Pretty Little Thing | Joel Miller
joel miller x oc!f!reader
rating: 18+, minors dni
synopsis: it’s summertime and you’re working at a retro diner on the outskirts of austin. you’ve seen many faces and heard many voices all in a passing blur; ones you’ve never really payed any mind to—until one handsome southern gentleman in particular catches your special attention, and he’s got a voice you’d recognize anywhere—one that’s gotten you off more times than you’d like to admit.
warnings: original female character, no outbreak (game) joel, joel has a hidden identity in this for a bit, joel is taller than reader, joel can pull reader’s hair, reader is mentioned to blush once, joel indulges in virtual sex work, joel has no kids in this, flirting, talks of masturbation, smut (protected sex, blowjob, consensual choking, spitting, hair pulling, many ass slaps, edging, squirting, name calling, ass play), no use of y/n.
word count: 5.3k
a/n: this is entirely self indulgent. sorry for the small writing hiatus, life has been insanely busy. thanks for being patient with me as i ease back into writing fanfic.
-
It was like clockwork.
Every day was the same.
The same regulars, the same orders being put in, the same rushes.
The lunch rush usually died down around two, which gave you time to prepare for the dinner rush before five.
It was funny, really. You never thought that such a tiny diner off of Interstate 35, tucked in a corner on the outskirts of Austin, would have such an attraction as it does.
Maybe it was the house favorite flapjacks you guys sold. Maybe it was the friendly hospitality you and your favorite coworker, Betty, gave to new and familiar faces. Hell, maybe it was the half-decent coffee and the low prices for everything that kept everyone coming in and coming back.
Either way, it was all the same every single day.
Until today.
Usually, there’d be no more than three stragglers from lunch, and no one would come in until around five.
The little bell above the door chimed as someone walked in, and Betty tapped you on the shoulder with a pleading look in her eyes.
You averted your gaze from the sugar pourers you were refilling, giving her a small smile.
“Honey, I’m sorry, I was about to take my break. Can you take that table for me? I need a cig after this morning’s rush.” Her blonde-gray hair was in disarray and her voice was scratchy and desperate.
“No problem. Enjoy your break.”
“Bless you, sweetheart.”
You brush off the straggling sugar crystals that stuck to your hands on your black apron, pulling out your pad of paper and pen before approaching the man that sat with his back facing you.
You muster up the best smile you can before stopping at the booth, ready to jot down his order.
“Hello sir, how are you doin’ today?” You ask, and he looks up from the menu with a grin.
The first thing you notice is his eyes. They’re a warm and inviting shade of hazel; a mixture of a beautiful green that reflects off of his tan skin and an amber as smooth as whiskey.
Then you notice his lips. Pink and plush. Kissable.
And then there’s the smile hidden behind the lips. Bright, pearly whites that take your breath away and make your heart palpitate, because god, why is he so handsome?
It’s like he won the genetic lottery or something.
The mustache above his lips and the scruff on his jawline matches his dark hair with a few silver strands peeking through; the only identifier of his prospective age.
His lips pull up into a smirk as he watches you shamelessly checking him out. Truthfully, you want him to watch you watching him.
He clears his throat and your eyes snap back up to his. You tilt your head to the side and study him for a moment further before he finally speaks.
“I’ll take a black coffee n’ the number three please. Eggs over easy.”
You write down his order and your brows furrow as he speaks. Something about his voice sounds so… familiar.
“Midday breakfast?” You tease, and he offers you a shrug and a grin. “It’ll be right out, sir.” You gingerly take the menu from him and walk back behind the counter.
His voice keeps ringing through your head as you ring in his order on the POS system. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but his voice was attractive nonetheless — deep and gruff, yet sweet and polite.
Where the hell have you heard that voice before?
And then it hits you.
Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
That man’s voice has brought you more orgasms than you can possibly even count.
