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strang3lov3 · 3 months

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Chevelle

Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)

Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.

A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.

Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.

Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷

It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel.

Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.

Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day.

You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple. You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.

You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something.

You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy.

You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.

The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand.

“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you.

You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.

You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.

In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic.

When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.

What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable.

The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”

“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”

“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”

Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you.

You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.

“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”

“Mm,” you hum.

“Hit and run, can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”

“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.”

Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”

Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”

“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”

“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake.

Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.”

The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”

“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.”

The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”

You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”

Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear, “S’okay, sweet girl.”

“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”

“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”

Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles.

He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”

“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft.

Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you.

You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”

You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.

“Is that it?”

“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”

His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says. “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”

Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.”

You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste.

“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.

Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to.

He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”

You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.

What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.” Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs.

“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view.

Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.

He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”

The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try.

You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you.

“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”

Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”

His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips.

“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment.

“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt.

Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.

From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt.

“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”

You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold.

“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”

You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”

It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”

Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”

You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.

“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.

He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure. You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure.

Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on.

You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg.

“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”

Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.

Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend.

His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.

With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man.

Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”

“You want me…”

“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.

He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3

From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel tlou #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x virgin reader

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lqvesoph · 3 months

Text

She‘s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4

gif by @formulaonedirection

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: After releasing your new album you go to the Bahrain Grand Prix to finally see your two favorite Aussie’s. What you didn’t expect is to meet a certain Brit as well.

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

masterlist | taglist

Part 1

yn.adams: Thank you for all the love on GUTS!!! Tour is coming I promissssse but now off to Bahrain🏁

comments:

gracieabrams: YOURE UNREAL

rachelzegler: all american t*ts frr

danielricciardo: Okay who am I fighting today🥊

oscarpiastri: See u in Bahrain (finally)

> yn.adams: FINALLY!!!

> oscarpiastri: You‘ve become busy since becoming a world star🥲

fan: SHES COMING TO BAHRAIN!!!

> fan: FINALLY!! Its been ages

fan: Has she ever been to a race??

> fan: Well… I mean obviously LMAO😭

fan: U supporting Red Bull or Mclaren this weekend?

> yn.adams: Rbr obviously!! Not even Oscar can get me into that orange Garage🤨

> oscarpiastri: It’s PAPAYA!!!

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*~*~*~*~*~*

"GOOD MORNING!!!", an australian accent yelled into your ear just moments after you entered the Bahrain paddock.

You flinched, immediately slapping the person’s arm. "Daniel!!!", you called and pushed the driver away from you as he tried to pull you into a hug.

"I‘ve missed you so much", he mumbled, pressing you close to him and ruffling your hair after, which made you slap his hand away from your head.

"You seen Osc yet?“, you asked, looking around you, spotting a few photographers whose camera’s where direct to you. Daniel shook his head. "Nope, I thought you‘d come together. I‘m surprised you’re only here now."

You rolled your eyes and kept walking with Daniel. "I was on a video call with my team, discussing the upcoming tour. We gotta work out a schedule and call the venues and stuff", you replied. "We‘ve been on there even before the album came out and I still haven’t completely made up my mind."

"Indecisive little shit", Daniel laughed, making you slap his arm with a chuckle. You made your way to the Red Bull hospitality, Daniel waving at a few people from Mclaren that he was still friends with even after he left the team at the end of the 2022 season.

"I think Kelly and P are in there", he told you before hugging you goodbye. "If you see Oscar, tell him I‘m looking for him", you said, smiling and ruffling through Daniel‘s hair as some sorta revenge, before quickly stepping back and running up the stairs to the entrance.

Daniel laughed and pointed a finger at you. "I‘m gonna get you back!" You giggled and waved as you walked backwards into the hospitality.

Looking around the room you quickly spotted Kelly with her daughter Penelope sitting on a creme coloured couch.

"Heyy, honey", she greeted you and got up to hug you. "Hey, darling", you then said and lifted Penelope up who was reaching her arms out to you.

Just when you sat down, your phone chimed with a new message.

Osc🧡: Meet me in front of Mclaren

You: I‘m not going in tho

Osc🧡: Well I can’t really walk into Red Bull can I?

You: 🙄okay

"I‘ll be back soon, Oscar just texted", you let Kelly know and high fived P who giggled as you did. Jeez, how much you missed that little sunshine!

