goaways-stuff - Tumblr blog

goaways-stuff · 13 days ago

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"Let them see."

pairing: Pedro Pascal x male reader

summary: You and Pedro are on the set of Gladiator 2, but he pulls you away for some time alone.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Pedro Pascal RPF (real person fiction), unprotected sex, bot! reader, first person, p in a, kissing, swearing, anal, fingering, hand over mouth, analingus, creampie, public sex, partial nudity, dom Pedro, sub reader, aggressive, overstimulation, hickeys, fake blood

word count: just under 4000

A/N: I tried writing with "you" instead of "I" for this one. Let me know how it reads and what you prefer!!

By midday, you were done with the sweltering heat in Morocco. The sun’s ever-beaming presence had forced your energy into a restless state, unable to do anything but sweat as you watched Pedro work, seemingly oblivious to the sun's downpour of heat onto the Earth. His film, Gladiator II, had placed him in an extremely demanding state; his scenes today consisting heavily of action, fighting energetically and unapologetically. Sure, he was drenched with sweat, but his energy didn’t drop a tick, working with determination. You felt bad, his costume a thick, heavy, black leather suit of armour. You could not fathom how he hadn’t fallen unconscious by now.

Finally, after a particularly bloody fight scene, leaving him drenched in fake blood, the directors called a break. Immediately, you moved towards him, following behind as he and the other actors moved towards their tents, accumulating in the largest and coolest one. Slipping inside, you moved towards Pedro, locating him through his loud and wheezing laugh, until you found him with his back turned, speaking to a few people working on the film. You stood there for a few seconds, unwanting to have to force yourself into conversation with people you barely know. It was awkward, hovering around on set, waiting around for Pedro. But it was worth it. He was worth it. The way he made you smile and laugh every time he spotted you and pulled a discreet but low-key obvious face at you made up for all the hours of standing around in pools of sweat.

You watched as he spoke energetically with the others, laughing freely, unconstrained in demeanour. His presence brooded comfort, and slowly, you made your way closer towards Pedro, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You felt his body shift and turn until he was looking down at you, his height and broad shoulders encompassing your entire eyesight. Immediately, his smile welled into a large grin, the sides of his eyes crinkling, full of glee. Pedro pulled you into a hug, enwrapping your body with his, chuckling into your ear.

“I missed you,” he said, smiling down at your face. You felt your cheeks blush, holding his hand sheepishly. He gripped it tighter, pulling you near him. He smelt like he usually did, but new notes of leather from his outfit, and a small plastic scent from the fake blood. His eyes stared into yours, deep, affectionate, and wanting. You felt his thumb run over the top of your hand, focusing completely on you, the world a void around you. Sounds were impermanent, passing around you like a thick oil. You were ensheathed, engrossed, devoted to Pedro.

“Can I show you a place?” He asked, his voice hopeful. “It’s not far, I promise.”

“Okay.”

—--

He pulled you into a small alcove in the current set, hidden from the general view of anyone who might pass by. He had dragged you across the set despite your cries of protest in disrupting the space, promising that nothing bad would happen. Exposed under the heat, you couldn’t help in your sun-drunk state but stare at the flash of his bare thighs underneath his leather belt, the cords rippling around his figure, gifting a flew glances of bare skin. They entranced you, teasing your already semi-hard penis. In the alcove, you were hidden from the sun, but it was bright enough to see Pedro. He laid back against the stone wall, his costume engrossing him into the space, and you watched as his chest heaved, his shoulders heavy from the heat.

“Im not wearing anything under this,” he said, his head still tilted upwards but his eyes downwards, searching you. “The heat is unbearable.”

“I can tell,” you say, moving closer to him, resting your hands on his waist.

“Fuck. Is it that noticeable?” Pedro says, eyes wide, suddenly aware of his partial nudity.

“Only to me,” you whisper, leaning up to his ear. He places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your hips are touching, his firm grip on you locking you in place. Slowly, he dips his head, moving his lips closer to you. Pedro’s lips tease you, grazing against yours in the proximity.

“I’m only for you.”

Pedro’s soft whisper of confirmation breaks the barrier of your lips, cascading you with lust. Fervently, you and Pedro press into each other, tongues dancing, sending small shocks into your body. You moan into him, your mouth pressing into his with desperation. Your body felt fuzzy, your senses dwarfed by Pedro’s intoxicating presence. You were drunk on him, engorged with him. He made out with fury, his dark beard scratching into your skin, its coarse ends stabbing into you in the best possible way. His moustache pressed into your top lip, pushing your skin into the perfect mould.

You could taste the fake blood that had settled on the left side of his lip, it’s plastic taste pulling you away.

The departure of your lips against his left Pedro bewildered, his shocked face almost comical in his costume.

“What's wrong?” He whispered, and you noticed how his eyes gleamed in the shadows, the dark hazel tint rebounding the sun's glow off the floor.

“The blood. I don’t want to smudge it.” You whisper, suddenly aware of the context that surrounds you. This felt wrong, but Pedro was so good.

“Who cares?” he replied, a small smile lining his face. He stepped closer, pushing you lightly onto the cold stone wall behind you. Its chill sent a rush throughout your body, a stark contrast to the heat that surrounded you. His hand pressed against your shoulder kept you in place, his dominant presence chipping away at your dignity, forcing you to submit. You watched as he ran a finger across his face, coating his finger in the fake blood that had either mixed with your saliva or his sweat. You let out a small protest and he began tracing his finger across your face, staining your skin with the fake blood.

“Let them see.”

He kissed you with a fury, his entire body pressing into you, overpowering you. You could do nothing but attempt to keep up, his tongue pressing into yours with a vigour. He growled into you as he rubbed his body over yours, grinding his waist into your stomach. Even through the leather that dotted his thighs, you could feel the straining hard-on that he burdened. His hand cupped your chin, pulling your face into his as you kissed. They were sweaty, but he gripped you with a firm passion, his fingertips branding your skin with deep red marks from how tightly he held onto your face. Pedro’s eyes were closed, wholly engrossed with your lips. He growled as you made out, the animalistic noise making your knees weak, and you found yourself struggling to stay upright.

It felt as if there was a supernatural presence pushing you down to your knees, head parallel to Pedro’s cock. As he let you move lower down his body, you admired how Pedro looked as General Acacius. The black outfit, the aggressive appearance, it was too much. Paired with how easily you submit to Pedro, he was astoundingly breathtaking. He looked perfect. Just the sight of him made your cock throb in your shorts, and it throbbed even harder when you pressed a gentle hand onto the bulge of the leather tunic. It responded in excitement, bouncing at your touch, grinding into your hand.

Desperately, you pawed through the leather strips, feeling for his cock. The leather was heavy, weighing into your hand, but his cock pushed them upwards, acting as a rest for the strips. You pushed blindly, but even a blind man could have easily located his cock. Touching the underside of his member, you revelled in its sheer size, its length and extreme girth. Your soft touch sent shivers across Pedro’s body, his head bowing, staring at the top of your head. Wrapping your hand around as much of his member as you could, you felt his body release a deep exhale. As you began stroking achingly slow, Pedro began to sweat even more, his forehead furrowed and glistening. Within the tunic, your hand was clammy, and your movements across his cock become more slick by the second. Moving your hand, you cupped his balls. They hung low from his body, you could tell, but their weight relayed the fact that Pedro had been without an orgasm for days, waiting for you, waiting for this. Pedro was always exhausted by the end of a shoot day, so, at midday, he still had the libido you were accustomed to.

With a necessity, you pushed at the leather strips, leaving his cock exposed in the dim light. The sight of his throbbing, glossy member sent a shiver directly to your cock, practically tearing at the seams of your shorts. Pedro’s dick was leaking precum like a geyser, coating his head, running down the underside of his piece. You admired how it throbbed with fury, its weight pulling his uncut tip downwards, practically begging for your mouth. Complying with Pedro’s obvious need, you placed your lips on his tip, tasting his precum as if it were a Michelin-star meal. Its sweet flavour swirled across your lips as he throbbed, and you smiled as you lowered your head down his cock. The heavy grunts that emanated from Pedro’s body above drove you further, pushing you deeper. You were eager to swallow all of him, no matter how badly his size made your jaw ache. You felt yourself choking as you tried to take him all in your mouth, but you pushed deeper, struggling to keep your breath regulated. You huffed his scent the closer you got to his waist, the tips of his pubic hair tickling your nose.

Above you, Pedro struggled to remain quiet, aware of his location, but unable to hinder his noises from your mouth around his cock. He let out a succession of moans, low and hoarse. He was sweating profusely, the fake blood running down his face, his hair becoming more matted by the second. He watched your struggle in a darkened awe, watching your willingness to please him. He watched as you struggled to breathe, sparking an animalistic joy within him. Pedro’s eyes were dark, fueled by lust and hunger. You were his prey, and he was ready to absolutely wreck you.

Pulling your head off his cock, spools of spit covered the distance between the tip of his member and your lips. You gathered your composure, air finally flowing back into your lungs again.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Looking up at Pedro, you noticed how much his demeanour had changed. Instead of the cheery, easygoing person that was publicly fronted, you now saw him: A sex-driven, lustful beast. His breath was heavy and short, and his eyes were sharp, unsympathetic.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He repeated, his voice heavier, no longer asking. Demanding.

Immediately, you wrapped your lips around his cock, and lowered your face down his cock. You began sucking with a need, sucking your cheeks in, running your tongue on the underside of his girth, tracing intricate patterns, invisible letters of devotion.

His sudden grip on your short hair locked you in place. He was rough, pushing you down his cock in a fluid motion. Pedro had entrapped you, his hands restricting unwanted movement. Your lips could not leave his cock.