In a desperate need to get yourself off one night, you explored your options until you came across a faceless account. It was his broad body and thick, muscular arms that caught your attention. And — yeah, okay, maybe his deliciously girthy cock, too.
The final nail in the coffin was that thick, syrupy Southern drawl that reeled you in and immersed you in a world full of pleasure.
His voice and groans alone have made you come harder than any man you’ve ever been with.
Your throat goes dry as you look back at him, tucked into the booth he chose to sit at, looking at his phone.
You mindlessly pour his coffee and bring it out to his table, legs seemingly floating in his direction.
You set the coffee cup down on his table. His large hand grabs the cup, making it look nearly miniature.
Your mind was fuzzy and your core suddenly had an aching throb as you thought of his hands exploring your body; what they’d feel like all over you and — god, get a fucking grip.
“Was there anythin’ else I can get for you?” You ask as nonchalant as you can muster up.
“Nope, that’ll do it darlin’. Thank you.” The crinkles beside his eyes deepen in the slightest as he tosses a polite smile your way.
“Food should be out in a couple of minutes.” You rap your knuckles on the table once before turning around to finish topping off the sugar pourers.
The chef chimed the bell indicating the handsome man’s food was done. You wipe your hands on your apron once more before sucking in a breath.
You decided to shoot your shot and call him out by his screen name. You were confident it was him.
You saw no wedding band on his finger, either, so what the hell, right? Worst that could happen is he rejects your advances.
You grab his plate from the kitchen window and head toward his table. Your palms start to sweat and you’re nervous as hell, because fuck, a face like that is hard to forget.
You set the plate down in front of him and he softly thanks you. You hesitate for a second before tucking a stray hair that had fallen out of your braid behind your ear, shooting a wink his way.
“Anytime, Mr. Ryder. Let me know if you need anythin’ else.”
He pauses before looking up at you again, eyebrows furrowing.
“How do you—?” He starts, clearing his throat as his eyes travel down your figure.
“I’m a fan of your work.” You shrug, passing it off like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
“I see,” He looks back at the now empty diner, gaze shifting back to you. “Wanna sit for a minute and chat?” His voice holds sincerity and — god, let it be — desire.
You nod and hold a finger up to him. “Just a sec.”
You walk back to the counter, catching Betty at a perfect time. She grins at you as she re-ties her apron around her waist.
You jerk your head back to Ryder. “The guy over there wants to chat for a few. Mind if I take a break?”
“Go ‘head baby. Not like we got a ton ‘a people to serve.” She laughs, and you shoot her a smile.
“Thanks, Betty.”
You untie your apron from your waist and walk back over to his booth. He gestures for you to slide into the side opposite of him, and you clumsily settle into the worn leather bench.
He chews on a piece of bacon before his gaze roams your face, seemingly studying you before he swallows.
“So, what’s the first video you watched?” He asks, and you feel your face burn with a blush. You thought he’d be more subtle, but it’s better to lay the cards on the table you suppose.
“Truthfully, I’ve scrolled all the way to the bottom of your page and have probably watched every single one.” You shrug at your confession, and that pulls a smirk out of him.
“What about your favorite?” His tone is almost challenging, but truthfully, he’s intrigued. Never did he think anyone could recognize him by just his voice.
Joel was careful not to show his face on camera. He wanted to keep himself a mystery—the gruff, sexy voice of a suave cowboy and his perfect body that he shared with the world—a secret.
“It’s probably gonna have to be the one where you’re pretty much just talkin’ the viewer through it and, fuck, this is kinda embarrassing but we’re already here,” You huff, and Joel shakes his head and urges you to continue. “When I watch that video, I’ve kinda timed it to make myself come the same time you do.”
“Not embarrassin’, sugar. That’s the sexiest thing a woman has ever confessed to me.”
“Yeah, well, when you got a voice like yours and a dry spell like mine, it’s the perfect mix for a most blissful—” Joel’s hearty laugh cut you off, and you couldn’t help but admire him from across the table.
