Daddy?

⚠︎ pairing: babydaddy!JJ × pregnant!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, daddy kink, oral (fem receiving)

⚠︎ word count: 621

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - NSFW Alphabet Sunday

⚠︎ character: Pope Heyward

⚠︎ theme/kinks: nsfw headcanons

⚠︎ word count: 1.9k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - The Spins

⚠︎ pairing: bsf!JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, high sex

⚠︎ word count: 1.5k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝔽𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - Sleepy Girl

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, somnophilia, cnc

⚠︎ word count: 482

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕊𝕚𝕩𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - Post Game Stress Relief (part of this series)

⚠︎ pairing: Leo Grecco × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, oral (male receiving)

⚠︎ word count: 1.3k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - The Experiment

⚠︎ pairing: Pope Heyward × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, semi-public (audible over headset), p in v (protected)

⚠︎ word count: 960

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - Everyone has a Price pt.3

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × virgin!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, loss of virginity, oral (fem receiving), handjob, fingering, fluffy

⚠︎ word count: 2.8k

⚠︎ series masterlist

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 - Private Chef Maybank

⚠︎ pairing: JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: cooking with cum

⚠︎ word count: 556

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪 - NSFW Alphabet Sunday

⚠︎ character: Leo Grecco

⚠︎ theme/kinks: nsfw headcanons

⚠︎ word count: 1.3k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕆𝕟𝕖 - Dream Job

⚠︎ pairing: boss!Rafe Cameron × secretary!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, oral (male receiving), cock warming

⚠︎ word count: 472

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕋𝕨𝕠 - The Lego Set

⚠︎ pairing: Pope Heyward × fem!Kook!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, overstimulation, praising

⚠︎ word count: 1.3k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 - vampire!girlfriend headcanons

⚠︎ part 1: Pope Heyward

⚠︎ part 2: JJ Maybank

⚠︎ part 3: Rafe Cameron

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣 - Morning Sex

⚠︎ pairing: JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, morning sex, voice kink

⚠︎ word count: 953

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖 - Everyone has a Price pt.4

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × virgin!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving)

⚠︎ word count: 1.8k

⚠︎ series masterlist

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕊𝕚𝕩 - Too Drunk to Fuck (part of this series)

⚠︎ pairing: Leo Grecco × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, drunk sex, floor sex, p in v (unprotected)

⚠︎ word count: 797

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 - NSFW Alphabet Sunday

⚠︎ character: JJ Maybank

⚠︎ theme/kinks: nsfw headcanons

⚠︎ word count: 1.6k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 - Scene. And Action!

⚠︎ pairing: Rudy Pankow × fem!PA!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, public sex, oral (fem receiving)

⚠︎ word count: 1.4k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖 - camp counselor!JJ headcanons

⚠︎ pairing: JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: fluffy, with smut

⚠︎ word count: 20 points

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 - Lover turned Brother

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, stepcest

⚠︎ word count: 1.2k

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪-𝕆𝕟𝕖 - The Hay Maze (part of this series)

⚠︎ pairing: Leo Grecco × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, open-air/public sex, p in v (unprotected)

⚠︎ word count: 2k

𝔹𝕆ℕ𝕌𝕊

Birthday Schenanigans

⚠︎ pairing: JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, edging, thigh riding, fingering

⚠︎ word count: 969

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

The Blessing (part of this series)

⚠︎ pairing: Rafe Cameron × plus size!fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: edging, formal wear (clothes stay on)

⚠︎ word count: 840

﹏﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏⁠﹏

Good Luck

⚠︎ pairing: JJ Maybank × fem!reader

⚠︎ theme/kinks: smut, p in v (unprotected), backshots, creampie, semi-public

⚠︎ word count: 595

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

𝕞𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕤

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #jj maybank #rafe cameron #pope heyward #rudy pankow #leo grecco #~kinktober24 #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #pope heyward x reader

273 notes · View notes

sserajeans · 1 year ago

Text

you are in love

a hanni x fem! reader smau

synopsis: hanni and y/n have been friends since the beginning of time. one could argue best friends, even. but something's different in the air this school year, whether it's the pressure of senior year or y/n's urgent need to break her single streak, it's up to the whole gang to get the girls to realize how they feel (and quick).

starring: hanni minji hyein danielle (nwjns), wonyoung (ive), leehan (boynextdoor), gyuvin (zb1), kazuha (lsrfm), jiwoo (nmixx) and more...

others + genre: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots in denial, fluff, non-idol au, slow burn, angst, love triangle-ISH loosely based off taylor swift's "you are in love"

notes: irregular updates due to school and other stuff, ignore timestamps, will start updating after i finish through half the story!!

profiles: fish hooks, the backyardigans

playlists: over here!

1. captain y/n

2. I DON'T NEED STEROIDS

3. girlypops

4. sob sesh? (written)

5. y/n vs diffuser

6. cupid gyubi

7. COUGAR Y/N!

8. AND YOU ARE?

9. uhm hi

10. first date?

11. allan gyuvin

12. #FifthHarmony

13. the snitch's story

14. shes grown 🙄

15. does it matter

16. d-day (half-written)

17. twitter debut

18. dumbass y/n

19. simp city

20. should've said no (written)

21. FLOWERS 🔥

22. ijbol worthy

23. under pressure

24. match made in ocean (semi-written?)

25. burnt toast, sunday (half-written)

26. wonyoung vs leehan

27. brr it's cold

28. y/n whore allegations

29. the dates

30. let kim cook

31. how u been, y/n?

32. bbangsaz to the rescue!

33. never grow up

34. lee y/n, believe in yourself

bonus: BHB, be honest bro!

35. minji = idiog

36. lee y/n, our superstar

37. can't-doggy-paddle

38. daniyn, hanyn, and... wonyn?

39. oppenheimer sundays

40. avoidant lee y/n

41. the niniz dilemma

42. minji senses

43. WONMIN⁉️

44. making the bed (written)

45. @/cantthinkofausr

46. collision course

47. coffee at midnight (written)

48. we kind of fought

49. 04z!

50. stylish lee hyein, boring lee y/n

51. the christmas fair pt. 1 (written)

bonus: you wanna bet?