Pedro began to move your head with a rhythm, rocking your head up and down his as if it were an object. You struggled to adjust to his speed, but you revelled in the way he easily overpowered you. You could taste the sweat that lined his skin, a salt flavour that contrasted with his sweet precum nicely. He hit the back of your throat with a satisfying push, his cock’s rock-hard state breaking your throat into his shape. You moaned in symphony with Pedro, your mind fazed from the heat, and your body intoxicated with his taste. He began to thrust himself, filling your mouth with his member. He pushed against the back of your mouth, teasing your gag reflex, muffling your moans with his cock. He thrust into you desperately, jacking his cock off with your face. His hands were tight around your head, his sweat matting your hair, locking itself around his hands. His cock was relentless, hitting the back of your throat with a driving force, fucking up your jaw. It ached, but you pushed past the feeling, absorbing his precum and getting high off his sweaty musk, overpowering from his hours of work in the heat.

Pedro’s thrusts quickly increased in pace as he huffed heavily above you, the noises not coming to fruition, stuck at the back of his throat. He was hoarse, his noises dry and stifled, but he fucked you with rage, the leather tassels slapping into your face with disregard.

Suddenly, his cock left your mouth completely as his body tensed up. You felt his thighs clench, holding off his orgasm, as his cock throbbed, bouncing in the warm air. The veins were dark, his cock head a deep purple.

“Turn Around.”

As soon as you stood up, he pushed you against the cold wall and yanked at your shorts until they fell to the ground. Harshly, he dug at your hole through your briefs, applying deep pressure, making your body shiver. Your cock felt heavy, straining at your briefs, creating a damp tent. You jumped as he ran his hand down the waistband of your briefs, running his fingers over your asscheek, brushing up against your hole. Pulling away your briefs, he left your entire backside exposed, your hole winking up at him, desperate, needy.

Pedro’s stubble against your bare skin felt insane. The coarse ends scratched at your sensitivity, and you gasped when you felt his tongue run over your hole. He toyed with you, savouring his treat with delight. He kissed your hole passionately, his soft lips a burning sensation that spread directly into the head of your member. His tongue darted in and out tentatively, willing moans of desire from the back of your throat. You whimpered into him, knees weak, as he slowly began stretching you out, his tongue pushing deep, sometimes replaced with a finger, sometimes two. Pedro was deliberate to avoid your prostate, having fucked you too many times that he knew exactly where to please you. He wanted you to feel it all when his cock was balls deep inside you, not just his fingers. But still, the mere presence of Pedro made you insanely close to orgasm, your entire body a loosely contained tingle. You felt like you were high, his roughened hands pushing into you, prepping you for a thorough fuck.

Feeling him move behind you, you timidly began to turn your top, arching to look at him. But before you could even lock eyes, you felt Pedro thrust his entire length into you. The sudden presence pushed your body into the wall, too weak to do anything but take it. He thrust slowly, willing a small moan out of your body. You felt the heat rush up to your face, being so close to complete visibility. Your entire body shook, unprepared for his length, for the heat that rose into your stomach. You could feel his cock resting on your prostate, prompting small moans with every small jerk of movement from Pedro’s body. As his thrusts pushed deeper, rubbing along your prostate, you couldn't help but moan wildly, your cock throbbing with each grind of his cock.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stifle the noises streaming out of your mouth like a desperate plea, bouncing around your hideaway, reverberating out into the world. You whimpered, extremely aware of your state, half-clothed, with Pedro balls deep inside you, fucking you into oblivion. He, on the other hand, was cold, controlled. His moans were mere whispers, promises of confirmation, paired with the unmistakable sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

His hand over your mouth felt like a blessing. He pulled your head back, your back arched as he fucked you. Your hands left the wall, instead moving to your cock, but he slapped them away. Instead, you resorted to grabbing his arm in front of your face, weighing on it as if it were a piece of debris in an open sea. Your knees were weak, your legs numb as he pounded you, desperately gripping his arm, keeping you from falling.

His cock was relentless, pushing at your inner walls with the rage of his role. He attacked you methodically, his tempo unwavering. His moans into your ear were blindingly hot, the low growl moving directly into your throbbing cock. You pulsed with an urgency, jolted by each thrust against your prostate. His cock pushed into your inner walls forcefully, his heat burning his shape into you, like a wax mould.

You moaned into his hand desperately, your breathing heavy and stifled. Pedro’s thrusts were deep, intertwining your bodies in a hushed chorus, a coveted sermon of lust. You loved being his, being used in this way, even if it meant risking your dignity. With every move of his cock reaching inside you, it felt like a promise. You were completely his. He owned you. And he definitely took advantage of that. Every glance at you on set had caused your cock to stir, his presence alone making you weak at the knees. And now he was knee-deep inside you, making you completely crumble under his hand.

His thrusts increased in speed, making your state even more dire. Your cock bounced wildly, thrown about by his movements in par with yours. Your thighs were locked together, tensed as you desperately held back your orgasm. Pedro’s small grunts had increased in volume, his movements more driven, more intense. He cursed into your ear, degrading you into his bitch, his slut, and you whimpered in agreement, too entranced by your pleasure to even comprehend what he said. The sudden pressure from his lips on your neck threw you back to reality, the small pain of him latching himself onto you. He began to brand your skin with small bruises as he pummeled into you, closening his orgasm.

His hot kisses on your neck felt like a searing iron, the pain driving you closer to your limit. Between moans, you pleaded to Pedro, but his firm grip over your mouth left your words incomprehensible. He fucked you wildly, his cock a sledgehammer inside you, tearing at your walls, breaking down what little composure you had left. You were so close, and each thrust pulled you further away from reality. You didn’t feel anything but his cock driving into you and his attack on your neck, and you screamed against his hand in pleasure.

Nearing your orgasm, you felt his presence inside you even more, pushing into your lust-driven state, until you burst.

Your entire body shook, your cock bucking wildly as your hot white semen splattered onto the floor. Your back arched with ferocity, Pedro’s member still ramming into you. You felt your inner walls pulsate around his cock, its rock-hard state still pushing into your prostate, provoking a sixth splatter of come, then a seventh, then an eighth. You cried out, your fingers digging into his arm desperately. Your legs shook with the strength of your orgasm, and how Pedro still endlessly fucked your hole. Your chest heaved, desperate for breath, your synapses firing on overdrive, your body unable to comprehend even more pleasure from Pedro’s movements. Each kiss on your neck overtook your body as each of his speedy and lengthy thrusts transported you away from reality.

Suddenly, his hands moved away from your mouth, pushing your noises into the open. Instead, his hands moved to your waist, and Pedro began pulling your body into his cock even more. His thrusts had become lightspeed, pushing into you with an urgency. Your moans, now unfiltered and raw, drove him even further, and you felt his thighs clench with one final thrust.

He exploded deep within you with a low succession of howls, his seed filling every tiny crevice inside you. You cried out as you felt him seep into you, his cock throbbing, pushing at the sides of your ass. It pumped into you, impregnating you, leaking down the sides of his member.

Pedro pulled out, leaving your hole gaping, winking up at him as his semen fell down your skin, pooling at the underside of your ballsack. You whimpered as he pushed a finger inside you, admiring his efforts. You were completely loose, empty without him inside you.

Standing upwards fully, you practically fell into him, your legs numb. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Looking up at Pedro, your lips met with contention. You made out slowly, entranced, stunned. His seed dripped from you, his heat departing with it, leaving you empty.

“Shooting in 5 minutes!” someone called behind you, tensing your entire body and his. Turning around, you were stunned to see a group of workers not even fifty steps away from you, oblivious to you and Pedro. If they really looked, you were sure that they would be able to see at least half of your body. The lack of clothing on your end would not be the best look, so you hurriedly set about getting dressed, his seed still dripping from you, hickeys across your neck, fake blood stained onto your face.

Pedro chucked at the sight of you. He pulled you back into him, his hair a mess, undoubtedly a similarity to yours, and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

“Let them see.” He said, his words a mere whisper. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, timid in Pedro’s presence.

“Let them see,” He repeated, his eyes locked onto yours. And you did. For the rest of the day, the fake blood strewn across your face remained, raising a few eyebrows, especially when a few others saw the chain of hickeys across your neck. You revelled in it, the coveted romance between you and Pedro. People could speculate, but only you and Pedro really knew. You were his toy, and he wanted everyone to know that you were taken.

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goaways-stuff · 19 days ago

Note

please please PLEASE more hyperspermia with joel. maybe a longer fic where he just keeps filling reader over and over and over and talking sooo filthy. maybe sprinkle in some mean joel… 😔

(need this man #raw)

One more

Parings: mean!joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: explicit content 18+, overstimulation, breeding kink, hyperspermia, degradation (calling reader 'milkslut', 'cumdump'), praise kink, cock bulge/belly bulge, cum inflation/swollen belly, hair pulling and slapping, possessive and mean!joel, choking (consensual), dirty talk, use of pet names 'babygirl' and 'sweetheart, excessive cum play, potential physical exhaustion/weakness of reader.

Word count: 1000

Your body's already trembling neath him, the sheets ruined, soaked with sweat and slick and cum, but dosent stop.

He can't.

He needs it.

Needs you. Like this.

He mutters something under his breath, something low and filthy and before gripping your hip, hauling you up onto your side. You're pliant, twitching, a gasp trapped in your throat as he rolls you, presses his chest to your back and sinks back inside your slick, aching cunt.

Slow. Deep. Possessive.

"Fuck- joel-"

"Shh. Shh, baby. I know."

His voice is all gravel and heat, right at your ear as he presses his palmdown over your belly. "Just one. Just need one."

But it's never just one with him.

He drives in again. And again.

Thick and hard and dripping wet, dragging the mess of himself lit of you, only to bury it back in with a bruising slap of skin. You're so full, streched wide and trembling as he fucks his cum deeper and deeper inside. "So fuckin' tight," Joel grits out, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your shouler. "You feel that, sweetheart? That's all me. All that mess dripping down your thighs. Fuckin- look at you." He fists your hair and makes you lift your head just enough to see the bulge in your stomach, his cock, thick and swollen, pushing up against the swell in your belly as he pistons inside you.

"Milkslut," He growls.

"That what you wanted? That why you were beggin' earlier, grindin' all needy on meoke some dumb little bitch in heat?"