He was so fucking handsome and you genuinely couldn’t believe you were seeing the man who’s made you come more times than you can count without even fucking touching you, in person.
“Can I see your notepad and pen real quick, baby?” He asks, gesturing down to your lap. You shuffle the items out of your apron pocket before sliding them across the table, and at the click of the pen, he starts to write something down.
You lick your lips and cross your arms over your torso, lolling your head to the side. He clicks the pen once more before sliding it back over to you with the notepad.
You look down at what he’s written, to see his fake name, phone number and an address.
“Whenever you get off, gimme a call n’ come over if you’d like. No pressure though, sugar.”
Holy fuck.
No way in hell you’re passing up this opportunity, so you shoot a smirk his way and tuck the paper into your apron pocket.
Play. It. Cool.
“I get off in about,” You look down at your watch, twisting your lips to the side. “An hour.”
You try to keep your voice steady, but your heart is thumping in your chest and your desperate, aching cunt.
“Sounds good,” He raps his knuckles on the wooden table before grinning at you, nudging your foot in the slightest before he finishes off his breakfast for lunch. “Just the check, sugar. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I’d rather you pull it than get out of it.” You grin wickedly at the astonished man in front of you, sliding out of the booth.
You walk away to the counter before he can retort and ring the check up for his meal, but before you can bring it back to him, he slaps two twenties on the counter before you.
His thick fingers find their way to your wrist and give it a squeeze as he leans down to you and whispers his next words.
“Hope I can satisfy you in more ways than one, baby. See ya in an hour,” He straightens back up before looking down at the twin Jacksons staring back at the both of you, “Keep the change.”
He walks out without another word, without looking back, and it leaves you nearly winded.
“What was that all about?” Betty asks, sidling up beside you as she gently nudges your ribs.
“Looks like I got a hot date.” You half joke.
“If I was thirty years younger I woulda been all over that too, baby,” A hearty laugh escapes her and she shoots a wink your way. “Have fun tonight.”
-
The hour goes by surprisingly fast and you find yourself almost scurrying to your car after you clock out. You toss your apron into the passenger seat of your car and immediately roll down the windows.
The AC decided to give out on you about a week ago, and of course it was during a time where it was hotter than the devil’s fucking asshole outside.
You groan as you close your eyes, the heat already making you miserable. At least the diner had a good central air system.
You peel your eyes open to fish the paper out of your apron pocket with Ryder’s number and address on it, dialing the numbers scrawled across in blue ink.
After the second ring, his rich voice picked up on the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
“Hey Ryder. ‘M off work now if you still want me to head to your place.”
“Hey sugar. Head on over. There’s a spot in the driveway for ya.”
“See you soon.”
Nerves coursed through your veins as the line went dead. You type in his address into your phone, and to your surprise, he only lived fifteen minutes away.
You threw your car in drive and you were off, the hot air whipping through the cab of your car.
It was truly unlike you to do something so bold like this.
You never went to strangers houses, always ignored when you got hit on at the diner, rejected offers from several men for what would probably be a night full of mediocre sex—and yet, there was something about this man that you couldn’t shake off.
Even with just video evidence of this man’s gruff voice, veiny cock and skillful hands, you could just tell he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing.
It wasn’t long before you pulled up to a quiet neighborhood. His house was on the right hand side, and you pulled up into the driveway next to his black truck.
You took a deep breath before looking at yourself in the mirror of your sun visor before touching up with some lip gloss. You spray your perfume on your pulse points before deciding to stop stalling and finally get out of your car before psyching yourself out.
Your beat up work shoes scuff the concrete path leading up to Ryder’s door, and you swallow thickly before you knock.
Thirty seconds later, a now shirtless Southern gentleman answers the door, hazel eyes catching yours as you stare up at him in awe.
“Well fuck me.” You mutter under your breath as you study his handsome face and his thick, toned torso.
“Tha’s the plan, sugar.” His deep voice shoots straight down to your core, nearly making you audibly moan.