52. the christmas fair pt. 2 (written)

53. god's silliest soldier

54. fighting a losing battle

55. sitting ducks

56. paper flowers

57. 2am, cursing your name

taglist (OPEN): @yyeonmis @lostamoeba @jisooftme @yoontoonwhs @awkwardtoafault @kvnii @lcv3lies @limbforalimb @spritin @kaypanaq @i06kkura @manooffline @kimsgayness @justme-idle @jenaissantex @mightymyo @sewiouslyz @wowowowcake

#newjeans fanfic #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans smau #hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader #hanni imagines #hanni smau #kim minji #danielle marsh #mo jihye #kang haerin #lee hyein

1K notes · View notes

himeryu · 2 years ago

Text

— Love Rivalry (kaveh x reader)

PAIRING kaveh x gn!reader (ft. alhaitham)

GENRE social media au, college au

SYNOPSIS You’ve been rejected by your academic rival, alhaitham, without even confessing or having feelings for him. You decided to go to a party to fix your damaged ego, so why are you suddenly making out with his roommate?

TAGS attempt in comedy, fluff, angst, drama, jealousy, misunderstandings, fast burn ish, implied sexual content (no smut)

WARNINGS might be ooc, written before kaveh’s official release, unrealistic depiction of college, cw images of cats, alcohol, kys/kms jokes

STATUS ongoing! (11/16/22)

main m.list

profiles: (reader’s) peak mental illness | (kaveh’s) most wanted

00. prologue (🌻)

ACT I — delusional

01. confession

02. brutal

03: rumors

04. beer

05. rejection

06. one word

07. stream

08. cheating lover

09. real talk

10. plan

ACT II — scandal

11. lost (🌻)

12. scandal (🌻)

13. operation kidnap and runaway

14. stage 1 (🌻)

15. uh oh

16. gamble (🌻)

17. you won

18. balcony (🌻)

19. number

20. RIB

— bonus. redacted

ACT III — presentation

21. D-day

22. malewife

23. nike

24. run away with me? (🌻)

25. kdrama

26. speed run

27. stood me up (🌻)

28. mistake (🌻)

29. "damsel in distress"

30. thank you

— bonus. roommate (🌻)

ACT IV — disaster

31. he's back

32. new member

33. bromance (lets make out platonically)

34. make it up to him

35. snitch ass childe

36. i gotchu

37. green looks better on you (🌻)

38. is it alright if i continue this?

39. scara vs ayato

40. yellow suits you (🌻)

— bonus. my own way

ACT V — can i call you mine?

41. menaces

42. question (🌻) — 2 years ago

43. haunted (🌻) — 2 years ago

44. this is me trying (🌻) — 2 years ago

45. you're losing me (🌻) — 2 years ago

45-2. illicit affairs (🌻) — 2 years ago

46. stay gold (🌻)

47. your eyes tell

48. what are we?

49. favor

50. closure

51. can i call you mine? (🌻)

— bonus. right where you left me

end of story

note: im back with smau cause writing sucks

taglist closed!

@dee-zbignuts @lxry-chxn @ducq @nikkicola @artssleepy @arraxthatsonjah @kunihaver @i-x4o @soohasoya @yae-raidenmyloves @aixaingela @09yyeol @nebulaera @bokutetsumu @kairxse @victoria1676 @thenightsflower @ti-lsy @alizaneth @abvolat @carnnieval @ultimate-imagines @ventisoba @skimm0nzz @slvdsjjk @succutie @empathum @saoiirsee @disa-ster @httpmitsuya @kunikuzushiit @semi-orangeapple @goodthingimsam @strawberry1894 @meep13r @leeyanyanyaaan @heart-cream @crueldinasty @justonemoreroz @boordbokee @moraxsimp69 @kkiryu @r4yyyyy @tartagli-yuh @raideneiari @kaekazuha04 @dazaiscum @mayasshitposts @kunikuzi @ruisann (taglist full)

-- this is my first time doing a taglist so pls send an ask or comment if it isn't working thank you

2K notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 7 months ago

Text

Requests in my inbox. Part 2

Time to update my list. Few things to be noted:

1. I might mixed up anon and non-anon requests. So, don't worry, if you were sure, that you have send your request as (non) anon, but in the list it in opposite group.

2. There are few more asks in my inbox, but, they are lean closer to asking a simple question and don't require to write a fic (or bullet fic). So, I didn't include them.

3. Thank you all for all interesting ideas and requests.

Anon

1. Ayatsuji Yukito, Akutagawa Ryunosuke and Selectively Mute Reader

2. Reader commited S* because of bullying

3. Something with Self-Aware! Chuuya

4. Teen! Autistic! Reader

5. Reader are extremely beautiful and feminine

6. Reader are also a character in anime and still aren't Self-Aware

7. Child! Reader are independent, because they came from abusive family (Dazai, Poe, Fukuzawa)

8. Reader main Ayato (Fitzgerald)

9. Teen! Reader who are a straight A student

10. Ranpo is Reader's favorite character

11. BEAST AU and Guiding Light

12. Reader are like Kanade Yoisaki

13. Teen! Reader were turned into a baby (Hunting Dogs)

14. Reader have an ability, that works in a dark (Sun/Moon inspired)

15. Reader casually mention 2016 clown craze

16. Guiding Light have a cheating partner (Hunting Dogs)

17. Reader are similar to Ariana Grande (short, can ran a marathon while wearing heels, will fall after taking a step, wearing slippers)