You whimper, tears spilling. It's too much- but you crave every second of it. "Uh-huh," He smirks, breathing hot filth into your skin.

"You like being red, don't you? Like gettin' filled up, leaking all over the fuckin' sheets like a messy little whore." His voice drops, darker now. The pace is brutal. The sound of your soaked pussy clapping against his hips is loud in the room,arched only by your stuttering moans.

"Mine"

A hard thrust.

"Mine"

Another.

"Say it."

You can't even form the word, not when he's gripping your throat, not when your brain's short circuited from the pleasure, your cunt spasming around him from the fourth orgasm he's wrung our of you in the last hour.

He doesn't care.

"Say it."

"Y-Yours, Joel- oh fuck, I'm yours-"

"That's right, baby."

He slaps your ass, watching it jiggle. Watching you take it.

"Good fuckin' girl, such a good little cum dump for me. Gonna fuck a baby into you, keep you swollen all the fuckin' time."

You clench.

That breaks him.

His thrusts go sloppy as he empties into you again, groaning loud, hips grinding into the mess between your thighs, making sure mome of it leaks out. "Goddamn - take it, sweetheart. Don't spill a drop. You hear me?" Your thighs are shaking. His seed is leaking. And Joel just laughs, low and mean.

"Better get used to this, darlin'. 'Cause I ain't pullin' out ever again."

~~~

You've already lost count.

Maybe it was the third time he came- maybe the fifth. It's impossible to know anymore with how long he's kept you pinned, stuffed full of his cock, held there like a ragdoll while he fucks you into the mattress. His chest is slick with sweat, body heavy and burning against your back as he thrusts up into you, rutting slow and deep. Every movement makes your cunt squelch loud, messy, soaked in his cum and slick and spit and who the fuck knows what else.

"You hear that?"

Joel bites your earlobe as he pushes in to the hilt.

"You fucking hear that, baby? That's me pourin' into you again"

And he is.

You feel it.

Another thick gush floods you as he groans, hips grinding in tight, desperate circles, pumping rope after rope of heat so deep it makes your eyes flutter back. The pressure builds in your belly, a warmth that spreads slow, growing fuller, heavier, deeper.

"Shit- fuck," You whimper, voice shaking. "Its- joel- it's too much, I can't-"

"You can, sweetheart. You will."

He smirks into your neck, teeth grazing skin. "This cunt's made to take it. My messy little milkslut."

Your belly's swollen now, soft and rounded where his cock bulges up through your skin. His hand spreads wide over it, pressing down just enough to feel himself from the inside. "Fuckin' look at this," Be growls, voice dropping filth.

"Can feel my cock through your tummy. You're so fuckin' full, babygirl. Stuffed to the brim and still takin' it. "

He pulls back just an inch only to ram in again.

A squirt of cum spills from between your thighs. It's not the first time. Wont be the last.

"There it is. Can't even hold it anymore."

He watches it leak down your ass, pooling beneath you on the sheets.

"Made my own little cumdump. Look at that mess. So greedy for it. "

Another thrust. You sob into the pillow, overstimulated and burning. Your thighs are shaking, soaked with slick and sweat and his endless release.

"Gotta keep fuckin' it back in"

He shoves deeper, groaning.

"I ain't done. Not 'till I plug you ful. 'till there's no room left in that little pussy of yours."

You're whimpering, clawing weakly at the sheets.

"Say it," He grits out, slapping your plump red ass.

"Say what you are."

"I'm- I'm your- your milkslut," You gasp, breath hitching.

"Fuck Joel- I'm your filthy little milkslut-"

"Good fuckin' girl."

Another load floods you. Thick, hot, endless. Your belly streches a little more beneath his hand and Joel moans sl deep it rumbles against your back. "That's it. Take it. Take every last fuckin' drop." When he finally stops moving, cock still twitching inside you, you feel it. The sheer weight of him isndid. How soaked you are, how ruined.

But Joel just keeps you there. Plugged full, your cunt fluttering weakly around him.

You're shaking.

He laughs softly and strokes your belly.

"Gonna knock you up real good this time, babygirl."

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goaways-stuff · 20 days ago

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brain go brrrr ── ✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: wife!reader, post-shower, domestic fluff, munch!Pedro, oral (f receiving)

Pedro’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his hoodie and boxers, talking about work with one hand running lazily through his hair. He’s not even looking at you — he’s looking at the wall, animated, hands moving as he talks about tomorrow’s shoot.

“So we’re doing the space scene tomorrow. You know, where Sue and Reed—”

You walk out of the bathroom, towel-drying your hair, completely naked.

You don’t even think about it. Just wander across the room, grabbing one of his old t-shirts from the drawer and a clean pair of underwear, humming softly to yourself.

Behind you, silence.

You glance back. “You were saying something about the space scene tomorrow?”

Pedro is just staring.

Mouth parted. Eyebrows raised. Hands frozen in mid-gesture. Eyes glued to your ass like it personally offended him.

He blinks. “Uh—I—I’m going to space?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

Still stunned.

You smirk, finally turning to face him fully. “You okay, astronaut?”

He drags a hand down his face like it’ll help reboot his brain. “You just… walked out here all—” He gestures vaguely to your body. “Naked and damp and glowing and like you don’t know you’re the hottest thing on this planet or any other.”

You snort, stepping closer, amused. “You’ve seen me naked a thousand times.”

“Yeah, and every single time it’s like—” He cuts himself off, staring again. “I can’t even form sentences right now.”

You pause in front of him, tilting your head. “Did I just make Pedro Pascal forget how to talk?”

His hands shoot out, grabbing your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He presses slow kisses to your belly, lips soft and reverent. Then lower. And lower.

You gasp when he nuzzles right between your legs, his nose brushing your soft curls.

“Pedro—” you murmur, laughing breathlessly, “you are so easy.”

“What?!” he mumbles against your skin, kissing gently, his voice all faux innocence. “You’re gorgeous. And naked. And my wife.”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers curl into his hair anyway. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“I am,” he says shamelessly, licking a soft stripe up your mound. “So let me show you how much.”

You look down — he’s already staring up at you with those damn puppy eyes, mouth hot against your center, all needy and sweet and entirely gone for you.

“Can I eat you out?” he asks like it’s the most important question in the world.

You raise an eyebrow. “Like you haven’t already made that decision.”

He grins, pulling you even closer. “Just being polite.”

And then his tongue is on you — slow and deliberate, kissing and licking like he’s savoring dessert. Moaning like you taste better than whatever was in his fridge.

You give up trying to tease him. Just throw your head back and let him worship you like he was built for it.

Tomorrow, he’ll go to space.

Tonight, he’s right where he belongs — face buried between your thighs, soft curls against his nose, humming like your pussy’s a love song.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

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goaways-stuff · 20 days ago

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José Pedro Balmaceda ‘not always gentle,’ ‘big spoon,’ ‘I’m into submission,’ ‘I’m a pleaser,’ Pascal

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goaways-stuff · 23 days ago

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₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ joel miller x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

joel helps you when you hit your head - 751 words

You’re trying to catch your breath when your foot catches on something, an uneven step or stray debris. It doesn’t matter, because all you see next is your hands in front of you, helplessly reaching out to stop your fall.

It doesn’t help.

Instead, the world tilts, your vision blurring as your head hits the concrete beneath you. Somewhere nearby, a voice is calling out your name — deep, frantic, but already sounding distant.

Your head throbs, the pain hot and sharp, spreading outward in waves. You try to move and groan, the small movement sending waves of pain through your skull.

“Hey. Hey, no, don’t- don’t move. Just stay still.”

The voice is familiar. Gruff. Joel.

You blink, slow and heavy, vision clearing. He finally comes into view — hovering over you with worry etched into every line and groove of his face.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his thumb brushing against your throbbing temple. His touch is gentle, barely even there. “You hit your head pretty hard, honey.”

You have some vague thought about how the pet name would’ve made you blush in better conditions. None of that now, not with broken concrete slabs between your back and your backpack nor the bright sun beating down on your both.

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a pained, weak noise. Your tongue feels leaden, your jaw wired shut.

“You okay to move?” He asks, his hand dropping away from you. The sun halos around his head, each second of brightness sends another pulse of pain within you. You give up entirely and shut your eyes, nodding in response.

You suffer through the next minute. The moment Joel gets you on your feet, your arm over his shoulders, a rush of nausea uncoils in your gut, like a fire spreading. You clamp a hand over your mouth unnecessarily, your breakfast remaining in its place. Through slitted eyes, you watch the ground as it changes from concrete to dirty tile, from mid-day sun to beneath a roof.

“There you go, come on,” he murmurs gently, as if coaxing a frightened horse. He eases your backpack off, another arm around your middle until your back hits a wall and your butt meets the floor. He joins you shortly after, kneeling in front of you. With one calloused but gentle hand, he holds your chin, turning it to look at your wound. Your eyes flutter shut with the contact.

You swallow against the nausea clawing at your throat. Your head and ears feel like they’ve been filled with cotton, muffling everything slightly so that you hear your pulse over anything else. You open your eyes again.

Joel’s face is close, brows knit together in a familiar frown. His hand is warm, now on your chin.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, jaw loosening.

He shakes his head, brows somehow furrowing deeper. “No you ain’t.” He abandons your jaw to turn for his bag, fetching his canister of water. You shiver in his absence. He holds it to your lips, helping you lean your head back just enough to swallow a few mouthfuls of water.

“Lucky you ain’t bleeding,” he says, his voice soft. “Probably just a concussion. We’ll get you back when you can move again.”

You swallow the remains of the water, easing your head back against the cool wall, stretching out your trembling legs in front of you. “What about the patrol route?” Your voice is low, but he seems to hear you just fine.

“Don’t worry bout that,” he reassures.

You glance over at him, trying to ignore the pounding of your skull. “But someone has to do it. This trail hasn’t been checked in almost-”

Joel gives you a look, one that shuts you up. It’s not unkind, only firm.

“Don't care,” he says, face and voice both solid. “Ain’t nothing more important than you being in one piece. No use doing the route when you’re falling over, sick.”

You manage a small smile, one that barely tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You’re so stubborn, Miller.”

He doesn’t answer, simply watches you like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. His hands find one of yours, cradling it between them like some valuable object. One that he’d rather hurt himself than see hurt.

You squeeze his hand, barely a twitch of your fingers, a faint breath of laughter escaping your lips. “You scare me when you’re like this.”

Joel's thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I scare myself, too.”

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Text

this post has me in a chokehold. pedro has to know what he’s doing. he cannot keep getting away with these pictures. 😫

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Text

Criminal record

Pairings: Dark!Ted Garcia x fem!reader

Content warnings: explicit 18+, noncon/duncon, big age gap (50s/20s, bratty reader, punishment, orgasm denial, creampies, power imbalance, abuse of power, blackmail & threats, spanking, leather belts, degration, humiliation, non consensual photography, manipulation, implied kidnapping.

Summary: After defacing a campaign billboard, the rebellious daughter of the local sheriff is arrested, only to be quitely released into the hands of the very man she targeted.

Word count: 2.600

The red paint was still wet when the cruiser's headlights hit you. You froze on the narrow gravel shoulder, can of spray paint dangling from your fingers, the sharp scent clinging to your skin. Ted Garcia's face stared back from theassive campaign billboard, or what was left of it.

You'd givin him devil horns, a black eye, a drawing of a cock on his left cheek and the words 'liar scum' sprawled across his pearly whites in big, dripping letters.

Classy, you thought. Subtle, too.

The cruiser door opened and slammed.

"Seriously?" Officer Danvers' voice cut across the quite like a slap. "You wanna explain this, miss sheriff's daughter??"

You gave him a bright smile as you turned around slowly, arms wide. "What? The man needed a makeover."

"Hands behind your back."

"Are you kidding me??"

Click. The cuffs bit cold into your wrists. "Come on, Danvers. I'm doing the county a favor. Nobody wants that greasy asshole leering at them from the side of the road."

"That greasy asshole has political friends," he muttered, pushing you tosards the back seat. "And you just committed vandalism. Again." You rolled your eyes and slumped into the car, head titling toward the window. "Tell Garcia I'm charging him for emotional damage. That face? Should be a public health violation."

Danvers said notjing, but you saw his jaw clench.

