dilf-hunter-fantasies

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

your writing is so good i’m obsessed

💋 thank you babe! i gotta do something with these horny visions of joel miller or i'll combust!

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

sometimes, it's not so much about the romance as it is about the devotion. the adoration.

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

i need a sugar daddy joel miller

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

[900 words of fluff and cock worship]

daydreaming about…

Older boyfriend Joel who is so is so patient and tender with you. He slips out of the bedroom without turning on a light in the mornings, not wanting to disturb your sleep. But he never forgets to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, murmuring something sweet, before he leaves.

And on the weekends it’s the same. Except he comes back in an hour or two, just to leave a coffee on the nightstand for you. Doting without smothering, or risking your morning attitude.

Some days you don’t wake up until you smell the earthy coffee, steam still swirling from the mug. But most of the time he barely makes it to the doorway before you croak out a quiet, “Wait.”

“Come here,” you lilt in your rich timbered morning voice, stretching your arms toward him. It never gets old to him, no, he thinks it’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. One of the most heavenly sights.

You can only grin lazily at him. Your gaze drags down, over his handsome smile, over the rippling muscles of his chest and arms under his worn tee, and skimming over the bulge in his loose sweats.

You scoot toward the middle of the bed, hold up the cover, inviting him into the warmth you’ve been nestled in. He climbs in and scoops you onto the broad plane of his chest.

“Morning, pretty girl,” he rumbles beneath you, voice deep as the ocean. It’s so serene to be in his strong arms. Nobody has ever grounded you like this, anchored you, physically and emotionally.

It’s not that being older makes him smarter or wiser than you, rather, he’s the first to brag about your accomplishments or support your goals. It’s the way that time has taught him gratitude.

Joel is present with you. So alive. Flesh and blood, warm and firm. He’s not in a rush, not sacrificing his energy chasing benchmarks or brushing you off to prove something.

He’s there with you.

Sometimes he just holds you in a peaceful quiet. You listen to his breathing and his heartbeat. Until the sun gets higher in the sky and the world comes to life.

But most of the time you can’t resist wiggling your hips against him and biting your lip. Fucking with him, just until you feel his dick start to stir.

Joel’s heart flutters at your breathy giggles, but when your laughter is cut off with a gasp, the heat rushes lower. He likes the game you play, always teasing him and acting surprised at how fiercely he wants you. How badly he needs you. It never takes long before he’s rock hard, straining against his sweats, precum leaving a little dark patch against the soft material between you.

Sometimes everything stays slow and syrupy, just grinding and rubbing against each other until Joel can’t take it anymore. Until he has to roll you over so he can sink into your soft, warm cunt. Sometimes you take turns spoiling each other with greedy hands and mouths until you’re both sweating and sticking to each other.

But sometimes you do this thing that sends him right over the edge. You sit up and perch your ass on the meat of his thighs, far enough down that you can pull at his waistband freeing his throbbing cock. The way you grin just playing it makes him dizzy.

You’re so fucking hot without even trying.

You’re always fascinated by his dick, hard or soft.

Always amused with the bounce it makes when you let go of his shaft and the weight makes it slap against his lower belly. You like the mess of it, the precum that beads, and rolls from his slit, the string of it connecting to the trail of hair on his stomach. You’re easily infatuated by the heat of his length in your palm, the silky smooth skin, the veins and the deep flushed shade of the head. The lust on your face is unmistakable.

Joel could cum just seeing the ardor in your eyes and the greedy way you wet your lips. But then, matching his gaze and lowering your body, you lick a hot, wet stripe from base to tip. His entire body shudders, overwhelmed with the heavenly bliss.

When you finally envelop him in the wet furnace of your mouth, he’s on another planet, groaning and praising you, encouraging you with a massive palm wrapped around the back of your head. Completely at your mercy, he’ll do anything you want. You get him so blissed out he’s nearly incoherent.

He rarely lasts long enough to fuck you properly on those mornings, instead but when you finally let him get his hands between your legs he could nearly cum a second time just feeling how wet you are.

Drenched.

So absurdly turned on, he barely gets to sink his thick digits inside of you before you’re gasping and crying out his name. But you love it. Nobody has ever made you burn with such intensity and ache with such desire.

And he’s generous. Joel never stops until you’re tugging at his wrist, pulling his arm away as you tremble and spasm.

And some days when you come back to yourself and find yourself staring into his deep brown eyes you think you’d like to spend your mornings like this for the rest of your life.