You glanced around the front porch of Mclaren‘s hospitality but didn’t spot Oscar. And as you didn’t just want to walk into the building you stayed where you were, next to the steps leading up to the entrance.

"You walked in with Danny, right?", someone spoke behind you, making you turn around. The confused expression on your face quickly leaving when you came face to face with the other Mclaren driver.

He sat at one of the tables with another curly haired guy and a blonde girl.

You nodded. "Yeah", you simply said. "You wanna come up here?", he asked, gesturing to the empty chair next to him.

You‘ve never spoken to Lando Norris, all you knew about him was through stories from either Oscar or Daniel. You knew that he spent some of his winterbreak with Danny and Martin in Australia. Daniel had asked you to come along as well but you were busy with the release of your new album so you had to decline.

You looked around you one last time, trying to find Oscar but failed, so you nodded and took the few stairs up to the table the three of them were sitting at.

As you stood directly in front of them, you saw how the blonde girl recognized you. You‘ve always been good at reading people but over the last years you‘ve become incredibly good at telling whether people recognized you when facing them. Even if they try their hardest to hide it, that small second when their eyes widen in realization was enough for you to tell.

"I‘m Lando", he introduced himself, holding a hand out to greet you. "Y/n, nice to meet you", you smiled, trying to ignore the urge to tell him 'I know, I‘m friends with Daniel and Oscar'. "Max and Pietra, friends of me", he then gestured over to the people sitting across from you.

"So, how do you know Daniel?", Lando asked, crossing his arms on the table. "I‘ve known him since I was 8 years old, I think", you smiled, remembering tiny 8 year old you giggling and blushing when first talking to Daniel at the British Grand Prix. "Really?", his eyes widened. "How did you meet?" "Uh, through my dad, he‘s from Australia as well", you answered, leaving out most of the details.

"You‘re australian?", Lando questioned with raised eyesbrows. "No no, my dad is. My mom‘s from America and I kinda grew up between California and Canberra", you explained.

"However, for some reason she likes to ignore her australian origin", a voice said behind you, making you smirk as you recognized the familiar Melbourne accent.

You turned around in your chair and stood up before wrapping your arms around Oscar. "Hey, princess", he laughed. "How‘ve you been?"

"Bit stressful with Tour at the minute but it feels so good to be back here!", you grinned.

As you turned back to the other three, you couldn’t help but notice Lando‘s confused face. Maybe it was the fact you basically jumped Oscar or that he‘d called you 'princess', something he‘s been doing ever since your first Tour when you got gifted a little crown from your fans because it matched the dress you were wearing on stage.

"I se you‘ve made friends already, might wanna stay here for the race?", Oscar asked with a smirk. You slapped the back of his head in an affectionate way. "Nuh uh, nice try, Piastri", you chuckled. "I‘ll be watching from Red Bull, you know that."

The confused expression on Lando‘s face only seemed to deepen with everything you said so you gave him a quick explanation. "My father used to work at Red Bull, so it‘s the team I‘ve grown up with and I‘m not leaving that."

Oscar snorted at you little white lie but you rammed your elbow into his side to get him to keep quiet.

Lando nodded, still slightly confused by the way you and Oscar acted with each other but before he could question it, a team member walked out of the door and told the two drivers to start getting ready for the race.

"I‘ll see you later, okay? You‘re driving back with Daniel?", your best friend asked. "I haven’t talked to him about it but-" "Okay, then I‘m taking you back to the hotel", he interrupted you with a grin.

"Jeez, splitting my time with you two like you‘re my parents", you laughed but agreed and hugged the driver goodbye.

"Bye, bye!", you waved to Lando, Max and Pietra before walking back over to Red Bull.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After the race and all the podium celebrations, you waited in front of the Mclaren hospitality for Oscar, scrolling mindlessly on your Twitter while ignoring the 22 unread messages from your management.

"Hey, Y/n", a voice said behind you, making you look up from your phone. "Lando, hi. Congrats on your race", you smiled. "Thanks, could’ve been better but we‘ll try again next week", he shrugged.

"Jeddah, right?", you asked, not having memorized the calendar quite yet. The driver nodded and played around with the orange lanyard in his hands.