He steps aside to let you into his house, which is surprisingly warm and inviting. It’s cozy with its worn-in furnishings and family photos on the walls. It smells like him too; something earthy and musky and delicious.
He guides you into the living room with his hand on your lower back, touch sending a chill down your spine.
“Make yourself cozy, darlin’. Would y’like anythin’ to drink?”
“Whiskey, neat please. If you have it.” You respond, and he softly smiles at you before nodding and retreating into the kitchen. You can’t help but watch him walk away with the muscles clearly rippling in his back as he walks, all the way down to the back dimples he has.
There’s no fucking way this man is real.
You sigh and settle onto the couch, folding your hands into your lap after setting your purse and keys on the coffee table in front of you.
It’s only a couple of minutes before Ryder reappears before you, handing you a glass of amber liquid. You thank him and sip on it graciously, the smooth taste gliding down your throat and going straight to your already throbbing core.
He sits next to you and slings his arm over the back of the couch, allowing himself to get comfortable as if this occurrence is the most natural thing in the world.
Fuck, maybe it might be for him. You wouldn’t really be surprised considering the charm and suave demeanor he possesses.
“You can relax, darlin’. ‘M not gonna try anythin’ or touch ya without your consent.”
Your shoulders visibly relax at that, not even noticing they were tense to begin with. He didn’t give you bad vibes or scare you. He made you nervous—a feeling you haven’t felt with a man in a very long time.
“So,” You start, voice scratchy from talking so much hours prior and the burn of the whiskey affecting your throat, “You usually bring women home like this?” You’re half teasing and half curious, wanting to see if this really is a regular occurrence for him.
A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and practically vibrates the whole couch. “No, sugar. You’d be the first t’ even recognize me just by my voice. Gotta say, ‘m pretty impressed with that. Guess you’re a regular viewer then, I take it.”
Now he’s the one teasing, but there’s a knowing tone in his voice. You didn’t even have to say it. He knows.
There’s really no point in denying how turned on he gets you, so you just… let it happen.
You feel a little looser with the whiskey swimming in your veins, giving you the bit of courage you mustered up within the past minute or so. You sink into the couch further, spreading your legs enough to keep the man curious.
He watches you wearily, eyes trained on your body and the signals you were emitting.
“You’re the only man that can get me off now. You’ve got me wrapped around those skillful fingers, Mr. Ryder.” Your voice sounds more smooth and sultry than you expected it to, but it was definitely working in your favor.
“These skillful fingers would love to show you a thing or two, baby.” His fingers twitch around the glass he holds tightly; clearly a form of self-restraint.
You didn’t want him to hold back anymore.
“Show me.” You say.
A small groan emits from the back of his throat.
You suck in a breath as your eyes notice his going completely dark, drowning in desire for you. His once bright hazel eyes have since been replaced with something deeper than a simple need to satiate.
It was fucking carnal.
He downs the rest of his drink and licks his lips, patting his jean-clad thigh.
“Sit on my lap. Back against my chest.” He commands, and you try to smoothly maneuver yourself onto him just as he’d asked.
Once you’re settled on top of him, he gently grips onto both of your knees to spread your legs apart so they’re on either side of his thick thighs.
Your lips part and you don’t even notice you’re breathing heavier until you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder.
“Relax, baby. ‘M gonna make you feel good. If you need me to stop, just tap my thigh twice and hard. Got it?”
“Yes.” You whisper, nearly shaking in anticipation.
“Good.”
And his hands are grazing up your legs to the inner part of your thighs, delicately tracing your skin. Goosebumps raise at his featherlight touch, and before you know it, he’s spreading his own legs wider to spread yours.
You were aching and damp even back at the diner as you sat with him in the booth, studying his handsome features. The cool air of the home hits the dampness on the cotton panties you wore.
Ryder’s fingers made their way up to the lace trim of your panties, causing you to softly whimper for him. You genuinely didn’t think you needed anyone to touch you so fucking bad in your life.