18. Something with Self-Aware! Francis

20. Characters reaction on hearing a rap about them

21. Characters learn about Final Destination movies

22. Reader play BSD together with their best friend

23. Reader are a stage actor in BSD on Stage and play Dazai

24. Traveler-like! Reader

25. Another anime became Self-Aware (JJK)

26. Reader are underweight

27. Reader are a dub actor for someone from BSD

28. Reader are a smart 5-6 years old (Tetchou and Chuuya)

29. Furina! Reader

30. Reader gain an ability

31. Aroace! Reader

32. How BSD Characters will feel about Idol/Cosplayer Reader

33. Reader got home injured

34. Reader turned into a cat

35. Really Tall! Teenage! Reader

36. Teen! Reader who like to press buttons

37. Only BEAST AU became Self-Aware

38. Child! Reader didn't understand implications about Mori

39. Reader are like Izana Kurokawa

40. Genderfluid! GrayAce! Reader with PTSD from abusive friendship

41. Reader roast people's cooking on TikTok

42. Reader randomly mention funny events

43. Teen! Reader who came from Troubled Teen Industry

44. BSD being overprotective over Teen! Reader

45. Reader turned into a cat (2nd request)

46. Jingliu! Reader

47. Child! Reader with fear of abandonment

49. Reader have a dark past (Dazai, Atsushi and Chuuya)

50. Child Prodigy Reader

51. Male! Reader has Cyno's sence of humor

52. Reader have a mental disorder

53. Semi-romantic Chuuya x Adult! Reader

54. Focalor! Reader

55. Reader become angry because of an Imposter

56. Teen! Reader are a raging metalhead

57. Reader are a White Hat Hacker

58. SAGAU Cult AU

59. Self-Aware! Genshin and Self-Aware! BSD interactions

60. Reader died in Teyvat and returned to the real world

61. Reader have some ideas, how to help BSD Cast (Imposter au)

62. Reader are good at fitting things in places

63. Reader were SA by their Step-Father

64. Reader want to be an artist

65. Reaction to Bungou to alchemist

66. Feral! Teen! Reader

67. Child! Reader have a lung disease

68. Teen! Reader have troubles with following schedules

69. Reader are Aventurine

70. Imposter AU. Reader were SA

71. Child! Reader screaming while singing to a metal

72. Reader randomly cuddle with BSD Characters

73. Teen! Reader copy Mori's, Dazai's and Ango's behavior

74. Mori is Reader's favorite character

75. Reader has Karma's (assasination classroom) personality

Non-anon

1. Flirty! Ace! Reader

2. Reader are busy and didn't play BSD that much

3. Jouno and Tetchou with Reader, who play viola

4. Reader have an OC they ship with BSD Character

5. Platonic Yanderes Atsushi and Kyuoka with Teen! Reader

6. DOA make Mitsuri! Reader a new uniform

7. Yandere! Chuuya with Requester's OC-based! Reader

8. FNAF Crossover (Reader survived The Missing Kids Incident)

9. Reader is similar to Kagura Mikazuchi

10. Reader's favorite character is PM Dazai and Reader are ashamed because of it

11. Reader have magic

12. Reader is a very good cosplayer

13. Classroom of the elite crossover (Reader escaped the White Room)

14. Hilichurls protect Reader (Imposter AU)

15. BSD Characters react to some theories (Atsushi, Chuuya, Rimbaud, Verlaine)

16. BSD Cast arrive on Reader's birthday

17. Reader are chill person with morbid sence of humor

18. Reader is a magical girl (Logicalist)

19. Diluc and Akutagawa (Imposter AU)

20. Reader have a character-based account

21. Reader is a dancer

22. Reader is an artist with uncurable disease

24. Reader are happy to go to the beach in Genshin world

25. Ballerina! Reader

26. Male! Teen! Reader who is neglected by his parents, but have two big sisters

27. Reader are a mafioso's child

28. Nikolai vs Lyney

29. Atsushi vs Tighnari

30. Reader have smarts of Kevin from Home Alone

31. Guiding Light has powers

32. Reader in Liyue (Imposter AU)

33. Reader were executed, but returned back to life (imposter au)

34. Ranpo x Fem! Reader

35. Teen! Reader failed a test

36. Scarecrow! Reader (imposter au, lots of fandoms)

37. Reader are a BSD Character and were killed

38. Male! Reader are a voice actor

39. BSD Cast react to same voice actors

40. Child! Reader from this fic end up in Teyvat

41. Filipino! Teen! Reader singing Orange and Lemons and Eraserheads songs

42. Emo! Fem! Reader

43. SCP-999! Fem! Reader

44. BEAST! BSD and Protective! OG! BSD

Event

5. Soukoku

6. Karma

7. Fyodor, Dazai

8. Oda, Dazai

9. Mori, Natsume, Fukuzawa

10. Chuuya and Dazai

11. Flags

12. Akutagawa, Atsushi, Dazai

13. Fukuzawa, Mori, Natsume

14. OG! Soukoku and BEAST! Soukoku

15. BEAST! Dazai

16. BEAST! Shin Soukoku

17. BEAST! Soukoku

18. Nikolai

19. Port Mafia

20. Dazai, Fyodor

21. Goncharov, Shibusawa, Gogol (fem! Reader, Tsaritsa-focused)

22. Koyou

24. DOA

25. Frankenstein, Chuuya, Verlaine

26. Q

27. Verlaine

28. Dazai and BEAST! Dazai

29. Soukoku (Teen! Reader)

30. Verlaine, Rimbaud, Chuuya

31. Buraiha trio

32. Fyodor and Nikolai

33. BEAST Dazai, Yumeno, BEAST Akutagawa

34. Ayatsuji, Tsujimura, Ango

35. Organisations' Leaders (Fukuzawa, Mori, Fitzgerald, Fyodor, Fukuchi, Chief Taneda)

36. Flags

#self-awarebsd

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winged-self-indulgence · 6 months ago

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This is so rushed and spun off from a truly unhinged discussion but I needed to write something for this AU while I have timeeee @tiffykins-yeah I hope this is at least semi entertaining lmao

The day Binary Star Hero turned against the heroes; the skies went dark.

Metaphorically of course. Strictly speaking, very little changed in the grand scheme of things. Although the NAHA, reporters, and anyone with a media presence certainly behaved as though the world itself had come to an end. Herschel was on the news lamenting the loss of the earth’s brightest star to the forces of darkness, news anchors would not shut up about the catastrophic consequences of losing the greatest hero mankind had ever known, and drama youtubers milked the controversy of the NAHA’s ignominious fall from grace as Binary Star Hero – real name Ray – exited the hero headquarters followed by a bevy of interns, office workers, and bottom-rung employees. Employees who, with vicious innocence, detailed the NAHA’s horrendous working conditions.