"You coming?", he dared to ask after a few seconds and from the way his fingers fiddled with the orange band faster, you could tell how nervous he was. You shrugged. "I don’t know yet, I’m quite busy with work at the minute, so probably no. But I‘ll definitely be in Melbourne", you replied, trying to lighten the mood by adding the last sentence.

"Pietra told me you’re a singer", he revealed, making you smile at the memory of the blonde girl. "I could tell she recognized me", you admitted. Lando chuckled. "She said she tried her hardest to not let it show but was freaking out on the inside! She‘s actually quite mad at herself for not asking you for a picture!"

You giggled again and shook your head. "She could’ve asked, I wouldn’t have minded", you said with a small smile. "If she’s at a Grand Prix just let me know and I promise I‘ll find her." "I‘ll let her know", he nodded and looked to the ground with the cutest smile you have seen in a while.

The combination of the brunette curly hair, the british accent, the smile and his dimples, drove you crazy and made you heart skip a few beats. But you tried your best to keep it together.

Little did you know that Lando quite literally felt the same about you. Your long hair, along with the color of your eyes and especially your smile made his heart beat a little faster as well.

You stayed in silence for a few seconds, just looking at each other admiringly before a voice interrupted your starring.

"Princess!! Sorry for being late!", Oscar called while walking out of the hospitality with Lily‘s hand in his. You smiled at the sight of your best friend’s girlfriend and send her a little wave which she returned with the hand that wasn’t wrapped in Oscar‘s.

"That‘s okay, I had Lando to keep me company", you chuckled, making the brit smile a little. "You ready?", Oscar asked and you nodded.

He said goodbye to Lando and started walking down the stairs.

"I’ll see you in Australia?", Lando asked one last time. You nodded your head with a smile. "Oh for sure, I wouldn’t miss this race for the world!", you chuckled. "Great!", Lando whispered under his breath and gave you a little wave which you returned before following Oscar and Lily.

"What do you think of him?", Oscar asked as soon as Lando was out of hearing range. "Lando? He’s pretty cute", you simply stated, not daring to mention the other words floating around your head. Nice, pretty, gorgeous, hot and handsome were just a few examples.

"Why do you ask?"

Oscar smirked. "No reason, really!"

tagged: redbullracing, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri

yn.adams: bahrain dump (feat. my two favorite aussies)

comments:

oscarpiastri: You‘re an aussie as well…

> yn.adams: But I‘m not tho…🤷‍♀️

> oscarpiastri: Y/n🤨

danielricciardo: I‘m shown before Oscar

> yn.adams: rolling my eyes as we speak

> fan: LMAOOO

fan: Am I seeing you in the Mclaren garage?

> yn.adams: JUST FOR A SECOND!!!

fan: The race weekend is better when ur there

liked by yn.adams

fan: How does she know Oscar and Daniel??

> fan: Through her dad obviously

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ghoulphile · 2 months

Text

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears.

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood.

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog.

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

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sillysillygoofygoose · 11 months

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Older! Boyfriend Toji Headcanons

MDNI! (Slightly) EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD!

Soft headcanons:

Older! Toji, who adores the huge size difference between the two of you. He loves how you tilt your head back to look at him or stand on your tippy toes, pushing on his shoulders, just to kiss his cheek.

Older! Toji, who has a ton of money (shout out to broke ass Toji, though 😔). You have no idea what he does for a living. You're pretty sure it isn't something totally legal, like accounting, but whatever. He doesn't mention it and you don't ask. His favorite thing to do is turn you spoiled rotten. He constantly takes you on shopping trips, although his attitude is astronomical, only letting himself smirk when you thank him for buying you a cute little sundress.

"That one's real cute, baby."

"Yeah, bub, that color is really nice."

"Just buy 'em both, I'll take you somewhere nice to show them off."

He can barley constrain himself from pinning you against the dressing room wall and pushing the faint yellow fabric of the dress away from your skin, tasting you through your little lace panties.

Older! Toji whose love language is quality time and physical touch. No matter what he's doing, he needs to have you next to him. He never thought he'd fall so hard for someone, yet here we are...

"Toji, baby please, I'm trying to cook dinner." Toji only tightens his grip around your waist.

"I know, pretty. Just want to feel you." He responded, hooking his chin over your shoulder, peering at the vegetable you were currently mutilating.

"That's definitely not how you cut garlic." You feel him turn his head, smirking into your neck.

"Shut up."