~~~

The holding room smelled like bleach and stale coffee. The deputy behind the desk barely glanced at you as you are marched in, cuffed and grinning like toy didn't have a care in the world. "Graffiti," Danvers muttered. "On Garcia's main billboard. She tagged it with her name."

"Hell yeah I did," you said brightly, lifting your chin. "No point in being anonymous when you've got talent." The deputy loved over at you over his glasses. "You proud of yourself." You shrugged. "Are you proud of covering for that snake?" Danvers grabbed your arm a little too tight. "Watch it."

You twisted out of his grip. "What? I can't call out a lying politician now? Wow. The first amendment's really going to shirt these days."

"Jesus Christ," the deputy muttered. "Shes worse than her father."

"Excuse you?" You snapped, stepping towards the desk. "Say that again, pencil-pusher-"

That did it.

Danvers grabbed your shoulder and shoved you toward the back. "Alright, you want to run your mouth, you can do it in holding. You'll cool off behind bars until morning." You jerked against the cuffs. "Don't bother calling my dad. He's too busy kissing the town's ass to care."

"Oh, we're not calling your daddy," Danvers said with a dry chuckle. Someone else already knows."

"What the hell does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

The cell door slammed shut behind you, cchoing cold off the concrete.

You turned aroundjust in time to see Danvers toss your phone into the bin and walk out without another world. You were left alone, cuffed, lips still tingling from the adrenaline and heart pounding with pride.

~~~

You were dozing on the cell bench when the metal door creaked open. "Wake up, sweetheart." You blinked. Officer Danvers. Looking oddly polite now. Calm. Not pissed, not smug... Just unreadable. You sat up slowly. "What, my dad finally crawl outta his own add and decided I'm worth the trouble?"

Danvers didn't answer. Just unlocked your cell and stepped aside. "I'm not going home, am I?" He gave a small shake of his head. "You're being released. Charges dropped. No paperwork filled." That gave you pause. "What?"

"No record," he repeated flatly. "Judge never saw your name. Didn't even hit the system."

You stood, heart beating a little fast. "Wait, how-" he gripped your arm and turned towards the hallway. "Ask your new ride."

Ten minutes later, you're in the back of a black unmarked car, your cuffs gone but your confusion mounting. The driver says nothing. Civilian clothes. Cheap aftershave. You recognize him, one of Garcia's errand boys. One of the quiet ones who always stay in the background.

Your stomach knots.

They didn't take to home.

They drive you across town, past the courthouse, past city hall and around the back of the county office building Ted's Champaign swallowed whole months ago. You'd vandalized that billboard less than twelve hours ago. And now you were being led up a private back staircase like some stolen package.

No question.

No explanation.

Only silence.

Until-

Click.

The door opens.

And there he is.

Ted Garcia.

Leaning against his desk like he owns the room. Because he does.

The loose. Sleeves rolled up. Coffee steaming beside a stack of untouched files. He dosent look surprised. Or angry.

He looks...

Interested.

Like you're an animal he's finally trapped.

"Close the door," he says,

It shuts with a soft click.

You don't move.

"Soo," you mutter, arms crossed, voice sharp despite the chill crawling up your spine. "Was kidnapping a part of the little campaign plan? Or just a fun little side hobby?" He smirks. "No kidnapping. Just a favor. I fixed something for you." You glare. "I didn't ask for anything."

"You didn't have to."

He pushes off his desk, slow and controlled, walking towards you, the lights overhead are low. Warm. Everything about the room feels too intimate. Too planned. "There was a little arrest report being written up. Photos. Booking logs. Witness signatures." He shrugs. "All gone now."

You stare.

"I dont- why would you do that?"

Ted cocks his head. "Because I don't want you behind bars, sweetheart."

You narrow your eyes. "No?"

"I want you exactly where I can see you."

He steps closer. Close enough for you to smell the spice of his cologne. Close enough to see the control behind those dark eyes. "You made a mess last night," he murmurs. "Painted my face. Called me a liar. A scumbag. Spray painted a dick on my face and your name so loud, half the county's been whispering about it all morning."

You swallow.

He reaches out, tucks a finger beneath your chin, tilts your face up. "And now? No charges. No file. You don't even exist on paper."

He smiles, soft and dangerous.

"That makes you mine, doesn't it?"

Your mouth goes dry.

"I'm not yours," you snap,

He chuckles lowly, "you will be."

He turns, walks slowly back to his desk. Pours himself another coffee. Takes a sip. "Sit," he says without looking at you.

You hesitate. "No"

Ted chuckles. "Still mouthing off? After I scrubbed toy clean like you were never even born?" He turns around. "You think that makes you powerful, sweetheart? That mouth?" You blink, jaw tight.

He moves again. This time he dosent arop. He grabs your wrist. Pulls toy across the room. You stumble forward. He bends toy over the edge of the desk, cheek hitting the polished wood. "You want to play criminal?" He growls against your ear. "Fine. But criminals pay debts. And you owe me."

Your breath catches as his hand slides up the back of your thigh and slipping under your skirt.

You squirm. "Dont-"

"I erased you," he hissed. "That makes mine to rewrite."

He presses his mouth to your ear. Tongue hot. "You ever want to ruin something of mine again," he whispers. "And I don't just fuck you over this desk. I'll do it in public. I'll put your picture on the next billboard."

"I own the cops, the court, and now I own you."

His hand grips your hip.

"Still wanna be brave?"

You don't answer.

But your body shivers.

And he feels it.

You knew the moment the office door clicked shut behind you that you'd gone too far. You weren't in a jail fell anymore. Toy weren't even in your daddy's house, where you could storm off and slam a door and feel like you had the last word. Now you were here, alone with Ted Garcia.

And he didn't look angry.

No, anger you could've handled.

But Ted looked disappointed. Calm. Cold. Like a man who'd already decided how this was going to go. And wasn't in a rush to get there. You know what I see when I look at you?" He said, voice low, close to your ear. "A spoiled, bratty little girl who's never been put in her place." You scoffed, even as your breath stuttered. "And I guess you think you're the man to do it?"

"Oh, sweetheart." His hand slid up your inner thigh slowly. "I know I am." You gasped when his fingers found your panties, already damp. He chuckled. "This is the problem with girls like you" he murmured. "So busy talking shit, you forget your body already gave you away."

He shoved your skirt up. Yanked your panties aside. His fingers dragged through your folds with infuriating slowness. When you whimpered, he stopped. "Don't get to come," he said flatly. "Not until I say so." You look over your shoulder. "You can't control that."

He smiled darkly.

"We'll see."

He left you like that for a moment, exposed, breathless, bent over his desk. Then you heard him unbuckle his belt. Slow, measured. Like a man savoring the punishment he was about to deliver. He unbuckles his belt with a sharp snap, the leather sliding through the loops of his pants. He wraps the belt around his knuckles, the buckle dangling menacingly as he brings his hand back and slaps your plump, soft ass cheeks sharply with the leather.

You yelp in surprise and pain as the leather belt connects with your soft flesh, leaving a bright print on your plump rear end as you bite your lip to stifle another cry. He lands another sharp slap with the belt on your plump cheeks, making them sting and turn bright red. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer to the edge of the table. "Count!" He demands harshly. But instead of counting obediently like he expects, you snap back.

"Like hell I will!..." You mutter defiantly, bracing your hands on the table as if ready for another slap. You arch your back, sticking your reddned bottom out higher, knowing it'll rile him up, instead of counting like a good girl, you add: "give me another one if you think you can handle it." You dare him, glancing over your shoulder with a stubborn expression. Ted's eyes darken with desire and frustration at your bratty attitude.

He growls low in his throat, clearly turned on by your defiance but also irritated by it. Without missing a beat, he raises the belt again and delivers another sharp slap across both cheeks simultaneously. "Dammit."

The tenth slap is particularly hard, making a loud cracking sound as the leather hits your already tender skin with little marks of blood. You can't help but whimper weakly, your legs shaking slightly as you try to hold yourself up on the table.

"Look at that fat ass, all red and marked." He sneers as he grabs a handful of your reddned flesh and squeezes hard, making you yelp. He pushes your legs apart with his knee, spreading you wide. "Open those legs, show me that pussy." You hesitantly spread your legs wider, your face flushed with humiliation. He reaches out and slaps your pussy hard, making you cry out and clamp your legs shut instinctively. He laughs darkly. "Keep those legs open,beat. Let me see that wet little cunt." You slowly spread your legs agsinx biting your lip hard to keep from crying out as he slaps your pussy again and again, each hit sending shockwaves of pain and humiliation through you. By the tenth slap, you're whimpering weekly,.your pussy swollen and red, dripping with arousal.

After the final slap, he drops the belt to the floor with a clatter, then grabs your hair roughly,.forcing your face down against the desk. Your cheek mashes against the cool wood, making you.let out a shuddering breath as tears skip down your face.

You then heard heard the zipper of his pants unzip and before you knew it, Ted slipped into you, it wasn't gentle.

He filled you in one brutal thrust, your cry muffler against the wood. He stayed there, deep, unmoving. "Still got that attitude?" He growled into your ear.

You clenched around him، hating how good he felt, hating how wet you were.

His hips slammed forward. "I asked you a question."

You bit your trembling lip, still defiant.

Slap. His palm landed across your add, hard.

You whimpered in pain, pathetically.

Thrust. Slap. Thrust.

He set a rhythm meant to bruise, hard, deep, relentless. Each thrust forcing moans and little gasps from your throat, no matter how hard you tried to bite them back. "Oty wanna be mouthy?" He grunted. "Go ahead. Tell me I can't break you." You whimpered instead, nails digging into the desk. "That's what I thought."

He fucked you like a man unbothered by feelings, like he was driving every ounce of attitude out of your spine. When your orgasm stared to build, sharp and sudden, you cried out.