“We didn’t even have dental,” one sighed despondently. “My friend’s teeth haven’t been the same since that rock hero went on a rampage in the office.”

When asked the reason they had chosen to follow the new villain – was it blind worship? Stockholm syndrome? Were they being threatened in any way? – the gathering just scoffed.

“He’s paying my medical bills,” one replied. “The NAHA didn’t even want to pay for my insulin. I had to argue with like 5 different people to get it added to my benefits package.”

“Wait, you were getting benefits? I’ve been working on minimum wage for years!”

“You guys were getting paid?!”

At that point, the hero formerly known as Binary Star Hero attempted to fly away from the commotion, causing one of the former NAHA employees to yell something to the effect of “quick, follow that tacky sweater!” Which caused the crowd to peal off after the rapidly shrinking red dot in the sky, leading to several traffic obstructions, and signaling the start to a villainous career change.

Ray stared at clothing rack in front of him, at the five mannequins arranged in various dramatic poses, and finally at the group of expectantly waiting…what to call them? Underlings? Sure, that worked. The underlings stared back at him, some carrying more fabric while others held sewing kits, needles, thread, and baskets of accessories.

There was no need to read their minds to understand what they all wanted, but he still felt the need to ask. “What is this?”

“For your villain rebranding, the team decided on an aesthetic overhaul,” the one at the front announced brightly, gesturing to the steel rack that had been crammed with outfits in a range of dark colours – purples, indigoes, heavy shades of grey and even denser blacks. Some had capes, most did not. “Of course, this would all be easier if you would simply decide on a new name, but I suppose we can whittle down the choices later.”

Ray flashed back to the moment he’d walked past the conference room – a massive underground addition to his lair (he didn’t call it that, but the PR team were very Committed To The Bit) – and seen a horde of them gathered around the whiteboard and shouting suggestions at the person at the front. On the interactive surface were at least 50 names, though Ray only got through Lunar Eclipse and Superordinate Gravitational Collapse before he’d decided to leave that problem for Future Ray to sort out.

Unfortunately, the future had come. “This is completely unnecessary,” Ray plucked at the sleeve of one of the outfits and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in fact not made of impossibly tight spandex. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Another employee stepped up, swiping the screen of the iPad with a finger. “Sir, [MC] will be clocking into the afternoon shift in approximately one hour. Would you like to pick up your coffee then?”

“Hm,” Ray rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What’s on my schedule before that?”

“Uh, there’s a senator you hate giving a bigoted speech about drag queens, then you wanted me to remind you to rob that bank on 6th Avenue,” another swipe across the screen, “oh, and you’re out of ice cream.”

“The speech should be happening in the park across from the coffeeshop where [MC] works,” one of the team piped up. “We can reschedule the bank robbery and take some casual photos of you at the coffeeshop. The mid-afternoon sun would be great for the Total Eclipse social media page!”

“Dude, we discussed this! The team hasn’t decided on a villain name yet!”

“For the last time, we’re not choosing your idea!”

“Fuck you, Dark Star is a great evil name!”

“We are not linking him to a shitty 90s movie!”

“You take that back!”

Taking advantage of their distraction, Ray turned his attention to one of his favourite groups in the team. “Any updates?”

The employee saluted – Ray had given up on making them stop doing that – and pulled out her own iPad. “Sir–” (“Don’t call me that.”) “–they liked the post of you singing while playing the guitar and left a sweating emoji on the latest shirtless pic.”

“What about the one of me saving a kitten at the shelter?”

“Unfortunately, it was flagged for violence after one of the team forgot to edit out the part where you tossed someone through the walls for having an unsolicited picture of [MC] as their phone-screen background.”

“Ah, right,” Ray nodded reminiscently. “That did happen, huh. Upload it again, and monitor. If that’s all…”

He took off through the window, off to do various evil deeds and visit his favourite barista, while ignoring the screeching below as the two feuding members of the team finally stopped fighting long enough to notice his departure.

“FUCK, HE DIDN’T PICK A COSTUME!”

“SIR, AT LEAST CHANGE THE SWEATER!”

#binary star hero fic #binary star hero #bshvn #binary star au #my fic

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skrunklyshrimp · 5 months ago

Text

Favourite regular - Semi E.

You, a new business owner, becomes close with your new favourite regular, Semi Eita. Coffee shop AU

Warnings: Timeskip spoilers for their jobs!

Notes: Thank you @cheshanoneko-draws for the image! Also I rushed the ending a bit, so if it seems a bit lackluster that's why! 5545 words!

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Finally I’m able to go home on time. I haven’t practiced guitar in a while.” Semi Eita mutters to himself. He’s had to work overtime for the past few days, sleeping in the office. By the time he eventually reaches the bus stop, the bus has already passed. “I want coffee.” he sighs and looks at the nearby stores, to his surprise a new coffee shop has opened.

Ding, ding.

The familiar sound of the door cracking open gains your attention. You look over to see someone in a suit with ashy blond hair and tired demeanor, the thing that catches your attention the most though being his beautiful brown eyes.

“Welcome to the shop! What can I get for you tonight?” You ask the man as he approaches the counter.

“A medium coffee, black please.” He requests.

“That will be 350 yen please.” You wait as he digs around his pockets.

“Shit I only have 300, just make the coffee small.” The man sighs.

“Don’t worry about the 50 yen, it’s on the house. After all, you're one of my first customers.” You quickly say, feeling bad for the poor man, he probably just came back from a long day at work.

“I’ll pay you back, I promise, er,” He squints his eyes trying to see your nametag, “(L/N). I will pay you back (L/N).”

“Please don’t worry about it, like I said it’s on the house.” You respond, pouring out his coffee. “Make sure you get rest today, I can tell you had a long day.”

The man nods while grabbing his drink and walking back outside to the bus stop. You sigh and lean against the counter after a long day at work, after you’ve taken a rest you get back up to finish cleaning.

“I had to sleep in the office again!” Semi complains while kicking a rock on the street. “I’m gonna have to call the band to cancel again. Damn it!” He wails in anger. “I need another coffee.” Sighing, he starts heading to a familiar shop.

Ding, ding.