Older! Toji, who would never, EVER let you drive him anywhere. You're forever stuck as a passenger princess. Hell would have to freeze over before Toji would let you be responsible for transporting him somewhere. This includes the time he accidentally shot himself in the upper thigh (long story 🙄) and REFUSED to let you drive to the hospital. You belong in the passenger seat, and his big hand belongs rested on your thigh, gently squeezing the squishy flesh from time to time.

Older! Toji, who pays for your bi-weekly manicures.

"What about these?" You tilt your phone screen towards him, showing him the set of acrylics you saved to your pinterest board earlier that week.

"Hmm, very nice." He flashed you a small smile of approval before grabbing your hand, kissing each knuckle.

They'd look so small and delicate wrapped around his dick.

Older! Toji whose most embarrassing secret is his love-hate relationship with the Kardashians. At first it was baffling... he doesn't even look like he'd know who they are. However, this man is INVESTED. You heard it here first. He lives for the pettiness of it all.

"What the fuck is Khloé's problem now?"

Toji strolls into the living room where you're perched on the couch, eyes glued to the new episode of 'The Kardashians'. He huffs, plopping down next to you.

"She always acts like she's some mediator for Kim and Kourtney, but she's an instigator. Always whining and complaining about something." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You laugh, humming in agreement.

His favorite thing to rag on them about is their baby names.

"North West? That's a fucking direction."

Older! Toji, who holds you at night. Feeling your chest rise and fall rhythmically with his is the most comforting feeling in the world. He never falls asleep before you, finding peace only when you've found yours. He only becomes sappy after midnight, the loneliness of a quiet bedroom forcing him to face his emotions. Once he's positive you're passed out for the night, he moves his hand from your upper back to your head, gently stroking back stray strands of hair that were previously covering your precious face.

"You looked so beautiful today. I need to tell you that more." He whispered.

"I'm so lucky to have such a sweet girl all to myself."

"I love you so much. More than anything."

Older! Toji, who sees you as his entire world. Scratch that, his entire universe.

Hope you enjoyed! xoxo

#fem reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #jjk x reader #jjk #Spotify #size difference #age difference

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javierpena-inatacvest · 11 months

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It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Spin-Off Series:

Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Oh, Baby

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

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confietti · 6 months

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pt. 2 of Emo!choso

EMO!CHOSO who caressed your face while whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you cried into his chest because of your cramps. :(

EMO!CHOSO who was awfully confused the first time you sent him out to buy pads for you.

cho<3: baby whats ur pussy size? princess💝💝: what? princess💝💝: choso answer the phone. 🤦🏾‍♀️

EMO!CHOSO who your lash tech hates because he loves to cum on your face the same day she does your lashes. (he'll always pay for them, though.❤️)

EMO!CHOSO who you can never watch movies with because not even halfway through one you feel a hand slip down your underwear, causing you to look up only to be met with his shit-eating grin.

EMO!CHOSO who doesn't talk much but does silly things to you when he's bored. Randomly biting your shoulder, nudging your head with his nose, etc.

EMO!CHOSO whose idea of a good 'date night' is making out for hours and hours to his favorite songs.

EMO!CHOSO who loves to pull you into heated makeout sessions in public that leave you flustered and horny for the rest of the day.

EMO!CHOSO who will randomly smother his face into your ass while you're on your phone and you don't mind one bit.

EMO!CHOSO who has no problem paying for your hair products, braids, wigs, nails, lashes, etc. because he knows how expensive these things can be and refuses to not put at least some money towards getting them for you.

EMO!CHOSO who your parents still hate but have learned to tolerate because they've come to realize that he wasn't going anywhere.

EMO!CHOSO who took you too an art gallery as your 'official first date'. but instead of focusing on the art like you were, he was more captivated by you.. long story short, you ended up fucking in the bathroom by the end of the 'date.'

Bonus: Your loud moans bounced off the 4 walls of the men's restroom as choso pounded in you mercilessly. Your pretty dark red dress hiked up past your waist as drool dripped on your now exposed breasts. "You're doin' great sweets.. cum f'me, yeah?" his sadistic smile in the mirror was the last thing you saw before your vision blurred and you saw stars. that was the best 'official first date' you've ever had.

a/n: tysm for the support on pt.1 !!