🍒 🌸

click here for more of my writing

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

Imo in order to finish your writing project you need to be unhealthily obsessed with your characters to a point where you question your sanity

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

nothing humbles you faster than realizing the sentence you’re most proud of is grammatically incomprehensible.

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

Javi is not pleased to get a phone call from the boss in 2x09 Nuestra Finca

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

[900 words of fluff and cock worship]

daydreaming about…

Older boyfriend Joel who is so is so patient and tender with you. He slips out of the bedroom without turning on a light in the mornings, not wanting to disturb your sleep. But he never forgets to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, murmuring something sweet, before he leaves.

And on the weekends it’s the same. Except he comes back in an hour or two, just to leave a coffee on the nightstand for you. Doting without smothering, or risking your morning attitude.

Some days you don’t wake up until you smell the earthy coffee, steam still swirling from the mug. But most of the time he barely makes it to the doorway before you croak out a quiet, “Wait.”

“Come here,” you lilt in your rich timbered morning voice, stretching your arms toward him. It never gets old to him, no, he thinks it’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. One of the most heavenly sights.

You can only grin lazily at him. Your gaze drags down, over his handsome smile, over the rippling muscles of his chest and arms under his worn tee, and skimming over the bulge in his loose sweats.

You scoot toward the middle of the bed, hold up the cover, inviting him into the warmth you’ve been nestled in. He climbs in and scoops you onto the broad plane of his chest.

“Morning, pretty girl,” he rumbles beneath you, voice deep as the ocean. It’s so serene to be in his strong arms. Nobody has ever grounded you like this, anchored you, physically and emotionally.

It’s not that being older makes him smarter or wiser than you, rather, he’s the first to brag about your accomplishments or support your goals. It’s the way that time has taught him gratitude.

Joel is present with you. So alive. Flesh and blood, warm and firm. He’s not in a rush, not sacrificing his energy chasing benchmarks or brushing you off to prove something.

He’s there with you.

Sometimes he just holds you in a peaceful quiet. You listen to his breathing and his heartbeat. Until the sun gets higher in the sky and the world comes to life.

But most of the time you can’t resist wiggling your hips against him and biting your lip. Fucking with him, just until you feel his dick start to stir.

Joel’s heart flutters at your breathy giggles, but when your laughter is cut off with a gasp, the heat rushes lower. He likes the game you play, always teasing him and acting surprised at how fiercely he wants you. How badly he needs you. It never takes long before he’s rock hard, straining against his sweats, precum leaving a little dark patch against the soft material between you.

Sometimes everything stays slow and syrupy, just grinding and rubbing against each other until Joel can’t take it anymore. Until he has to roll you over so he can sink into your soft, warm cunt. Sometimes you take turns spoiling each other with greedy hands and mouths until you’re both sweating and sticking to each other.

But sometimes you do this thing that sends him right over the edge. You sit up and perch your ass on the meat of his thighs, far enough down that you can pull at his waistband freeing his throbbing cock. The way you grin just playing it makes him dizzy.

You’re so fucking hot without even trying.

You’re always fascinated by his dick, hard or soft.

Always amused with the bounce it makes when you let go of his shaft and the weight makes it slap against his lower belly. You like the mess of it, the precum that beads, and rolls from his slit, the string of it connecting to the trail of hair on his stomach. You’re easily infatuated by the heat of his length in your palm, the silky smooth skin, the veins and the deep flushed shade of the head. The lust on your face is unmistakable.

Joel could cum just seeing the ardor in your eyes and the greedy way you wet your lips. But then, matching his gaze and lowering your body, you lick a hot, wet stripe from base to tip. His entire body shudders, overwhelmed with the heavenly bliss.

When you finally envelop him in the wet furnace of your mouth, he’s on another planet, groaning and praising you, encouraging you with a massive palm wrapped around the back of your head. Completely at your mercy, he’ll do anything you want. You get him so blissed out he’s nearly incoherent.

He rarely lasts long enough to fuck you properly on those mornings, instead but when you finally let him get his hands between your legs he could nearly cum a second time just feeling how wet you are.

Drenched.

So absurdly turned on, he barely gets to sink his thick digits inside of you before you’re gasping and crying out his name. But you love it. Nobody has ever made you burn with such intensity and ache with such desire.

And he’s generous. Joel never stops until you’re tugging at his wrist, pulling his arm away as you tremble and spasm.