“Welcome- oh it’s you from the other day!” You say, happy to see a possible regular.

“You remember me?” He questions,

“Of course I do! I try to remember all my customers, they’re all special to me and this shop.” You gleefully say, “Now a medium black coffee again?” He nods at your statement before adding,

“As well as two of those croissants please.” He requests.

“Your total is 1030 yen.” You answer, grabbing his two croissants as he looks around in his pockets.

He hands you 1100 yen, grabbing the croissants you were holding. “Here, keep the change. I told you I’d repay you one day.”

“Wait! I can’t take extra money from a customer, here let me get your change.” You hurry to grab the cash out of the register only for something to be shoved into your mouth.

“I told you I’d repay you. Don’t mind getting me another croissant.” He smiled at you.

You pull the croissant out of your mouth, “You didn’t have to do that. Anyway, if you don’t have anywhere to be, would you like to sit and chat while we eat?” You ask as you start brewing the coffee.

“I don’t have anywhere to be, it would be a pleasure to eat with you.” Semi responds.

It’s funny, Semi thought. He wanted to go home, have a beer and sleep the night away, but here he is waiting for you to finish making his drink so the two of you can chat.

“Here you go, uh…” The realization hit you, “Oh my god I don’t even know your name! I’m so so sorry.” You apologize for your lack of manners but he just laughs.

“You’re kind of a clutz, I guess that’s what attracts people to you.” He says, grabbing his coffee, “My name is Semi Eita.”

“Have a seat anywhere Semi, I’ll join you after I make myself a drink.” You tell him, starting to prepare your own drink.

As Semi sat down in a booth he realized that the coffee shop was extremely clean, even if it was around closing time. This leads him to wonder if you get many customers. He wondered why people wouldn’t want to come. There’s you with a friendly personality, the beautifully decorated interior and the delicious pastries.

“Sorry it took a little long to make my drink.” You take a seat across from him. “So, Semi. Where do you work? You always seem so tired.” You wondered.

“I’m a civil servant, I mainly work with taxes and stuff. It’s a busy season right now.” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, “I also play in a band as a side gig.”

“You’re lying right?! That’s so cool!” You exclaim, “Being in a band, even as a side gig, is such a huge thing! What instrument do you play? Or are you a vocalist?” You bombard him with questions, flustering him a bit.

“I play guitar, but since it's a busy season I’ve been canceling practices with the other members.” He awkwardly laughs. “You should come watch us play one day, I promise we’re not the worst.”

“I’ll watch no matter what! Supporting small bands or businesses is something I’m completely fine with doing. Probably because this coffee shop is a small business so I understand what they may be going through.” You answer.

“I’ll continue to support your business.” He says while standing up. “It’s my que to head out now, the bus should be passing by any minute now. Thank you for this chat (L/N). Next time we’ll talk more about you.” Semi began to run out to his bus stop.

Sighing, you start to clean off the table the two of you were sitting at, changing the sign at the front from open to closed. Today you didn’t get many customers, but that’s the business world, some days will be slow. Flicking off the lights you grabbed your keys and started walking home.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“SemiSemi!” A particular annoying voice calls out to Semi.

“What’s up Tendou. Oh? You came with Ushijima too?” Semi states, seeing Ushijima wave as Tendou jumps up and down in the air, getting Semi’s attention.

“That’s right! Ushijima had a free day today so he was able to come with us.” Tendou says, “Also here, freshly made chocolate!” He throws a bag of chocolate at Semi.

“I don’t get any?”

“Oh Goshiki. I didn’t realize you were coming too.” Ushijima says.

“Yeah, I managed to find time between games and classes.” Goshiki responds, “Also Shirabu is supposed to be coming as well.”

“We may be missing the majority of the team but it’s like we’re all still here together.” Semi reminisced about the time they had ditched volleyball practice to visit a shrine together, now years later they’re visiting the same shrine.

“Don’t act like they’re dead, Semi. All of them are very much alive.” Shirabu says, making his late grand entrance.

“You look dead inside. How’s med school treating you?” Semi asks, looking Shirabu up and down.

“Whatever it’s not like you look any better!”

“That’s enough you two, do you have to have me step in like back then?” Tendou says, slugging his arms over their shoulders.

“I never want to see anything like that ever again please Tendou.” Goshiki shudders at the memory.

“Let’s head up then.” Ushijima says, walking ahead of the group.

You decided to head up to the shrine to pray for good fortune, with bills racking up it looks like you might go under soon. After praying you wonder where to go next. You can’t open the shop since it’s a holiday, you can’t buy anything since you don’t have money, all your friends are with family right now. You sigh.

“(L/N) is that you?” You hear a voice call out to you, surprised you turn around to see Semi looking at you. He was wearing some jewelry with a darker colour scheme, paired with a fur coat on top.

“Who’s this Semi? Did you find a date and not tell us!?” A red haired person panics behind him.

“No this is (L/N), they own a coffee shop around the bus stop I take to go home. I went in one day and I keep visiting, I’m a regular there.” Semi explains the situation to his friends.

“Nice to meet you!” A black haired man extends his hand, “I’m Goshiki, nice to meet you (L/N).”

“Goshiki you just said the same thing twice.” An olive haired man says before approaching you, “I’m Ushijima.”

“My name is Shirabu, I’m actually the closest with Semi out of everyone here.” The man with sandy hair waves at you as Semi rolls his eyes.

“And last but not least I’m-”

“You’re Tendou Satori!” You exclaim. “Your chocolate is so popular, I’m actually a huge fan of your work and I hope you continue to show how you make chocolate! Seeing you motivated to follow your dreams as a chocolatier actually inspired me! “ You laugh awkwardly, seeing as how you’re bombarding the man. “I hope you expand your shop, I’d love to taste some chocolate here instead of traveling all the way to France.”

“Man I didn’t get to do a big introduction, but I’m glad I’ve got a fan! I might try expanding here, depends on how I feel. Alas,” He dramatically places a hand on his head, “if only I had known you were going to be here, I would’ve brought extra chocolate.” He sounds guilty over the fact that he wasn’t able to give his, probable, number one fan anything.