You didn’t want to come off whiny and absolutely desperate, so you kept your pathetic begging to yourself.
“So wet already, pretty girl. This all for me?”
You can’t muster up the words because your brain is simply mush at this point, and all you want is his fingers on you, and fuck, in you.
“You know I respect you, right baby?”
Respect you?
You’ve only known this man—physically—for a few hours, albeit knowing his voice and his body long before he’d even tell you his real name.
And yet, there’s a comfort in his presence. One that would have you willing to do nearly anything for him—with him.
And all you could do was meekly nod your head at his words, his Southern twang dripping in honey—buzzing into your veins.
You turn your head to look at him with a bewildered expression on your face, though, wondering why he’d ask such a thing.
He shoots you a devilish smile.
“Good, ‘cuz for the next few minutes it’s gonna look like I don’t.”
“Oh, fuck.” You mewl, tossing your head back onto his shoulder. He noses at your jaw, littering kisses and small nips all along your jawline and neck as he slides your panties to the side.
He slides his middle finger through your slick slit, moving up to circle your already sensitive clit. You shudder at the touch, clamping your eyes shut as you softly moan.
“Fuck baby, you’re drippin’ already. This what I do to ya? You get this wet when you’re by yourself and you’re bein’ a dirty fuckin’ girl gettin’ yourself off to my videos? Hm?”
His deep voice vibrates through your body, finger traveling down to your entrance. He teases you as he slips the tip of his finger into you—nothing more—and moves it back out.
He continues this a few times, and when you don’t answer him, he slaps your dripping cunt lightly. You gasp and grip onto his forearm that was wrapped around your torso.
“Answer me.”
“God, yes, I–I fuckin’ love your videos. You always get me this wet. Every time. You’re just so—fuck—goddamn hot.”
He chuckles at your blabbering. “Hot, huh? You think that highly of me?”
“Ryder,” You moan as he fully sinks his middle finger into you. He stops his movements and it takes everything in you not to rock your hips.
“Joel.”
“W-what?”
“I want you moaning my real name, baby.”
Joel.
Joel.
That name is somehow very fitting for him, and lucky for you, it rolls off the tongue easily.
“Joel.” You test it, and his grip on you tightens.
“Atta girl.” He praises, sinking a second finger into you. You moan at the feeling, long fingers hitting spots yours never could. He curls his fingers to hit that exact spot and you cry out in pleasure.
You can feel Joel’s cocky smirk on his lips as he kisses your braided hair, likely in a complete disarray at this point.
The squelching noise that reverberated throughout his living room was truly obscene, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, it seemed to spur him on as he twisted his wrist and worked his fingers faster, pressing into that spot inside of you that had you choking on your own moans.
Without warning, you felt yourself nearly at the brink of your orgasm—and Joel pulls his fingers out of you. You cry in desperation, the beautiful build up completely dissipated.
“Not. Yet.” Joel’s mouth was next to your ear, nibbling at your lobe as he worked you through the edging.
He didn’t stop after that, though. He kept the momentum going, sliding his other hand from your torso down to your swollen clit. He slowly starts to rub small circles onto the already overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out a strangled moan as the feeling surges through your body.
“Now.” He says.
Your mind was going blank at this point and a pressure kept building and building and building—until you felt a huge gush, forceful and draining. Your eyes snap open to see clear liquid dripping all down the couch.
“Fuck, Joel I’m sor—”
“Don’t you dare apologize baby. You ever done that before?” He asks, and you shake your head no. He moans at your wordless response and readjusts himself beneath you, and you can suddenly feel how hard he is in his jeans.
Even through the denim he felt fucking big, and you knew you were in for it.
“Let me,” You start, shakily sliding off of his lap and onto the floor. “Let me take care of you.”
Joel watches you and the same muscle in his jaw ticks furiously. He nods without another word as you lean up to kiss the hot skin above his jeans, trailing your lips down to the hemline. You undo the button and zipper swiftly, and he lifts his hips to pull his pants and boxers down to his mid thigh.