"Please-"

He pulled out.

You sobbed.

"Not yet," he snapped. "Not until you ask properly.

"I- fuck-... Ted, please-"

"That wasn't begging." He shoved back into you and gave a punishing thrust. "Try again."

You didnt.

So he kept going. Slow now, torturous. Bringing you to the edge. Pulling back. Denying. Again and again. By the fifth time, you were a mess. Sobbing. Your thighs trembled, slick and dripping down to the floor. You didn't care anymore. You just needed it. Needed him. Needed release.

He pulled out and leaned down beside your ear, one hand tangled in your hair. "You ready to behave?" He asked, voice like silk and smoke.

You nodded, barely able to speak.

"Say it."

"...I'm ready to behave."

He titled his head.

"That's a good girl."

He slid back into you and fucked you hard, no pause, no restraint, the room was filled with the sounds of the lewd wet squelching that your pussy made. Your body seized around him, and you came with a broken sob, so intensense it blacked your vision for a moment. He followed with a groan, spilling into you, still grinding as if he wasn't finished even now.

When it was as over, he stayed inside you, breathing hard, a bead of sweat rolled down from the side of his temple.

"You're mine now," he said softly. "No police record, no way out. Just my name in your mouth and my come in your body."

You didn't argue.

Couldn't.

He'd fucked the fight out of you.

Exactly like he promised..

Your breathing was still uneven. Your pulse thundered in your ears. You were limp across his desk, skin flushed, red and slick with sweat, your panties hanging from one ankle, his seed drpping out of you.

You didn't fight when he pulled out.

Didn't flinch when he grabbed you by the hips and turned toy over, flipping you onto your back. He didn't say a word at first. Just looked at his handy work..

Spread out. Weak. Mouth parted. Thighs slick and open.. your eyes blinked up at him, dazed.

And he smiled.

Not the kind that meant comfort.

The mind that said he owned you now.

He reached into his back pocket.

He pulled out his phone.

You blinked. "...what are you?-"

Click.

The shutter flash made you flinch.

"Hey-"" you tried to sit up, but his hand pressed firmly against your sternum. "Don't move," Ted said, voice low and deadly smooth. "You look perfect."

Click.

Another photo. Your bare chest, your ruined lipstick, the tears still drying over your flushed cheeks. Your stomach twisted. "Ted- delete those."

He chuckled, scrolling casually.

"Oh no, sweetheart. These? These are insurance."

You stared up at him. "You can't-"

"I can," he leaned in. Click. A close up of your thighs. The mess he left between them. "And I will. You see, I learned something today."

His fingers brushed your cheek, mock-gentle.

"You're loud when you're defiant. But you're obedient when you're scared." He angled the phone again. "Smile for me." You turned your face away. He grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

"I said smile."

You didn't.

So he took the photo anywaym. Lips trembling, eyes glossy, your ruined expression caught forever in pixels.

Click.

He finallyowerwd the phone, satisfaction written all over him.

"You wanna ruin my billboards again?" He asked, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "You want to tell daddy what I did to you tonight?"

You didnt answer

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

"Try it. One word to anyone, and these go viral faster than your little tantrum on the highway." You choked on breath. "You're sick."

"No sweetheart" he kissed your temple mockinginly. "I'm smart."

He stood upright again, tucking his cock back inside his pants and putting on his belt, adjusting his shirt cuffs like nothing had happened. "Clean yourself up and get yourself out from the way you came in. I've got a meeting to go to." He glanced down at you, still bare on the desk, chest rising and falling.

You stayed still as he walked out the door.

He paused at the threshold, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh- and wear your red lipstick next time." His smile returned. Cold. Cruel. "You look prettier when I ruin it."

The door clicked shut.

And you were left trembling, humiliated, aching and soaked in the proof that you didnt win this time.

Note: holy shit this one was a yummy yummy one, lemme know if y'all want the next part 🤭😋

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Note

i want to drink old man joel's piss when his back's too bad to get up from bed and he's gotta go.

Helping Hand Mouth

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: piss kink, piss drinking, piss belly-inflation, oral m!receiving, assisted hand-job, praise kink, flashing/harassment from Joel, bimbo ish reader, pet names, Joel and other creepy men taking advantage of you, Joel pretends to be old, brief jealousy, not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel hears you before you even come in.

He stays motionless, lying in bed with his head turned towards the center of the bed. You try to softly close the door behind you, tip toeing over to his dresser. He could hear you gently placing little pills on the bedside table, pouring him a fresh glass of water from your pitcher.

Joel fakes a yawn, stretching over to his back. He blinks a few times before grinning with tired eyes. “Good mornin', sweet pea.”

You let out a little laugh. “Morning, Joel.”

He props his hand behind his back, sitting up to get a good look at you. You were the young help that frequented some of the older folks home to ensure they weren’t getting anywhere they didn’t need to be. Joel by no means needed anyone looking after him, but when he heard about this program, and saw you were the little minx out here stripping old men in bed and helping them shower, filling their bellies with hot food and serving their needs with a soft smile… well, Joel wanted in on a bit of that action. So he started really laying in heavy on his “age”. Truthfully, he was in better shape and mind then most men his age, but they didn’t need to know that.

You certainly weren’t protesting adding another client to your morning rounds.

“I have your pills here, and your breakfast will be waiting for you downstairs. Do you need help with getting your clothes on today?”

You’re busy shuffling his dirty clothes into your laundry basket. He bites his tongue when you grasp his cum-stained underwear, but you show no sign of noticing it before sticking it in with the rest.

“Ah, you know what? I think… yeah honey, if you wouldn’t mind it?”

This wasn’t the first time Joel needed help getting ready in the morning. You’d seen him stripped further of clothing a dozen times now. The last few, he called after you for some fresher underwear, dropping his boxers right into front of you. Claiming they were too cold, needing some warm hands to rub them up before he could stick them on. Old men get cold temps, he always said.

Joel did not look as old as he acted. The first time you saw his limp thick cock bobbing between his legs, you’d nearly dropped the cup of tea you were carrying for him. He was built like a working man, a hunter, a survivor. Perhaps looks were deceiving, you convinced yourself. He’d bared through it all: maybe life was catching up to him.

You were proud to be looking after him.

You help him sit up in his bed. He lets out a loud groan. “Easy there, pop,” you say, your hand planted firmly on his shoulder.

“Thank you, babydoll. I know you’re probably sick n’tired of me gettin’ worse each day…”

You shake your head. “Of course not!”

“M’gettin too old. S’lucky I have a gal like you around.” He pinches your chin with his thumb.

You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment. “I’d be happy to assist you with any task you need.”

Joel raises his brow. “Anything?”

“Absolutely.”

Noted.

It takes less than 2 weeks for Joel to go from asking you to help rub his back to sooth the ache in his loins.

“Honestly? It’s not the first time I’ve been asked,” you admit sheepishly.

Much to his astonishment, you had almost zero hesitation to agree to helping him jerk off. in fact, you were already steadily massaging his cock through his pants. “They other guys couldn’t get it up as easily without some warm hands getting them started.”

Joel’s cock springs free, leaking and stiff as a rock as it throbs a heathy amount of pre cum.

You tut slightly, glancing at him. He shrugs with a teasing expression. “S’always been that way, I guess.”

You work him over like a fucking magician. He can’t even keep his eyes open to watch as you pump both fists over his length, working his dick expertly. “Fuck sweetheart, those hands…” he groans, sighing contently. “You’re so good at this.”

“Thanks. The other guys don’t last as long as you do.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he exhales, leaning back and sinking further into your touch .

You were amazing, truly. It was like you were just making bread or folding clothes. A tinge of jealously floods Joel at the idea you had been practicing on so many men before this, taking advantage and using your skills for their selfish gain.

His chest tightens as you pick up your pace. you feel burly hands quickly grasp your wrists, slowing you down. “Like it …like edgin’ it.” He guides you to a new pace, pulling himself just before paradise so he can continue to watch you.

“What if—“ he swallows as your thumb swipes over his tip “—if I wanted you full time? I’m not…feeling’ myself lately.”

You jerk his cock steadily as you tilt your head. “Your vitals show all healthy and normal for your age—“

“For morale,” he says, his voice getting quiet. You can see the way he avoids your gaze. “I get… feeling’ awfully lonely lately. My kid all grown up… got no one left to warm the house. Company.” He slots his tongue between his lips as he focuses on the grip you have on his base. “You make such a… sweet companion in the house. F’my old soul.”

You let out a slight giggle. “I think I can manage that. You’re not so bad to take care of.”

He smirks broadly. “Fuck angel, put some spit on it, make it sloppy—m’close—“

You gather a generous load of saliva before drooling it over his cock, the warmth of it spread over your fingers and down his shaft as you pumped more firmly.

His hips can’t upward into your palms before he lets out a silent cry, stilling in your hands. Warm spurts of his seed shoot up, hitting your chin and then spilling onto your chest, dribbling down your cleavage. you do your best to ignore it, to focus on his pleasure like its your job, because it kind of is.

“Oooohhhh babydoll,” he groans, falling back to the bed. He eases the pace of your hands to slow calming strokes again. Your hands are covered in his cum as well as your shirt.

“Messy old man,” you tease.

He swipes the bit of cum still on your chin and pushes his finger into his mouth. “M’sorry made a mess of ya. Too pretty to be covered in old man cum.” Though, the way his eyes hungrily racked down your tits then back up, he didn’t believe that for one second.