“No no don’t worry about it! I’ll buy your chocolates one day but I kinda can’t afford anything right now haha.” You joke around.

“Since you’re here, want to join us for the day?” Semi asks, shortly realizing you might be with someone, “If you’re not with anyone now that is.”

“I’m not here with anyone. I’d love to join you all but I can’t really buy anything.” You say awkwardly. Semi looks at you with a frown.

“Then I’ll pay, consider it appreciation for how kind you are to me whenever I come into your store.” Semi says, not allowing you to say anything else as he drops his arm over your shoulders. “Where are we going next guys?”

“Did not think we’d be here. Do you even know how to skate Goshiki?!” Semi yells at the poor boy.

As the group was walking around town Goshiki and Ushijima wanted to try going skating, the entire group agreed except for Semi. Why did only Semi disagree? Semi didn’t know how to skate and he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“To answer your question Semi, when I was younger my mom wanted me to go pro with skating, but eventually I got into volleyball and skating became a hobby of mine.” Goshiki answers, shocking almost the entire group.

“It looked like you had prior experience so I’m not surprised. It’s odd.” You say getting the attention of everyone, “I find that depending on whatever sport you’ve participated in changes the way you walk or act. Like Goshiki you walk like a volleyball player but there's this hint of elegance behind it, you must have been a figure skater.” Goshiki looked at you, jaw to the floor with your accurate assumption of the sports he partook in.

“Woah (L/N) you’re super good at analyzing people, were you some sort of sports manager back in high school?” Tendou asks, surprised by your knowledge.

“Nah, I’ve just liked looking at people from afar.” You say before realizing how wrong that sounds, “I mean not in the creepy way! Like in a sort of observation way. It’s interesting seeing how people interact with someone they like or dislike. Or if they’re having a bad day or not.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I don’t get it though.” Ushijima says finishing tying up his skates.

“Everyone good to go on now?” Shirabu asks. He was waiting on the ice for a while as the majority of you struggled with getting skates on.

Everyone gets on the ice slowly but surely. Shirabu and Goshiki start skating and trying to one up the other, Tendou and Ushijima skate around trying to get used to the feeling, as you try to get Semi on the ice.

“I don’t know how to do it, I think it’s better if I sit this out.” Semi says, his body shaking from nerves.

“Don’t be like that! You could have a fun time without knowing it, just hold on to the railing and I’ll be right beside you the whole time. I promise.” You try to convince him, holding out your hand to assist him onto the ice.

Still shaking, Semi grabs your hand and slowly gets onto the ice. While trying to get his left food onto the ice he trips over the bar and falls forwards a bit. Since you weren’t expecting the sudden force you fall down backwards, still holding hands with Semi dragging him down on top of you.

“I’m so sorry (L/N)!” Semi says, getting off you and sitting against the side. “I told you I should’ve stayed on the side.”

“Don’t be sorry, we’re having fun aren’t we! Look, you're on the ice now.” You cheer him up.

“Look at the lovebirds over there.” Tendou whispers to Ushijima, to which he nods in agreement.

“Thank you for today, as well as walking me home, Semi.” You thank him.

“It’s no problem really, and I should thank you for teaching me how to skate.” He laughs at himself. There were a lot of times where he fell and accidentally brought you down with him but you were right, he had a lot of fun.

“Be safe on the way back to your place, Semi, and make sure to not push yourself. I’ll see you around my favourite regular.” You tease him before shutting the door, leaving the poor man blushing madly.

“I’m your favourite huh.” Semi whispers to himself before walking away. “Damn it I should’ve asked for their contact info!” Semi realizes it’s too late to go back and ask.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ding, ding… Ding, ding… Ding, ding… Ding, ding…

Maybe it was the prayer from the shrine or your promotion got popular but you’re backed up in your shop today. Constantly taking orders, making pastries, and cleaning.

“Excuse me but why is it only you working? You should get another hire.” A random customer rudely says to you, to which you brush off. Up until today you weren’t able to afford really anything, but if business continues to be as busy as it is now things will get better.

“Oh, Semi! Welcome, I'll help you in a minute. I just have three more coffees to make before taking your order. Wait, you're getting a black coffee and croissant again right?”

“You’re right but it looks like you’re swarmed, want some help (L/N)?” He offers, “I’m not good with making coffee or pastries but I can take orders and clean tables. Something to take your mind off stuff.”

“An apron should be in the back, grab that and put it on. Thank you, Semi.” You say, smiling happily as you bring out orders.

“(L/N) we’ve run out of cupcakes!” Semi shouts at you.

“Give me a minute I’m putting frosting on them!” You yell back, quickly finishing the sweet treats and bringing them out to him. “I’ve got to make more dough, you got the front counter?” You ask, to which he nods.

Flipping around the sign from open to closed was the best feeling today. Both you and Semi Eita collapse on the ground.

“You really need to get another hire.” Semi pants out, his sweat dripping on the floor.

“Thank you for helping out but, didn’t you have work today? I didn’t keep you right?” You sit up, guilty for making him late.

“Actually I didn’t have work, I have the next 2 weeks off. I’m visiting France tomorrow to see Tendou.” He explains, sitting up with you.

“Tell him I said hi!” You excitedly say, “We should start cleaning this up so we can head home though.”

“Agreed.”

So the two of you spend the next 45 minutes prepping the pastry batter for tomorrow, cleaning the machinery and the tables, and taking out the trash.

“I’ll see you in a week, Semi.” You say, smiling.

“Eita.”

“Huh?” You ask, confused.

“Call me Eita, not Semi.” He answers, smiling back.

“Then, call me (Y/N).” You wave goodbye to Semi and head home. Even if he was a regular, a friendship has blossomed from it.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Semi sighs as he plops down on his bed, after being dragged around by Tendou for the entire week he needed a good night's rest. He went to many tourist attractions, he even went to a few bakeries around and, he has to admit, their baked goods were really good but it couldn’t compare to yours. Luckily enough he managed to snag some of Tendou’s chocolate before it all sold out. He thought to himself that he should give you some before drifting off into sleep.

Knock knock.

“Ughhhh…” Semi groans into his pillow, looking up at his clock he notices he’s only been asleep for 3 hours.