And some days when you come back to yourself and find yourself staring into his deep brown eyes you think you’d like to spend your mornings like this for the rest of your life.

🍒 🌸

click here for more of my writing

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

Javier Peña in Narcos | 1x02 The Sword of Simón Bolívar

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

y'all fantasizing about daddy joel folding you in half atop the kitchen table in broad daylight just like me? hell yeah 🙂‍↕️

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

JOEL IN EVERY EPISODE OF THE LAST OF US: ↳ S1 EP1: WHEN YOU’RE LOST IN THE DARKNESS.

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

Overtime

Status: Complete.

Pairings: Boss Dave York x Secretary Female Reader

Word Count: 1008 words

Summary: Preparation for an investor presentation kept you and your boss Dave York working overtime.

Author's Notes: Hey, it's been a while and I know I have a shit ton of WIPs lol but I hope you all enjoy this new Dave York piece. I am open to requests and prompts, too.

Warnings: Minors DNI. 18+ only. This fic contains explicit sexual content, themes of infidelity, and unhealthy relationship dynamics/power imbalance, employer-employee relationships. Reader discretion is advised.

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

The office is eerily quiet, the low hum of the central air system the only sound as you perch yourself on Dave’s lap. Your back arches slightly, your hands gripping the polished edge of his mahogany desk to keep your balance. The soft fabric of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the creamy expanse of your thighs and the black lace of your panties pushed to the side. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as you move atop him in slow, deliberate rolls of your hips.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and it’s not just from the pleasure coursing through your veins. It’s always like this. Heated. Urgent. Completely reckless. You bite your lower lip, stifling the sound bubbling up your throat, your mind warring with itself. You hate and love this in equal measure. You love how his touch makes you feel alive in a way nothing else ever has, and you hate the reality you always face when it’s over.

His thick cock stretches you perfectly, filling you in a way that makes your breath hitch with every movement. Each upward thrust of your hips meets the firm grip of his hands, steadying you as he guides you into a rhythm that is both demanding and intoxicating.

“Fuck, baby, I love this so much…” he groans, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His head rests against the back of his executive chair, his sharp features cast in the dim light of the desk lamp. “You feel so goddamn good. Always so damn good…”

Your chest tightens at the words. They aren’t new. He always says things like that when you’re in a moment like this. And the pounding in your chest isn’t from the building pleasure but from the knowledge that this will never be more than what it is… A dirt little secret from the world. 

Your internal conflict swirls in your chest, tangled with the physical ache of your body chasing the high he always brings you to. He shifts slightly, leaning forward to press a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder. His teeth graze your skin, making you clench around him involuntarily.

“Don’t stop,” he commands, his voice low and rough. One of his hands slides from your hip, skimming over your stomach before dipping lower, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He presses tight, deliberate circles there, and you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as the sensation shoots through you like a bolt of lightning.

“Dave,” you whimper, your grip on the desk tightening as your thighs tremble. You’re so close, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

“Not yet,” he growls, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You don’t cum until I tell you to.”

You whimper, biting your lip hard to stifle the moan threatening to escape. You try to focus on the desk under your hands, on the steady rhythm of your hips against his, but the sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit while his cock fills you to the hilt is too much. Your body quivers, teetering on the edge of release.

And then the phone fucking rings.

You freeze, your breath hitching in your throat. He lets out a low growl of frustration, his hand stilling on your nub as he reaches for the phone on his desk. He glances at the caller ID and sighs heavily before answering.

“York,” he says, his voice clipped, though his fingers resume their torturous circles on your clit. Your eyes widen, your body trembling as you try to stay still, to keep quiet, but it’s impossible.

“Yes, the investment presentation is on track,” he says into the phone, his tone professional despite the way his hand works you over, keeping you on the brink. He leans back in his chair, his free hand gripping your hip tightly to steady you. His voice drops slightly as he says, “I’ll call you back. My secretary is… coming.”

Your cheeks burn, your breath coming in sharp gasps as he ends the call and drops the phone back onto the desk. Before you can recover, his hands grip your hips again, and he thrusts up into you hard, his movements unrelenting.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding. “Now.”

Your body obeys, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cry out, your walls clenching tightly around him as your thighs quiver. Your head falls back, your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure wracks through you. He doesn’t stop, his pace relentless as he chases his own high, your body tightening around him only spurring him on.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head against your nape as he comes, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his release. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tightly against him as he empties himself inside you. You swear you can feel every hot rope of his release, leaving you feeling bloated and utterly spent.