You wash your hands before bringing a warm towel to clean him up before tucking his softening cock back in his underwear.

“Will that be all, Mr. Miller?”

No, come curl up on my lap and let me suck on those fat milkers till I fall asleep— “That’ll be all,” he says instead. “Thank you, sweet pea.”

“AUUGGGGRHHHH!!!”

You drop everything and run up the stairs, two at a time, then burst into Joel’s bedroom. “What’s wrong? What happened??” You ask, immediately rushing to his assistance. he was still in bed, the cover half overturned but his body wreathed in pain.

His hand was curled under his torso. “My fuckin—this damn back,” he groans, letting out an annoyed, tense breath. “I rolled to get up and—Jesus doll, I can’t get up…”

“Don’t move, lie back down and relax,” you coo, helping to shift a spare pillow under the small of his lower back. “I’ll bring you your meals and everything. I want you to stay in bed and rest today.” You go to shift the blanket back on, but he stops you.

You look up at him.

“Ah I—I’m embarrassed to admit it…I can’t… I need to…”

“What do you need Joel? I can get it for you.”

He lets out a chuckle, rubbing your hand with his thumb. “Oh babydoll, if only it were that simple. No I.. I need to get up—“

But you plant your hand firmly on his chest. “You’re not going anywhere. Now you tell me what you need right now or I’ll—“

“Need to relieve myself, sweet thing,” he sighs with reddened cheeks, avoiding your gaze.

You blink. “Oh...right.”

“Just a leak. Been full of all those liquids you gave me last night, and it feels like a damn might’a burst out of me any second now.” He attempted to sit up but lets out another devastating groan, finally falling back in bed defeatedly. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got something!” You turn and grab a bucket from the closet. “You can just go in this and I’ll dump it for you.”

Joel sighs. “I can’t—that’s… too embarassin’ f’me.”

You put your hands on your hips. “It’s just me, I won’t tell a soul.”

“No baby I can’t , don’t make me do that. Then it’ll splash and spill over the bed and floor n’ make a whole mess of things. You wouldn’t make me sleep in my piss soaked sheets now, would you?” He pleads.

You feel a twinge of sympathy. “I’m sorry Joel, I don’t know what else to do… I don’t want you moving a muscle and—“

“You ate breakfast today yet?”

You pause. “Um... no, not yet.”

“Well that’s mighty fine alright. I don’t suppose…” his eyes gesture to you then to the floor next to his bed.

“I don’t…?” you weren’t quite sure he was proposing.

“Those lips look awfully soft, bet they got a good suction. I seen the way you chug water too when ya thirsty, so I don’t think you’d make a mess of it…” he begins.

The realization hits you, and you have to stop yourself from making a visceral reaction. “Oh um, Joel I … I can’t do that , that’s—“

He shifts uncomfortably. “Doll I ain’t got much else a choice, I’m struggling to hold as is.”

Youre stood dumbfounded on the spot, with no time to even weigh what the hell was happening.

“Please? You said you’d do anything’ f’me, baby I need you real bad right now.” He flutters those pretty lashes over his sparkly brown puppy orbs at you.

You don’t know how, but your body moved on its own accord. You were practically hardwired to never refuse the needs of those who were incapable of helping themselves, no matter what it took.

But never in a million years did you anticipate this ‘need’ putting you on your knees by his bedside as Joel pulled out his length. It was still limp, but that didn’t stop the way it throbbed towards you.

“If it gets hard … just-uh, don’t choke,” he says awkwardly. “N’remember: you can’t spit it out. Don’t want your clothes or the bed getting soaked. Keep those lips air tight.”

He says it as if you were learning to play the clarinet. you inhale a big breath before nodding. “I—I’ll do my best.”

He rotates onto his side and pets your cheek below. “I know you will. You always do, my sweet good girl.”

It would feel better to hear such words if he weren’t already forcing his tip to your lips. You part them and accept his member, and no sooner did the warm of your mouth engulf him that he was already leaking. You had no time to react but to swallow around his cock as a flood of urine filled your mouth. No time to react to the disgusting taste before forcing it down your throat with the first gulp, then another. On instinct, you grasped the base of his cock to hold steady.

“Oooooohhhhhh bbabyyy,” he whines lowly, eyes fluttering closed as he relieves himself into your warm wet mouth.

There’s so much of it, you’re struggling to swallow fast enough. Joel Miller’s hot piss fills your cheeks repeatedly before begin forced down your gullet, bobbing in your throat from the sheer volume of it traveling to your stomach.

You squeeze your eyes closed, tears threatening to spill.

“Breathe through your nose, sweetheart,” he reminds you. You do as he says, remembering to swallow repeatedly as fresh air enters your lungs.

After a few dozen swallows, the taste isn’t too bad. He had slotted further back into your mouth so that it wasn’t squirting on your tastebuds, allowing you to swallow more quickly. It was like drinking a water hose with no off switch. His stream was steady, bitter, acidic, incredibly hot, and never wavering. Jesus, how much can a man piss in one morning?

It didn’t help that his member was getting thicker. It filled up more of your mouth, taking more room. You suctioned your lips tight around his girth. You were going to do this through and through. Not a fucking drop spilled. You focused on your breathing, in and out.

His stomach expanded with each satisfying hum he let out. “You’re doin’ so good f’me. I can’t believe how talented your mouth is.” He mumbles something like ‘I always knew’ but you barely catch it. Gulping his urine down was taking all of your concentration. the room was filled with the sound of liquid going down your esophagus. Your position was starting to feel uncomfortable. Knees began to ache. You sifted your hand to your belly and almost gasped: it had started to really get heavy and rounded, as if you’d just had a full breakfast.

Three minutes felt like a lifetime, but Joel Miller had a lot to give. You could finally feel it ebbing a bit. He gently placed his palm on the back of your head, preventing you from leaving the suckle of his cock too soon. You could tell from the way his stomach tensed that he was forcing as much out as possible, making sure to get his use out of you. spurts of pee shot to the back of your throat. You gladly sucked it all down, now having conquered the worst of the challenge.

It almost came as a surprise when the first shots of semen mingled over the urine. Thicker and less salty, but in no less quantity, you hummed around his thick cock and swallowed it along with the rest. Perhaps a bit more enjoyably so, as both you and Joel’s moans harmonized in the air with your sucking and gulping.

“That’s it—that’s enough,” he finally let you go.

You almost had to force yourself to pull away. His cock slipped out of your mouth, a trail of saliva coating his hard length to your lips.

You sputter out a cough, breathing in through your mouth for the first time. It takes you a moment with a hand on the mattress to steady your breathing, getting oxygen to your brain in larger batches. Its also the first time you’re conscious of the slick that pooled in your underwear.

When you lean back, Joel watches you, transfixed, as you cup your inflated belly. The skin was stretched taut. It had started to pudge out from your poor shirt that couldn’t stay strained over it anymore. You rubbed it soothingly, listening to the way it bubbled and sloshed full of his hot piss.

“You’re a dream, sweet pea, absolute dream,” he whispers. True to your word, you didn’t spill a single drop anywhere. You beamed proudly despite the drunk feeling in your mind. Your head swayed, eyesight hazy. The heft in your belly didn’t help either. Not until Joel offered his hand in front of you. You put yours in his as he assists you up. with a hand still wrapped around your bloated tummy, you stare at one another.

“Um, are you…was that…?”

“It was just right, beautiful. Just what I needed.” He plants a kiss right on your naval. “Thank you.”

You nod. “Okay, you just keep resting. I’ll be…downstairs if you need anything again.” And with that, you bowed out the room. The audible sound of your jostling tummy echoing in the room with each footstep until you were gone.

Joel falls back into bed. Unable to swipe the big grin on his face, he claps his hands together in the air.

He has no difficulty jumping up to his feet from the bed and walking naturally to the bathroom to wipe his limp dick clean with a tissue.

- - - -

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Note

i‘m so weak for “just the tip“ maybe with reed in thuyw? pretty please <3

just read the new chapter and thought it was amazing 💋

a/n: ooohhh, a classic!!! (also, side note, that gif ^ omg it is so professor reed and thuyw!reader coded, i can't take it)

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

okay, so imagine this as an alternative ending to the a long-awaited lesson fic

after that jaw-dropping pussyjob

cum all over your cunt

sticky sticky <33

the dude doesn't stop.....

like sure, he slows down for a bit, savouring his orgasm, getting every single drop out

and you think its just like a bit of cute intimacy that he's still groaning, still leisurely rubbing his cock against you

but then it just keeps going

except now his load has entered the pussyjob party, so just imagne the fucking noises that would produce, holy fuuuuuck

he's just like doing that thing where he's still got his fingers wrapped around himself, both to keep his cock glued against you, but also so that he can just thrust and, sure fuck his fist a bit, but have his tip just repeatedly part your petals, nudging at your clit like he's knocking on heavens door

and then he starts begging to put just the tip in

and your so fucking cockdrunk at this point that it's hard to keep your head on straight

maybe as an effort to sway you, part of his argument makes him just demonstrate to you how insane it would feel

like "come on, kiddo. it'd feel so fucking good," and then he'd take your breath away by just breifly dipping the veru tip inside, "see? doesn't that feel amazing?"

and so naturally you cave, but not before making him swear that if he puts the tip in, then it'll ONLY be the tip, nothing more

and sure, he promises you, but does he keep it?

naahh

i think it'd take him max a minute before he breaks it

before he can't help himself and just has to feel his entire cock enveloped by your warmth

240 notes · View notes

goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Note

Queer fic rec - Joel jerking it to gay porn for the first time... that's it.

ANON!! I love this request. Fitting to be my first fic this Pride month 💜 Thank you for sending it to me, I hope you like this one!

Construction Corner - Joel Miller