#jujutsu kaisen #≡; ꒰ ° val's works ꒱#choso kamo #kamo choso #jjk choso #black reader #original character #choso x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #choso smut #choso my beloved #choso

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mylovelo-ak · 19 days

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boyfriend!aventurine

boyfriend!aventurine who send you clips of cute animals because he knows you love to spend hours in a day watching them.

boyfriend!aventurine who has a collection of fragrances he’s trialed and selected to make sure they’re bottles of the one you like. his collection catches your attention, and he decides you take you shopping to make your own.

boyfriend!aventurine who pulls out the chair for you and pushes it back for you to sit. he takes your bag for you and sets it where its safe. he waits ‘til he sees you happily eating before starting on his own plate.

boyfriend!aventurine who finds all your stories interesting. whether it be recollections of your past, or gossip you heard around the ipc. he listens with an expression on his face one can only describe as a look of adoration.

boyfriend!aventurine who sends random updates throughout the day. “i’m taking a fat shit.” the notification of his text pops up on your screen while you were in an important meeting, earning you some rude gazes as you burst out in giggles upon reading it.

boyfriend!aventurine who eats anything with you so you don’t feel alone, even if it is something he doesn’t particularly like. you’ll have to make sure to use the toilet before he does though, he’d take up hours on it.

boyfriend!aventurine who styles himself neatly so he’d look handsome for you. although you think he’s handsome in whatever anyway. he snaps pictures of his outfits, or his hairstyles, before sending them to you. he swoons when you compliment him.

boyfriend!aventurine whose favorite date/pastime is napping with you, no matter the time of day. date nights are fun and all, but nothing will compare to the feeling of laying beside you and sleeping soundly, free of all the nightmares of his past.

i want him.

#hsr x you #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai sr #honkai x reader

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yandere-writer-momo · 2 months

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Yandere Short Stories:

A Confession to Make

Yandere Florist (Callum) x Fem Reader

Blood red flowers laid out in a maple wood work desk, their boood red petal reminiscent of Callum’s past as a hit man. The florist hummed as he carefully cut each stem and trimmed the leaves of each flower to arrange a bouquet for his favorite customer… he wondered if (your name) understood the meaning behind these vibrant flowers and how they were a loud declaration of his love for her.

Callum sighed dreamily while he organized each chrysanthemum with white wax flowers, eucalyptus, thistle, and red hypericum berries. He truly wanted to put a lot of thought into each flower in this bouquet in hopes that his feelings finally went through to his beloved m’eudail.

Callum had been after (your name) the moment she enter his shop all those months ago. To him, she was dainty and perfect… a true lady who had easily captivated him with her shy smile and innocent eyes. Callum wanted her in ways he’d never wanted anyone else before… it was nearly carnal from how badly he wanted to bend her over and stuff her fat with his kids- woah. He had just gotten a bit to in over his head there for a moment…

The melodic dingle of the front door bell broke him from his musings. The red head quickly peaked his head out from his workroom to spot (your name) in the doorway.

“Good morning, Callum!” (Your name) giggled at the scarred man whose cheeks flushed red. “I saw that you have some new flowers in stock.”

“Give me one moment and I’ll tell you what each one is!” Callum chuckled, his green eyes scanned over her small frame in awe. (Your name) was always so cute!

Callum finished the last few touches to his lovely bouquet with a smile. The bouquet would no doubt swallow (your name), but he couldn’t help the excitement that seeped into his love stricken heart.

“Hey, I put something together for you.” Callum hid the bouquet behind his back as he smiled warmly at (your name). The young woman perked up once she spotted the bouquet. A bashful smile now on her face when Callum gently placed the red bouquet in her hands.

“You made me a bouquet?” (Your name) admired each flower in awe. It appeared Callum put a lot of thought and care into each piece of this arrangement. “It’s so beautiful… the red kind of reminds me of your hair.”

Callum chuckled before he bit his lip. It seemed (your name) didn’t understand the romantic language of flowers… but that was okay! He was willing to outright admit his interest in her!

“Well, these are much more than flowers…” Callum towered over (your name) as he pointed to each flower. “Red chrysanthemums for passion and love, wax flowers for a wish of lasting success, red hypericum berries, thistle, and eucalyptus for protection.”

(Your name) blushed when Callum grabbed her hands, the bouquet the only item in the way of the two of them from hugging.