The room is silent except for your ragged breathing. You slump forward, your hands still braced on the desk as you try to catch your breath. His hands soften their grip, his fingers brushing over your skin in lazy, soothing strokes.

It’s always like this. Passionate and consuming. And yet, as you clean up, straightening clothes and fixing hair, the reality always looms. He kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual, but it’s not enough to chase away the ache in your chest.

You watch him leave, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he walks to the elevator. He will go home to his family, to his wife, and lay in bed beside her while you lay awake in your own. And that’s the part that hurts the most. This is all you could ever be. And you hate that it isn’t enough—but you hate even more that you can’t stop wanting him anyway.

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

#husband thats loyal to no one but you

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

fantasizing about...

boyfriend joel miller fucking you on the kitchen table on a warm spring day cuz he can't even finish putting the groceries away without bending you over the table first

1.5k words 🌸 warnings: mdni/explicit/smut, no outbreak, female reader, reader has hair that joel can weave his fingers in, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, creampie kink talk, use of: daddy, pretty girl, baby, praise and teasing

🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸

In between gasping breaths, you beg and beg for more.

“Harder—ah—harder, please!”

Joel keeps slamming you into the edge of the kitchen table, trapping you in place with his body. He splays one massive hand between your shoulder blades, pressing down firmly, squishing your tits against the cool wood surface.

His other hand clamps around your hip, keeping you in place as he fucks into you deeper and deeper. He snaps his hips brutally against you, jolting your whole body forward, causing your ass to ripple with each thrust.

He grunts through clenched teeth, bruising you as his fingers dig into your flesh.

You know you’ve got him wound up tight. You’d been a tease all morning as you ran errands, whispering your dirtiest thoughts to him in the middle of the produce section, not so subtly brushing your ass against his crotch at every checkout line, and, of course, revealing you had nothing on under your sundress before skipping off to the parking lot. And now he’s gonna make you take it all.

“Harder?” he taunts with a strained edge. “This needy little pussy isn’t satisfied being filled with Daddy’s cock?” He’s already fucking you hard enough that he thinks you might both go through the table.

Your brain isn’t connecting your thoughts. Your head lolls, bouncing a little each time his hips meet your ass. His cock is so thick it lights up every nerve inside of you. Makes it hard to focus. But you know he wants an answer.

“No,” you murmur, unable to add any context.

He stills deep inside of you causing you to whine. His hand grasps the base of your skull, fingers wearing tightly into the roots of your hair, and he turns you to meet his eyes. “No? It’s not enough?” His eyes are nearly black, but fire flickers behind them.

Your body isn’t helping. Spineless, sweaty, and limp. You’re only held together by the table and his body curled over you. You have to fight to hold your heavy eyelids open to respond.

“No, no,” your brows pinch as you murmur the word over and over.

Joel’s muscles are tense and his body is so sturdy. You can feel his chest rising and falling as he waits for you to string a full sentence together.

“No, it’s…” you fight to pull the thought together. “Daddy’s cock s’perfect,” you slur together.

Before you can conjure up another sentence, he pulls out of you, leaving you empty and aching, a whimper escaping before you can stop it. 

“Don’t lie,” he growls right into the shell of your ear before he flips you over.

It’s disorienting when he does that but it’s also a huge turn on. You’re always pliant in his hands, but there’s a thrill in knowing how much he needs this too.

He has you flat on your back now. The damp skin on your bare shoulders sticks to the tabletop before your jelly-like limbs can protest. Your dress is functionally useless with the hem rucked up above your hips and the neckline peeled down and wedged under the curve of you breasts.

“Not lying, Daddy,” you plead. He only hums in thought. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands skim along your legs, spreading them wider. He lifts them, slipping his hands under the back of your knees and pressing them towards your chest. You wiggle just until you’re perched at the edge of the table, eager for him to sink his fat cock back where it belongs. 

His hold is always secure, his weight pressing down on you, grounding you even as he drives you wild. Only Joel can have you floating in a romantic haze while he folds you in half and let’s you tremble and drip. 

A gentle breeze flows through the kitchen window as he keeps you waiting. The cool, moving air feels sublime as it kisses your heat-flushed skin. You’re certain you recognize the delicate, sweet scent of the apple blossoms drifting over you. It’s idyllic. Or, it would be, if it weren’t for the empty, aching feeling in your cunt.

“Please,” you start, so helpless your voice might crack, “I jus’ need you.” 