Warnings: Explicit 🔞🔥 🏳‍🌈 Masturbation, watching m/m porn with deep throating, rimming, anal play, gay panic (momentarily), oral (f receiving), PiV. [Light editing] Word count: 2.6K

read on AO3 | main masterlist

Sarah is gone for the weekend, leaving Joel with some rare free time for himself. That’s how he finds himself here. Friday night with the curtains closed in his living room, a couple of Blockbuster rentals on his coffee table. The adult flicks come in white, unmarked VHS boxes - “for your discretion” - which is why he didn’t pay too much attention to what he grabbed; he knows the shelves that generally hold stuff he likes to get off to. It’s why he doesn’t wait to see the intro once he hits play, and instead gets himself another cold beer.

By the time he settles in on the couch, the camera has just finished panning over a construction site and is now zooming in on someone putting down lumber. “Can’t get away from work for a damn second,” Joel mutters as he takes a swig of his beer, contemplating whether to switch out the tape for another one - it’s not like he’s exactly thrilled to see yet more of a workplace much like his own.

The stunted dialogue doesn’t really register with him as he watches two guys talk - both dressed in jeans, the younger one without a shirt and clearly sweating as he’s holding a rotary tool. Craftsman, or Milwaukee, Joel guesses as he squints to make out the brand name. A little nagging voice in his head bitches there’s really no reason to whip out a Dremel tool for that pile of unfinished lumber on screen.

“Wouldn’t be there for that job,” he mutters to himself as he takes another drink of his beer, trying to stop himself from fact checking equipment in a damn porn movie. “And that’s not a quarter inch pip—OH.” He nearly chokes on the hoppy beverage, barely able to avoid a coughing fit as he stares at his television screen.

Young Guy is on his knees for Older Boss Guy, tugging down the man’s unzipped jeans and groaning as a seriously big dick is revealed to him.

For a split second Joel wonders if the kid at Blockbuster pulled a prank on him by swapping out the tapes. But, no - it must have been an accident with these unmarked VHS boxes. His instinct is to reach for the remote so he can turn off the movie and put in one of the other tapes. But his mouth goes dry as he watches Young Guy slowly lick the older man’s cock, the camera lingering on every detail.

Base to tip, his tongue tracing the thick vein on that large dick, and oh - Joel bites his lip hard when he notices the man is uncut. Just like him. Thick but trimmed pubes, yet another thing he hardly ever sees in porn. Maybe it’s the novelty of that, or that it’s been a very long time that he’s seen someone’s mouth on a cock that - minus the length - reminds him of his own. But when he sees the younger guy greedily suck on the fat dick head, drops of saliva sloppily sliding down the length, he feels himself twitch unmistakingly in his boxers.

By the time that cock is buried into the guy’s throat, Joel’s hand is on his sweats, stroking himself through the soft fabric - his heart racing a hundred miles an hour, as if someone could suddenly catch him in the act and ask him what the hell he was doing.

What is it exactly that he is doing?

It’s fine.

This is fine, he tries to tell himself. He’s just… wound up.

It’s been too long since he’s dated anyone, or even had a one night stand. The last time was with that pretty woman who kept flirting with him at Sarah’s school. After they hooked up, she told him that ‘technically’ she was still married, but she was no longer attracted to her husband - which was a level of drama he didn’t want to get into, especially not since their kids were in the same class. It had been over a year ago, maybe two at this point, as there was hardly any time to breathe between work and raising Sarah, and all the never ending chores.

He just needs to get off. Really, really badly.

That’s all.

Rub one out quickly because he’s too tired to get up and change the tape.

That’s all this is.

“Goddamnit.” He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath while staring at the tv, but when Young Guy cups Boss Guy’s balls in his hand, the air just whooshes out of Joel’s lungs with an embarrassingly loud sound. Both actors moan, and Joel’s breathing gets heavier when he sees Young Guy’s mouth travelling south, back down the throbbing length. Fuck. Is he gonna…

He watches the kneeling guy lick those heavy balls, teasingly and messily. He sucks one into his mouth, then tries to fit the rest of the ballsack into his mouth - and somehow, that is the thing that just fuckin’ breaks Joel and chases the last bit of hesitation out of his head.

He pushes his sweats down quickly, cock hard and leaking against his stomach as he leans over to grab some lotion to help him out. The cool creaminess makes him hiss for a moment as it touches his hot skin, but as he generously spreads it over his dick, everything immediately feels so, so much better now that he’s giving into it.

The tight fit of his hand around his cock is both relief and torture, and he roughly strokes himself up and down, matching the pace he’s seeing on the television. It has only been a few minutes, but he is achingly hard already, more turned on by porn than he has been in a long, long time.

He gasps when the guy on the screen teases the other man’s foreskin, clearly riling him up and then backing off again - until he seems to have pushed him too far.

With a growl, Boss Guy grabs the younger man by his hair and tugs him up to his feet. But before Joel can be disappointed about the interrupted blowjob, the camera angle switches and shows Younger Guy being shoved back against the wall. Leaving no doubt about who is in charge, Boss Guy’s large hand is immediately wrapped around the base of the slighter man’s throat - not choking him, but nevertheless a clear display of dominance that makes shivers run down Joel’s spine.

Young Guy whines as he stares back at the older man. His chest is heaving as he fumbles to undo his own jeans; not just pulling his cock out, but shoving his pants all the way down.

“Please. Fuck my ass.”

They’re the first words said during the movie that actually register with Joel, and his cock once again responds with resounding affirmation. On the tv, the guy is roughly being put on all fours, and then Boss Guy is on him like a starved man. Strong hands kneading his ass, spreading him wide to admire his hole - and when the Young Guy whines again, it’s because there’s a tongue up his ass and a hand firmly wrapped around his cock, starting to jerk him off.

“Jesus.” Joel’s breathing stutters as he’s enraptured by the view, his hips bucking up as his mind is reeling - hell, even imagining it. How it would feel to be pushed down like that and have someone eat his ass like that. Tongue, lips, fingers… He bites his lip hard as he watches a thick finger slip into the guy’s ass, making Younger Guy moan loudly, and all of a sudden Joel is mentally transported back to a holiday fling he’d had in his twenties.

She - he couldn’t remember her name - was a lot more forward than he was used to. Barely an hour after she had made the first move at him in a bar, they were fucking at her apartment. She’d slipped the tip of her finger into his ass, right when he was about to come down her throat, making him orgasm so hard that he thought he was going to black out for a moment. It had been exhilarating, the shock of the sudden surprise lessened by the amount of alcohol he had consumed - and it had never happened again afterwards. He probably hadn’t even thought about it anymore…

…until now.

Until he watched the guy on the screen arch his back, drunk on pleasure as Boss Guy continues to eat him out and open him up. How Younger Guy grabs his own dick, starting to jerk himself off as he surrenders to how the other man handles him, getting him ready to get fucked.

Joel’s breathing is heavy, hips thrusting up as he fucks his fist hard, unable to stop the thoughts that are suddenly embedded in his mind. Which one of the two guys did he wish he could be? The one getting the rimjob of a lifetime, or the older, broader guy who held him down and was about to take him?

He curses as the fantasy slams him over the edge much faster than he expected, and with a loud groan he spills his seed all over his hand and sweatpants, barely avoiding the couch. His heart races as he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen, seeing Boss Guy make the Young Guy cry out with his fingers buried into him - and suddenly it’s too much, all of it, right there.

He fumbles for the remote and turns off the tv, his hand suddenly trembling. As post-nut clarity sinks in, he feels a wave of anxiety wash over him that he hasn’t experienced before. It crawls through his chest, flowing his throat and brain, shoving aside the euphoria of his orgasm. Scoffing at him about what he just did - about what got him so fucking turned on. The nerve wrecking doubt of whether he should report it’s the wrong tape when returning the VHS, or… not.

‘Just play dumb’, that little voice at the back of his brain whispers. ‘Do you really want to have a conversation with the rental guy about how you just got off to gay porn?’

He drains the rest of his bottle of beer, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. But they only grow louder, questioning him (‘You hit your mid thirties and suddenly you’re into dick? Are you having an early midlife crisis?’ ), reminding him of all the times in an average week he hears gay slurs all around him. Mr. Adler’s vocal dislike “of those city boys”. Tommy’s asshole friend at the hardware store - shit, Tommy. What the hell would his brother think of him if he knew what he just jerked off to?

Another beer later, still trying to suppress the panic in his brain, he finds himself staring at Tess’ phone number. It’s been a long time since they last hooked up, especially since she’d been pretty seriously involved with someone for a while. But that relationship had recently ended - plus, in addition to living pretty close to him, she is one of the few people he knows who wouldn’t mind a last minute thing on a Friday night.

He sighs as he hits the dial button, his skin crawling when he looks over at the stacked VHS tapes on his coffee table. Sure, he doesn’t have to call her - but the other option is to just sit here and probably get more anxious about the whole thing. He just had to shake it off, spend some time with her, even if it’s just to reassure himself that *that* is what he is actually into.

“Hey, it’s Joel,” he says, eyes still closed and his head tipped back against the couch. “Yeah, all ‘s fine. What are you doing right now?”

Her laugh, always somewhere between cheerful and mocking, sounds so good to him right now. As he suggests where to meet up, he can’t help but think back of the last time they fucked - it was also a weekend that Sarah wasn’t home, except for that time Tess had ended up at his doorstep. And in his bed, for most of those two days. He almost didn’t go into work that Monday, physically worn out, but god - it had been good.