“In other words, I’m confessing to you.” Callum whispered softly, his green eyes filled with adoration. “So what do you say? Would you be mine, m’eudail?”

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qtboni · 10 months

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Hello, I hope you are having a great day.

I haven't been able to get Slasher König and his reading wife out of my head for days. It's a scenario where he comes home from killing someone and asks his wife if she's proud of him, to which she says yes and some HUGE obscenity ensues.

Also if you can include something like the reader is madly obsessed with how strong König is (especially his arms) and how tall he is.

Thanks 🙇‍♀️.

A/N: hello!! this rlly took me so long to write but i hope you don't mind i made this into hcs >< can u guys tell that this is inspired by brahms from the boy 2016 😇😇

╰﹒ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 !

PAIRING: Yandere Slasher!König X Reader

C/W: MDNI. yandere vibes + mild nsfw, love obsession, gore, mentions of blood bcz m*rder, sprinkle of dubcon, manhandling, name-calling, groping, itty bitty size kink, perverted thoughts.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who marched back home to you with his hood and clothes drenched in blood, each droplet of the crimson liquid staining the pavement. The blood plopping down on the ground didn't reach his ears, nor could he smell the sweet metallic scent it gave off.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who usually has his expression blank, as it always was when he returned from a kill, had something off about it. His mouth curled into a smile and his gaze was as narrow and chilling as a predator's. God was he so glad that he got rid of that pest once and for all.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who couldn't help but to fidget everytime with the knife in his hands whenever you tell him the stories about that dumb fuck who gets into your nerves. What? He was itching to just sink his knife into that petty excuse of a human, and it was unbearable.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG whose lips slowly curved into a sinister grin as he remembered how much that dumb fuck begs for their life, to be spared. As if he would be nice, after what they've done to you. He enjoyed and relished in the sounds of their groans and cries of pain as he twisted the knife plunged inside of their chest.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who cuts their skin more as he remarked about that's what they get after betraying you, insulting you, and even had the extremes of inflicting mental damage that made you in distress every day. They had it coming.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG whose smile turned into a giddy one, blushing as he imagined the warm welcome that awaited him once he comes home to you. You, who would be overjoyed to welcome him home, would undoubtedly not raise an eyebrow at his bloodstained attire.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who went up to you from behind after he saw you cooking dinner in his favorite black sundress on with a cute little apron you have. "You proud of me, hase?" he asks into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin, causing your thighs to clench together. "Kein Stress mehr..."

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who practically purrs when he heard you coo of a 'yes, i'm proud of you, baby,' as you laid your head against his large chest. His words dripping with a promise of bloodshed. The feeling of your body against his excited the hunter in him and he savored every inch of flesh he touched.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who got rid of the bloodstained gloves he was wearing, as to not taint your beautiful skin with blood. He didn't mind the mess himself, but he couldn't bring himself to stain you with something he considered precious.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who appreciated every part of your skin, caressing and gripping your hips firmly into his front, while groping your breasts through your clothing. His eyes twinkled with appreciation as he took in your flawless skin beneath your dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who absolutely melts into your body from behind when you told him that you love how he's so strong, dreamily whispering how you love his big meaty arms, his tall frame that completely engulfs you, and how the mask he wears drove you mad with lust.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG whose heart was beating wildly as he thought of taking you to bed and pinning you beneath him. He relished the thought of manhandling you and taking advantage of your helplessness. He couldn't help but feel excitement and anticipation coursing through his veins as he imagined the different ways he could show his love.

⟡ SLASHER!KÖNIG who was obsessed with you, to the point of resorting to violence means to make you his. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty or covered in blood if it meant keeping you safe.

"The things I do, I do it all for you. I won't let anyone harm you, mein hübscher Schatz."

a/n: hi! if u guys know where the first fanart is from, pls tell me ty! would love to credit the owner (google and pinterest couldn't help me track down the source 😭)

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stellarnightstalk · 5 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐀 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞!

There was a deafening silence around the room, the type of silence where you could even hear a pin drop. The only sound you would hear was the occasional impatient tapping of your foot as you waited with an awkward smile around your face.

The man in front of you held some papers in his hands, more precisely, divorce papers. He was reading them thoroughly and slower than he should be. Your eye twitched in annoyance, you had planned what to do, what to say, and did a whole dramatic entrance just for him to be staring at those damn papers for almost 30 minutes.