Your hunch was correct: he’s fucking huge. You swallow as you take in the sight of his cock in-person rather than over a screen, and it was even better than you’d imagined all those times.
You gently grab the base of his silky flesh, giving it a soft squeeze as you move your hand to the tip. Your eyes flicker up to his, and he’s watching you intently. You smile sweetly up at him before bringing your head down to lick the pre come from his slit, moaning as you get a taste of the salty musk.
Joel’s hand flies to your head, threading his fingers through the loose braid as you slowly lick your way down the vein on the underside of his cock.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” You say, and he groans at your praise. “Even better than I imagined.”
You bring your tongue back up to the tip and take him in your mouth this time, going as far down as you could before you gagged softly.
“Fuck yeah baby, just like that. Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me,” He mewls as you set a faster pace, one of your hands coming to pump the rest of his cock you couldn’t reach with your mouth, the other gently fondling his balls.
You moan around him as his silky flesh easily glides onto your tongue. You enjoy getting him off like this; unraveling him inch by inch just as he’s done to you many times before.
He began to rock his hips up into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try your damndest to not forcefully gag around him.
“Mouth feels so goddamn good on me, honey. ‘M not gonna last much longer.” Joel confesses, and your tighten your lips around his cock to silently urge him to let go.
It was only another minute until his hips completely stilled and his pulsing cock was drained, salty spend coating your mouth in haste.
He groans loudly as he reaches down to cradle your jaw, slowly sliding your mouth off of him. You swallow his spend and sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently.
“On your knees, baby. Ass up.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch, and you happily oblige. He pulls the skirt of your uniform up over your hips and slides your wet panties down your legs so you’re on full display for him.
You feel his hands slide over the globe of your ass, spreading you apart to get a good look at all of you. You suck in a breath for a second before you feel his fingers slide through your slick folds once more, teasing you so.
“You ever had a man touch you back here? Pretty little thing.” He asks as his thumb circles the tight ring of your ass.
“No.” You moan, closing your eyes as you press a cheek to the couch cushion.
“Hm. ‘S a shame. Feels real good.”
“Please, Joel.” You truly weren’t above begging for this man to touch you in any way possible.
“Please what, sugar?”
“Please—please touch me. Make me feel good. Even better than I already feel.”
You turn your head more to lock eyes with him staring down at you with a look of determination and hunger.
He keeps his eyes locked on you as he grabs his half-hard cock, reaching to the coffee table beside you both to grab the foil packet you didn’t even see until this very moment.
He rips it open and slides it on before sliding his cock through your slick folds. You sigh in pleasure as your eyes flutter shut for a brief second before you open them again as his tip notches your entrance.
“You ready baby?”
You nod your head, but he shakes his.
“Need your words this time darlin’.”
“Yes Joel. Please.”
He sinks into you slowly, his girth stretching you out so deliciously. It stung a little, because in truth, you’ve never been with anyone his size.
Once he’s fully sheathed into you, he shoots you that same wicked grin before letting spit slowly dribble out of his mouth and onto your asshole.
“Oh fuck me,” You whisper, moaning as his thumb circles the tight ring once again. “Please.” You say, and he hooks his thumb gently into you.
You feel so full like this, barely even able to comprehend the fact that you’re about to get fucked by your favorite adult content creator.
Joel starts to rock his hips slowly at first, moaning at how tight you are. He picks up his pace once you’re both comfortable and it feels like he’s punching your fucking gut.
It’s almost unbearable— but the pleasure outweighs the pain by a mile. He’s rocking his hips so hard that the couch starts to scrape onto the floor, nothing but skin slapping on skin. You feel a sting on your left asscheek and moan at the contact, realizing Joel had slapped you.
He does it again, and again, and again, until tears are in your eyes and you can no longer bear the sting.