Knock knock!

Sighing Semi stands up and heads towards the door to answer whoever may be knocking.

“Welcome back Semi!” Two voices call out while confetti flies into his face.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Semi goans, seeing both his underclassmen standing at his door.

“We knew you went to France so we decided to welcome you when you came back home!” Goshiki says.

“Yeah, and we were wondering if you got us any souvenirs..” Shirabu says, eying down Semi.

“No.”

“What! Why not!?” Both of them exclaim at the same time.

“I’m just messing with you two, but did you both seriously have to come visit me the day I get back?” Semi asks while inviting them inside.

“It was the one day our schedules aligned so we could come together.” Shirabu answers, plopping himself down on the couch.

“Have you eaten yet Semi?” Goshiki asks.

“Nah, like I said I just came back and I immediately fell asleep.”

“Then if you don’t mind, let me make something!” Goshiki insists.

“Knock yourself out.” Semi answers, joining Shirabu on the couch.

“So you didn’t get souvenirs for just us right? Did you get some for (L/N)? What about Ushijima?” Shirabu bombards Semi.

“Well, Ushijima is rich as hell and you know it. He visits France all the time to see Tendou. I also didn’t get anything for (L/N).” Semi lied through his teeth. What he found which reminded him of you was a mug that highlighted your kind personality. He also found matching keychains for both you and his underclassmen.

“I don’t believe you but you can spout whatever you want. Start the TV so we can watch Ushijima play.” Shirabu complains.

“Shit he’s playing today? I thought that was tomorrow.” Semi says, turning on the TV just in time to see Ushijima spike a ball, gaining a point. “Damn that still gives me chills to this day.”

“Yeah Ushijima is super cool. I can’t believe how competitive I was with him back in high school.” Goshiki, embarrassed with himself, says while walking out with a tray of sandwiches and tea. “The tea just got poured, be careful.”

“I was surprised all those years ago when Tendou said he wasn’t going to go pro. I thought for sure he was.” Shirabu says, reminiscing about the past.

“You’re not one to be sappy, what's wrong with you.” Semi stares him down.

“Med school has been getting to me, what can I say?” Shirabu sighs. He takes up a cup of tea and sips it to only spit it back out.

“It’s hot isn't it?” Goshiki stares at Shirabu angrily.

“Yeah it is.”

“Maybe you should’ve listened to me.”

“Stop staring at me like that!” Shirabu yells back jokingly.

“Now, now, you two don’t make me call Tendou, you do know it's early in the morning for him.” Semi says, trying to stop the fight between the two. The two instantly stop bickering.

Back in high school there was once a fight between underclassmen around 2am. Tendou, who was woken up by this fight, managed to strike so much fear into the poor students to the point where they resigned from the volleyball club.

“Let’s just cheer on Ushijima, yeah?” Semi asks, to which the two boys nod their heads.

Semi sighs, glad to see his underclassmen but also glad that they’ve left. Goshiki, bless his heart for making food and drinks, choose the wrong tea, making caffeinated tea instead of uncaffeinated. Semi took this as a sign to fully unpack and clean the house, to get rid of some energy of course.

“Oh that’s right.” He mutters to himself, picking up the bag of chocolate that he bought for you.

See there was a little event that happened in France. Semi had stopped by a bakery and they had chocolate croissants and they were irresistible. That’s when he had an idea, he decided that when he came back he would try to make chocolate croissants for the both of you. He spent a good two hours asking Tendou how to melt it, how to properly drizzle the chocolate, pretty much every question in the book. Now it was the time to put all the knowledge he gained to use.

He burnt 2 batches, one of which was still raw on the inside. Thankfully his last chance at making a batch turned out perfectly. He quickly drizzled the chocolate on top, letting it sit. Thus your big souvenir from France was made.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Knock, knock.

“(Y/N)? Are you home? You should be off work at this time.” Semi asks, waiting for you to open the door, he has all your souvenirs in a gift bag. You rush to open the door.

“Eita, I’m so glad you’re back, I missed you!” You exclaim, jumping up and hugging him.

“Woah be careful! I bought you some gifts and one is fragile!” Semi says, placing one hand around your back to stabilize the two of you.

“You didn’t have to, after all I’m not as close as you are with your other friends.” You pout, gently letting yourself off of him.

“Well I wanted to get you something. Mind if I come in?” He asks, to which you oblige.

Semi walks in and places his gift bag on the table, you followed him shortly behind. He then pulls out three different wrapped gifts, each being a different size. You frown.

“Did you have to wrap them all?”

“No but I thought it would be a nice gesture.” He says handing the smallest gift to you first. “Open this.”

You smile, gladly pulling apart the wrapping to see a cute coffee keychain.

“They had four different colours of the coffee, so I bought all of them. Gave one to Goshiki and Shirabu and kept one for myself.” Semi says while pulling out his phone to show the cute green coffee cup hanging from it. “Here’s the second one.” He says handing you the next gift, which was the medium sized one.

“Thank you so much Eita, don’t forget to tell Goshiki and Shirabu that I’d love to hang out with them again!” You say, smiling at the fond memory of the two. “Alright let me open this bad boy!” You say while ripping off the wrapping.

It was a mug, a beautiful one at that. It had your name on the side of it with beautiful designs covering it.

“I got it at a small business, I specifically requested your name.” He says, smiling sheepishly. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do!” You respond almost immediately, running to the kitchen sink to wash it. “I’ll drink something out of it later. Now what’s the last gift!” You say while making grabby hands towards Semi.

“Here.” He hands you the last one, a slight hue a pink covering his cheeks.

You pull off the wrapping to see a container with croissants in it.

“French croissants? From a bakery?” You look up to him confused.

“I actually made the croissants myself, the chocolate though is Tendou’s chocolate. I melted some down and drizzled it on top, I also have a bag of them if you want it plain.” Semi says, giving you a big smile, “Let me know how they taste, yeah?”

“Eita..” You flush. He specifically remembered how you wanted to try Tendou’s chocolate, and he knew how much you liked pastries so he went out of his way and made you chocolate covered croissants. “Thank you, even if you were a regular at first, we definitely have blossomed into something more.”