You looked at the man who sat in silence before you, Cedric Ironheart, the male lead of the romance fantasy novel you were in. The truth of the matter is that what happened to you wasn't something you could speak about very lightly. Sometimes you couldn't even believe it yourself, it’s not common for you to reincarnate to a romance novel, at least that’s what you think.

Luckily you were spared the memories of your death in the real world, you admit that they were a bit blurry, but it kept you going.

One day you were slouching around your couch, after quitting the job you were clearly being underpaid for, you remember taking numerous sleeping pills to be able to get through the night, the next you were here, in someone else's body entirely. And not just anyone's body, but the body of the main villainess from your favorite novel, “The Forbidden Princess.” A story about a blooming romance between a duke and a “peasant” girl but of course, it wasn’t any normal story. The peasant was revealed to be a secret daughter that the emperor had, and the Duke was ordered to take custody of the girl and teach her the ways of etiquette and high society in the meantime, and so on.

Cedric was forced into an arranged marriage by his father, which was the main conflict of the story. And the person that he was married to was you, well not you but the villainess, (Y/N, L/N). Or, (Y/N) Ironheart, the stuck-up, childish, and wicked woman who was obsessed with the duke, whose only good aspect was her alluring beauty but was overshadowed by her blackened heart. You were meant to create problems in the story to make the romance progress between the main lovers, like spilling wine onto the protagonist's dress, spreading awful rumors to destroy the protagonists reputation. And more to come.

You knew how the story ended for the villainess, all her plans ended up backfiring which made the couple grow closer. Cedric eventually divorced the villainess due to her spoiled nature, which of course made her angry. Blinded by rage, she attempted to assassinate the princess, but was quickly discovered by the male lead, which led to her demise. She was sentenced to death, being publicly executed by the man she loved the most.

You never liked her from the start, you find yourself pitying her in some way, but her character was created for a sole purpose, for the plot, but this situation is different. You are quite literally HER, and the preferred ending is not dying, it's all very simple. You don't want to die, so you decide to cut off what is supposed to be the cause of your death. The Duke of the North, your husband. Then maybe go to the countryside, get a job that’ll keep you stable, you've been thinking about getting a cute little cottage.

That WAS originally the plan, but you’ve been stuck here for God knows how long. Does he not know how to read? You’ve taken notice that some groups in medieval times didn’t know how to. You cleared your throat, making his attention go from the papers towards you. You find yourself admiring his looks, no wonder he's a male lead, he's a handsome fella you'll give him that.

“Look, I know you want this and I want it too so let's not dilly-dally, right? All you need to do is sign right here.” You leaned forward, pointing at the empty line on the bottom right of the paper that's supposed to be filled by his signature, “And I'll be gone faster than you could say—”

“No.”

You chuckled, “I was going to say faster than you could say—” Your eyes widened. “Wait what? What do you mean no?!” You stood up from your seat, slamming your hands on the table in front of you in utter shock.

“My decision is final, your proposal of divorce has been denied. Do you need anything else?” He smoothly said, returning the divorce papers to you, crossing his legs.

Your gaze lingered on the blank papers in your hands, mouth agape. You sat down, taking a deep breath to regain your composure. Shaking your head you changed your gaze from the papers to Cedric, “Your grace, I trust that you will reconsider! I am not fit to be a Duchess, you must know where I'm coming from.” You were getting desperate, you weren't about to die here because this asshole decided not to divorce you, he hates the villainess! He doesn't want the marriage, so why is he being so stubborn?

“No, I don’t. I believe you make a great duchess.” He grabbed a cup of tea that was on his left, sipping from it calmly. “Are you perhaps feeling jealous because the emperor’s daughter is going to be under my watch? I guarantee that you have nothing to worry about.” He placed the finished tea cup on the saucer that was on the table. “I’ll be sure to give you as much attention as you desire.”

You noticed your eye twitching, questioning whether he was bluffing or if he was actually this egotistical. You forced a smile and explained, "I assure you that the emperor's daughter has no involvement in this matter. It's a decision I've been thinking for some time now and I believe it would be a positive change." That was a lie. Of course you wanted to leave because of the emperor’s daughter, your life depended on it. A little alteration to the truth won’t do any harm.

You noted how he examined you with a raised eyebrow, but you held your head high.