“Pussy feels so fuckin’ good baby. Was meant to take this cock, hm?” He says through gritted teeth, and you can’t help but agree with him.
His hand slides up your back and reaches your hair, pulling it so your head tilts upward.
“So fuckin’ pretty like this. Love the way you feel around me.” He confesses, taking his thumb out of your tight muscle before wrapping his other arm around your torso once, only to pull you upright this time.
He’s pistoning into you as you lean back onto his body. His hand wraps gently around your throat as he scatters more kisses onto your jawline and up your earlobe.
“Can I?” He asks, and you choke out a meek yes.
His large hand wraps all the way around your throat, squeezing the sides. Joel turns his head down to look at you, all helpless as he fucks you relentlessly.
Your jaw hangs open and your eyes are squeezed shut, relishing in the all-consuming feeling of Joel.
Joel, Joel, Joel.
You open your eyes as you plead his name, feeling another orgasm burning within you.
He moves his fingers up from your throat to grab at your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he spits into it.
“Swallow.” He commands, and you don’t question him one bit.
He likes seeing you like this—submissive and practically breedable—and yet, he barely knew you. He knew he wanted that to change after this, though.
“Joel I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hoarse and desperate, trying so hard to keep the feeling of pleasure at bay.
It was no use, though. The way he was looking at you made you want to fucking risk it all, and when he finally bent his face down to kiss you, you knew it was a wrap.
You both moaned into each other’s mouths as your tongues tangled together, tasting each other and exploring one another.
It wasn’t long before the coil finally snapped for you, and seconds later, him as well. You both panted heavily as you were submerged in the post-coital bliss.
“You did so good, baby. Hopefully I lived up to your expectations.”
You huff a laugh at his words as he pulls out of you and shuffles himself down onto the couch, pulling you on top of him. He kisses the top of your head as he plays with your hair, a strange feeling blooming in his chest as you both enjoy the presence of one another.
One thing’s for sure and two things for certain:
You’re everything he’s wanted, and he didn’t even know how to tell you. There was no way he was letting you go now.
-
tags: @endlessthxxghts @punkshort @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @party-hearses
@joelsgreys @ozarkthedog
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Period Comfort
Prompt: How the boys act when their S/O is on their period. [Requested by @weebumochi]
Featuring: TF141 and Los Vaqueros - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, and Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: reader menstruates, but no mention of genitalia; menstruation discomfort; nothing else i can think of, but lemme know if there's more
John Price
Always gets you water and a fresh cup of tea once your cups looks a little low.
Finds out what meals are best for someone on their period and focuses on making those for the week.
You two would make food with beef, eggs, and fish (if you eat them); spinach, squash, and brussel sprouts. All the nutritious stuff.
And then he would make treats for you, especially dark chocolate on almonds or walnuts. Bring you bananas, berries, figs. You felt like ancient Mesopotamian royalty. All things that were also good for you, but were more traditional period comfort food of “sweet”.
If you really needed to eat half a family sized bag of barbeque potato chips, he would fetch them and put them in a bowl for you. No questions asked. No movement in the eyebrows. A loving smile as he asks what movie you two were going to watch.
But for dinner, he’s making something without so much… sodium.
Does everything he can to make your period easier on you.
Simon Riley
Doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re on your period, but that shit is on the calendar. Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s all “oh is it that time of the month?”. So he pretends nothing is different.
He’s always so sweet to you, but he’s especially so when you’re on your period.
There are absolutely no gibes or pokes at the tender part of your heart. And whenever you’re most hormonal (which is also on the calendar), he might not tease you at all. Because one time he was a little snarky with you, and normally it would roll right off, but you were just a teensy bit too hormonal. And you got quiet. And your lip quivered. And he didn’t stop apologizing the whole day.
Any shows or movies he normally sighs about (but still sits down and watches… and gets invested in, the lying shit), there is no fussing.
“Alright, lovie, sounds good. Do you want another cuppa while I’m up?”