Now it was his turn to blush.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ding, ding.

“Welcome!” An unfamiliar voice calls out to Semi. Looking to where the voice came from he notices a teenage girl instead of you. “What can I get for you?” The girl asks, smiling up at him.

“Is (Y/N), er, (L/N) here?” He asks, only for her to shake her head.

“(L/N) is sick right now so my mom asked me to take care of the store for them. I’m alright with it because when this place gets business I’m gonna apply here and work!” The girl says enthusiastically, “So are you gonna order anything?”

“I’ll take a medium green tea and soup to go please.” He answers.

Knock… knock… knock..

“(Y/N)? Are you home?” Semi asks, giving time between each knock of the door. Eventually the door swings open, scaring him.

“Eita what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” You ask in a daze, both from confusion and from your sickness.

“Firstly it’s the weekend, all I have is my band but we’re not practicing until later, secondly, I don’t want you to stay sick. Go inside, I'll warm up your soup.” Semi says, slightly shoving you back inside your house with ease.

“Oooookayyy, I’m going to the couch.” You point in the direction you’re going before sluggishly making your way there.

Locking the door, Semi lets himself in and heads straight for your kitchen. He brings out a pot and puts the soup inside, letting it boil. While it’s heating up he pours some tea out for you, kept warm by a thermal cup.

“(Y/N), here drink some of this.” Semi asks, placing the cup of tea next to you, after you not moving for a while he asks again for you to drink some. This goes on for a while before he’s fed up and takes the cup and holds it to your lips.

“Open your mouth a bit, I’ll pour some in for you to drink.” He smiles as you oblige, slightly opening your mouth allowing for some liquid to get in. “I’ll be right back with some soup for you.” He gets up and heads back to the kitchen.

As he’s out of view your cheeks turn a light pink, realizing what Semi had just done. Grabbing a pillow you lean your head down comfortably onto it.

“Have you eaten anything at all today? You shouldn’t get sick from lack of food.” He mutters, gently brushing some hair off your face only to realize you fell asleep. “I’ll put the soup in the oven to keep it warm.” He says standing up and grabbing the bowl.

After putting the bowl into the oven he notices the dishes that were left, wanting to make things easier he begins washing them. Just then the realization hit him, his face turned red as a tomato, he was acting as if you two were a married couple. For a good minute that was the only thing he could think of, getting very flustered.

Eventually you fell asleep. Not wanting you to sleep on the couch he picks you up and tries finding your room.

“(Y/N), is it this one?” He whispers, as to not stir you up too much. You groan yes in response. He gently places you down onto your bed, grabbing some blankets to place on top of you. He quickly runs downstairs to grab a glass of water in case you’re thirsty when you wake up.

“(Y/N).” He mutters to himself, “Am I in love with you?”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“After talking with the council, Semi you definitely like (L/N). Definitely in a romantic type of way too.”

“The fuck is the council?? You just asked Shirabu and Tendou their opinions, didn't you Goshiki.” Semi angrily says.

“You should try making a move Semi. Now I have to go, my practice starts soon.” Goshiki says before hanging up the phone.

Semi groans and composes himself before entering your shop. Looking around he doesn’t see you until he looks down to you on the floor scrubbing something.

“Oh! Eita, don’t mind me, one of the customers threw up on the floor.” You answer what was obviously going through his head.

“No get up, let me finish cleaning it up. You’ve probably had a long day.” He says before bending down and taking the cleaning supplies out of your hands.

“Thank you. Oh also! I get to have some time off, I found some new hires since business has been going well!” You say while taking off the puke covered gloves. “Since it’s not a busy season for you, we should hang out soon.”

“I have a show this friday. If you’d like to come, I can get you tickets.” Semi blurts out.

“Well now I can’t say no if one of the band members asks me!”

“I’ll send you the information afterwards, but now I’m gonna go wash my hands.” Semi says, placing the cleaning supplies down and walking away.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𖹭 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Woah.” Is all you can say when you see the venue. It’s quite small but still feels like a concert hall, it’s not too empty and feels homey almost. “Excuse me but where is this seat located?” You ask a person nearby.

“Oh you’re so lucky dear, that’s right in front!” The nice woman says. She directs you the right way, and you thank her.

She wasn’t lying, you were lucky. Front and center, you got the greatest view of the stage. You wait in suspense as the band members go on stage one by one until Semi walks up. Oh, is all you can think. His hair, his outfit, everything just made him so attractive.

The night went on, each song bringing a new edge, and finally after an hour the songs came to an end. Before anyone does anything Semi speaks up.

“My name is Semi Eita, I’m the guitarist for this band and I have an announcement to make.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, “I’ve fallen in love with one of you in the crowd, I truly hope you know who you are.” He says as he holds up his phone.

That’s when it hits you, the phone wasn’t him ending the night in some punk way, it was a way of showing who he liked, that person being you. You were the only one in the crowd who had matching souvenirs with you, you were the only one who talked with him daily.

You walk outside with the rest of the crowd, circling around to the back door. You sigh as you think this through again. Semi, he was definitely more than a regular but, did you really want to pursue a relationship with him? He helped when you were in a time of need, he bought and made little souvenirs for you when on his trip to France, got you chocolates you’ve been wanting forever, and took care of you when you were sick. On the flip side though, you only knew him because he became a regular, you don’t even have any way to contact any of his friends. You sigh, deciding on your final answer.

You knock on the back door to see one of Semi’s bandmates answer.

“Yo, I can’t let you in here, sorry.” He says.

“I’m here to see Semi, he invited me to come here and I kinda need a ride back.” You laugh awkwardly as the bandmates' eyes widen.

“So it’s you, yeah? The one he likes, c’mon in.” He laughs and opens the door for you.

“Thank you for opening the door and thank you for telling me it’s me.” You wave and go on the hunt to find Semi.

You see out of the corner of your eye the door that says Semi. You slowly open the door to see Semi sitting with his head in his hands muttering about anything and everything, you hear a few ‘why did I do that’ and ‘god they hate me now’.

“Eita, don’t worry.” You hug him from behind, “If today was your way of asking me on a date, then I accept.”

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