Cedric let out a sigh. "You may have a point, but it's not up to you to make this decision." He uncrossed his legs and got up from his seat, heading in your direction. He stopped right in front of you.

He leaned down and placed his hand on your chin, making you look up. “Are you perhaps drunk again? I told your personal butler not to bring you as much whiskey anymore. I had to hide a lot of bottles.” Your eyes widened as you felt his hands on your chin, he had rough hands, but a somewhat warm gentle touch to it. Something about it felt possessive, you were confused. You don't remember something like this occurring in the novel.

You stared at him. “I assure you that I'm completely sober. I haven't even seen a bottle of whiskey, let alone drank one. Trust me, you would know,” you answered sarcastically. Cedric let out a rare chuckle at your humorous response and let go of your chin. Your fingers brushed against each other for a moment.

“I suppose you're right. You wouldn't skip an opportunity to drink your heart out, would you?" He crossed his arms and focused his attention on you. "Either way, my answer remains the same. I feel the need to inform you that the emperor's daughter will be arriving in a week.”

As he walks away from you, he heads towards the door and pushes it open. However, instead of leaving, he stands there for a minute, looking back at you. You look back at him, noticing his gaze. Smiling, you fold the divorce papers into a smaller square and wave it around.

“My offer still stands, contact me if you ever want a divorce.” You declared with a forceful smile on your lips as you tucked the paper into the cleavage of your dress.

He looked down at the paper.

“I won't.” He replied, slamming the door behind him, leaving an echoing sound around the room. You were left with your thoughts, and the smile on your face turned into a scowl. A week? That seemed too far away. You needed to leave this place, fast.

Grasping the nearest pillow, you press it against your face as you scream into it, muffling your curses as you try to calm down. What did he even mean by "He won't"? That asshole!

He’s so full of himself! To think that he was your favorite character from the story. If you had the chance you’d leave a 1-star review on that godforsaken novel.

Taking a deep breath, you removed the pillow from your face and placed it next to you neatly as if nothing ever happened. Recollecting your thoughts, you tried to rationalize.

But, there is no way to get this done differently, the emperor's orders are absolute. So, you're kind of out of options here. You close your eyes and groan, rubbing your temple, this is a massive headache to deal with.

It is best to avoid interfering with the two lovers and let them be. If you don't cause any problems and allow them to fall in love, he'll divorce you to be with the princess. You won't be harmed, and everyone will be able to live happily ever after.

Perhaps you can find an attractive man in the countryside, he may not be as handsome as Cedric, but he will do.

You open your eyes tiredly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a fancy-looking bottle, which you presume to be the whiskey they've been hiding from the villainess. You stood up from the chair, walked towards the bottle, leaned down, and grabbed it. You examined the bottle, it read “Johnnie Walker, 1820, Old Scotch Whisky.”

You hummed, you'll save that for later, you placed it under your tighter-than-normal corset. It took you a while but it went in, hopefully, nobody will notice.

——

Cedric was sitting on the corner of his bed, he was lost in thought, normally he would think about his duties, the emperor, or anything else. But tonight he was thinking about you, you were acting different, but not in a bad way. For once, he might even say he felt attracted to you today, which is something he wouldn't be caught alive saying.

The way you spoke, felt somewhat mature. Something he had never experienced you doing before, you had always been childish, and spoiled, always finding new ways to get under his skin.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew you were beautiful. There was no doubt about that, but it wasn't until now that he truly saw it. His heart raced with excitement as he realized the depth of your beauty.

The way you looked up at him as he grabbed your chin, how soft you felt. He loved how you reacted, which caused him to do the things that he did. He had never touched you before, but now, he might be a bit addicted to your touch.

He doesn’t want you to divorce him, not after today. He doesn’t get it either, but he needs you, badly.

When he grabbed your chin, you didn't pull away. Instead, you stayed there, with him. Did you feel it too? You must have.

If you hadn't, you would have pushed him away. At least that's what he thinks. No, that's what he knows.

You have him wrapped around your finger, without any explanation.

He looked at his hand, the warmth of when your fingers brushed against each other lingered. He let out a shaky breath and placed his fingers on his lips, fantasizing about how soft your hands would be in contact with his.

He clenched his fist.

“What kind of spell have you placed on me this time, my dear wife?”

from, your admirer.

credits:

neutral heart + star divider made by @cafekitsune

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