Need some quiet time by yourself? He has some errands to run, let him know what you want for dinner.
Just does his best to make sure you never feel crazy when you’re on your period.
Kyle Garrick
When the worst of your period comes in, it becomes the typical night in.
The dumbest movies that you two love. Dessert eaten before dinner. Favorite takeout and all the accoutrement available. A glass of wine or some other treat beverage. Matching pajama sets.
Kyle had almost fallen asleep when you massaged a yummy-smelling hair mask into his scalp, and then pulled a ‘oh I was just resting my eyes’. And then he returned the favor, painting a luxurious facial mask on you. Making hearts on your cheeks, then spreading them out. You were fairly sure he drew boobs on your forehead, but then smeared it out and insisted you were just imagining it.
You give each other manicures, and hand feed the other food whilst their nails dried. Kissing chocolate and strawberries off each others lips and chins.
Once his hair was wrapped up, he’s all snuggled up in your arms. The heat and weight of his body against your abdomen was soothing. And the gentle snoring of the love of your life.
Everything he can to make you feel comfortable and attractive in your own skin.
Johnny MacTavish
He gets up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run (like a fucking psycho). Once you wake up, he wants to go to the gym with you. Whether or not you work out, or just poke his butt because it’s funny, he wants you there. But not today. Your cramps, or just the general yuckiness of menstruating, makes you want to not leave the house.
So he hops on the internet, and finds the workouts, stretches, and yoga poses that would help you feel better.
The most gentle workout he’s had in his life. Stretching with the speed of tai chi, leaning against your back and chatting quietly.
Kisses wherever he can reach as you two figure out the yoga poses. Sticks his ass out as far as he can so you’ll poke it. Whistles whenever you begin a pose that’s even marginally suggestive. Waggles his eyebrows and maybe even cops a feel.
Double checks that you aren’t overexerting yourself. Stops for water (and kiss) breaks and asks how you’re feeling. What’s helping, what’s not helping? Time to stop, or keep going?
Helping with the physical and visceral symptoms so you’re more comfortable.
Alejandro Vargas
If he can, he’s clearing the schedule for the worst day of the week. Does grocery shopping and laundry before, so there is essentially nothing to do that day when Mother Nature is curb-stomping you.
Spoils you with a long lie-in. The sun has long since come up by the time you wake up to massages and kisses.
You join him for breakfast and a quick rinse off shower, and then you two crawl right back into bed. Leaning against him as he kneads the skin and muscles of your abdomen or back, a movie or the radio as ambient noise.
Maybe you fall back asleep. Maybe you watch an entire TV show. Maybe you putter about and do some light home-making. The goal is that you are fully rested.
I bet science says that you can’t “catch up on sleep”, but it’s still nice to have a day where you sleep for most of it. Especially when it’s curled up in bed with your sweet lover. His hands on you for the entire day, closely followed by his lips.
His whole body squeezing you tight when you try to leave, and wrapping around you again once you return.
Just physically reminding you of how much he loves you.
Rodolfo Parra
Once he sees a menstrual product wrapper in the bathroom trash can, he’s off to make the most professional grocery run you’ve ever seen.
Knows exactly which products you use, and checks which are low. Buys the right medications or products. The snacks that you love (that won’t betray you later with a stomach ache), and the little drink treat that’s for special occasions.
You swear that he hears the crinkle of a wrapper in the bathroom and marches to the store.
Puts the groceries away while you’re finishing up the breakfast dishes and then offers you the little beverage and maybe a treat.
He guides you to the couch or back to bed, sidling up next to or behind you and kisses you deeply. Arms roaming and then settling in a way that keeps you as close as possible. Pressing against you as if you could become one.
Cuddles in the way that is most comfortable, whether you’re in his lap or laying down. Kisses you all over. Hand feeds you until you’re giggling too hard.
He never wants you to run out of the supplies you need, or feel any less sexy while menstruating. Because you are always so sexy to him.
Posted: 2024 January 7
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