You hold your breath waiting to find out if you’re in trouble after your bad behavior or if he needs you just as bad right now. 

He watches your entrance flutter with needy contractions. “Beggin’ the only way she knows how,” he remarks. You strain to hold your head up, peeking at his cock. It makes your stomach flip and your lips part. 

It never gets less impressive. The smooth mushroom tip flushed a deep shade of red, the prominent veins you nearly know by heart, and the imposing girth all the way from tip to base. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d worry it wouldn’t fit. 

But you know exactly how perfectly it fits inside of you. And you need it. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, they’re already locked on you. A smug, prideful smile curling his lips an crinkling his eyes. 

You whimper when he curls his body over yours and his dick nudges and prods your puffy folds. You arch, trying to angle yourself so he’ll slot right at your empty hole, but he’s faster. 

Devilish man.

He nips at the hinge of your jaw, before murmuring huskily at you. 

“Say it again, baby,” he kisses behind your ear. “What do you need?” 

You grab him by his dark curls, angling that scruffy jaw and those plush lips to yours for a hungry, heated kiss. He softens, letting you deepen the kiss, groaning into your mouth as you tug at his hair and claw at his shoulders. 

When he lifts up you both have wet, swollen lips and heavy-lidded eyes. 

“I asked you a question, pretty girl,” he teases, lowly, but with no malice behind it. His face hovers just above yours, warm breaths shared between your parted lips. 

“Need you to fuck me hard, Daddy.” 

“Yeah?”

“Please,” the word slips out like more of a pained whisper as your chest heaves beneath him. 

Joel hooks your hands behind your knees leaving you to hold yourself open for him. Then, you’re too close together to see, but you can hear the slick pull of his fist stroking his shaft, still coated in your arousal. When he lines himself up, slotted at your entrance, you nearly cry out. 

“How hard?” 

You let out a sharp gasp as he continues to tease you with otherworldly restraint, pushing just enough to light you up and then easing up. 

“So hard I can’t walk. Can’t talk. Can’t think.” 

He holds still, grinning at you. 

“Please, Daddy” you keep going, “jus’ wanna be fucked out and full of your cum the rest of the day.” You know the plea goes straight to his dick, you feel it throb and kick. 

“Repeat it.” He demands, something wilder flickering behind his eyes. 

“Want your cum dripping out of me the rest of the day.” 

He’s beaming as he stares down at you.

“Beg.”

“Please, Daddy—“ you choke as he splits you open onto his cock finally. One harsh stroke and he’s buried deep as he can be, but he holds still. You blink at him and start over. “Please, Daddy. Fuck me stupid with your big cock.”

“Again,” he demands, voice velvety and low. 

You’re squirming. Tears nearly spilling from your eyes out of desperate want.

“Please, please, please,” you chant in a breathy whisper.

He starts tracing half circles around your clit with his thumb. Holding you right on the edge. Your hips jerk and his other hand flattens across your lower stomach keeping you in place and adding to the pressure of his massive length that fills you to the brim and makes you moan. 

He grins at you and starts dragging himself, almost painfully slowly, in and out of you. Your nerves are all on fire with the intensity.

“Harder, please.” 

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he concedes in his rich voice, “you got it. Gonna fuck you dumb.”

You melt, eyes rolling back and head lolling resting against the firm table. He picks up speed, sawing in and out of you, setting a steady pace.  

He increases the pressure with his thumb, still circling your swollen bundle of nerves. Everything in you is burning bright. You’re whispering mindlessly, between breaths again, “please, Daddy—please.”

“That’s it, baby,” he croons softly like he hasn’t been torturing you. “Let me feel her. Love it when she tries to milk me.”

You let him talk you into it. Tipping you head first into a hot, bright orgasm. You can faintly hear him groaning as your wells clench around him, but his words get drowned out by your pleasure. 

You can barely hear anything over your own heartbeat pounding. Waves roll though you, and your cunt continues to clamp down on his dick while he still rocks into you. He only removes eases off of your pearl when your hips are twitching with sensitivity.

When you can finally make out words again, you have to slow him down. 

“What’re you saying?”

“Keep count for me.”

You tilt your head at him. Slow to process. 

“That’s one.” He says.

Oh. 

You’ve created a monster.

“One.” You affirm and he nods.

“Atta girl.”

🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒 🌸 🍒

click here for more of my writing

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

idgaf i’m going on a murdering spree

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

nothing makes me feel more alive than being insane about a little show