This will be good, too. Drinks, then her place. No VHS tapes to think about or questions to ask himself.

—-------

Somehow, less than two hours later, he’s right back on his doorstep again.

The beer was good. Tess had been more than fine - that perfume he always likes on her had been calling his name, whispering all kinds of promises. Reminding him this was basically a done deal. It felt good when her hand moved to rest on his thigh after the second drink, her eyes much too observant as always, reading him like a book. “My place?”

Plain, simple, uncomplicated and direct; Tess all the way. Exactly what he wanted. They made out in the parking lot, pressed against his truck, and when Tess had grabbed his hand and guided it into her underwear, he had lost all sense of restraint.

Joel ate her out rough and fast on the backseat, groaning against her pussy when she came by his tongue alone. Once they made it to her place, they fucked in the bedroom, and it was good - but it wasn’t… the same as usual.

Even when he was buried deep inside of her, that goddamn video was on his mind. How Boss Guy had been preparing the Young Guy to get fucked, opening him up with his fingers and mouth. And, Jesus Christ, he’d blown his load right into Tess before he even realized it. First time since he was a teenager that he had fucked up so badly. He’d been too embarrassed to stick around, even though she didn’t make a big deal out of it, and that’s how he found himself home again.

Shower, then bed, he decides - especially when his watch signaled that it was close to midnight already. He scrubs his skin hard in frustration with his body wash, leaving the shower on too hot for too long just to get distracted, but once he lays down in his cool bed, he finally feels more balanced. Ready for sleep.

Even after twenty minutes. Thirty.

He’s not sure what time it is when he goes back downstairs.

The video tape is still in the VHS player, almost taunting him. As if it knows Joel better than he knows himself.

“Just five minutes,” he tells himself as he settles in on the couch, turning the tv on and hitting play on the VCR remote again.

Maybe ten at the most.

Just to see if they do fuck.

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dividers by @saradika!

Heads up to folks who dropped some love on the announcement post (and some of y'all who might be interested!) (sorry if I tagged you while you already saw it, I forgot to do this last night):

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Text

JACKRABBIT!

|| pedro masterlist || update blog || inbox || taglist || ao3 ||

｡𖦹°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

｡𖦹°‧➵ WC: 3.4k

｡𖦹°‧➵ ANON SAYS: Hi Nat! I love your work. I would like to request a Joel Miller fic where he finds a sex toy on a raid and teaches user how to use it. I hope this isn’t weird lol. It’s fine if you don’t want to write it!

｡𖦹°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, set post outbreak, swearing, drinking, smoking, established relationship…but it’s not like a RELATIONSHIP, unspecified age gap, jackson!joel mmmhhh, sex toys, masturbation, joi but for the girls, pussy pronouns, dirty talk cause he’s old and gross, reader is inexperienced but not juvenile, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡𖦹°‧➵ NAT’S NOTE: anon…i need to just kiss you right on your brain. this is a revolutionary idea…it’s not weird at all! i just about died when i saw it in my inbox, like i had to sit down for a while. you really did something with this one. this is also so not related but this is one of the tiniest titles i’ve had on a fic in a while, it looks so wrong to me LMAO i need long titles to survive but this one was just too cute so i made an exception. hope y’all love it!

dividers by @saradika-graphics! joel icon by angel @iamasaddie!

joel has something he wants to show you...

You’re not sure what you were expecting when Joel told you he had something to show you.

You thought about it a little on the short walk to his house, breath puffing out like little clouds in the cold air as snow crunched under your boots.

Maybe a book he’d thought you’d like to add to the overflowing shelf in your room, all stuffed with the other books he’d quietly left on your kitchen table like they weren’t really gifts. Dog eared, dusty, the pages yellowed by time.

Maybe an old shirt that wasn’t too torn or eaten up by moths. Clothes aren’t hard to come by in Jackson, but you figure it’s the thought that counts.

Hell, maybe even another knife for your collection—Joel likes giving you those.

You definitely weren’t expecting this.

A heavy looking, curved wand with a fat head and a thick cord wrapped around the handle. He tossed it on his bed next to you like it’s nothing, like a can of peaches or some new ammo he wants to show off.

You blink down at the thing, confused. You look up, staring at Joel where he’s standing a little ways away with your brows pinched together. “What’s all this?”

Joel cocks his head, his lips tugged up in a smug grin. “Old folks would call that a vibrator.”

“That’s not what I mean, dumbass.” You roll your eyes, scoffing. “I mean what is it doing here?”

“Well,” Joel starts, overly serious. “You see, some ladies, they’d usually buy one of these and shove them down–”

"I'm not a clueless fucking virgin, Joel." You cut him off with a sniff, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively. "I know what a vibrator does. I just never got a chance to use one, what with the world ending when I was a teenager and all, you know?"

Joel knows for a fact that you're no virgin, he took care of that little issue a long while ago.

There’s a lot of firsts that Joel’s helped you tick off over the last couple years, ever since he found you at that ghost town back in Pittsburgh. Your first real shot of something clear and mean. Your first cigarette. Your first fuck.

You wouldn’t call what you and Joel have now a real “relationship” by any definition of the word. Not to Ellie. Not to Jesse. Not to yourself. You’re sure Joel would have a flat out aneurysm if you ever called him your boyfriend.

It’s simple. You go to him when you want. He comes to you when he needs. You let him touch you like he means it, sometimes you even stay the night when he’s feeling charitable enough.

“Found it in an old stash house out past the dam.” Joel shrugs, making his way over to the blue armchair in the corner of his room. He sits with a quiet grunt, sinking into the plaid cushions. “It was still in the box, brand new. Thought you might want it.”

Your eyes drop back down to the toy, the white contrasting with the deep green of Joel’s sheets. You pick it up to feel the weight of it in your hand, fingers trailing along the smooth silicone. It’s soft, softer than you thought it’d be—lighter too.

You think back to the group of girls that whispered during your Algebra 1 class, giggling about some grown up shop they found in a bigger city. The dirty haul they came back into town with sparking lots of colorful conversation that you definitely weren’t supposed to hear, despite how loud they were about it.

Joel clears his throat, tearing you from your thoughts. “Go on then,” he says, jerking his chin impatiently. “You wanna try it, don’t you?”

You swallow, mouth going a little dry as you thumb over the switch.

You do want to try it. You’ve always wanted something like this. Something constant and strong—something that doesn’t tire out, doesn’t get distracted, doesn’t stop until you’re shaking and sobbing and wrung out.

You’ve got one of those things now, sitting in a chair about five feet away from you.

The one in your hand might be just as fun, you wouldn’t know.

There’s only one way to find out.

You look up at him again. Joel’s watching you with that lazy hunger he always has. His jaw working like he’s already rolling the taste of you around in his mouth. His eyes are dark, you can tell even from where you’re at.

Fuck it.

“Alright.” You shuffle backwards up the bed until you’re high enough to lean against his pillows. You drop the toy long enough to tug your thin sleep pants down your legs.

There’s a fleeting part of you that wants to drag this out, to tease. The other part of you, the one that thinks with the steady arousal pulsing to life between your legs, wants to get on with it.

So you bite your lip and plug it in, the ancient powerstrip he dragged in from the garage by his bed sparking faintly as the wand hums to life in your hand—deep and low and almost intimidating in how powerful it sounds.

“Jesus,” you whisper, trying it against your wrist. The vibration is intense, direct, not like anything else you’ve ever felt. It’s so much. You look over at him, suddenly timid. “What do I even do with it? There wasn’t a user guide in that box or something?”

“It’s straightforward enough.” Joel leans back deeper in his chair, like he’s settling in for a show. “Figure it out, baby. You’re smart.”

You arch your brow. “You just gonna sit there?”

Joel shrugs, smirking. “Sugar, this is the best seat in the house.”

It’s a terrible line, terrible. You want to roll your eyes, to make fun of him. That’s only stalling, and neither of you want that.

“Start slow,” Joel mutters, voice thickening just a little.

You chew the inside of your cheek and press the toy to your thigh first, just to get a feel of the vibration. It’s intense, buzzing right down to the bone. You leave it there for a beat, sliding it up and down your skin until goosebumps pebble up in its wake. Your stomach clenches with need, with interest.

You hook your index finger into the thin cotton of your panties, pulling them to the side enough to bare your pussy to the warm air of Joel’s bedroom. You can hear the quick inhale from the other side of the room, the creak of wooden armrests under a tight grip. You don’t fight the smug smile that pulls at your lips.

The smug feeling is short lived, laughably so. The second you press the toy to your clit—just a whisper of vibration, even on the lowest setting—your hips twitch, breath catching. “Shit.”

Joel’s mouth tugs into a crooked grin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, breathless all of a sudden. “No, I–I got it.”

“Try small circles,” Joel says, voice gone low and smoky. “Little higher than that.”

You do, dragging the head of the toy up to rock it over your clit slow and gentle like he told you to. It mostly just feels…fine. Not quite right. Not like Joel. Not like his mouth. Not like the calloused pads of his thumbs when he spreads you open.

You’re not shy by any means, not with him. Not anymore. He’s already had you in more ways than you can count—stuffed together in a sleeping bag as you got felt up by practied fingers, bent over the kitchen table, riding his thigh in the bath, panting against his neck while he fucked you into the floorboards.

This feels different somehow. Embarrassing, almost. Your own hands trembling as you try to keep the vibrator steady, the hum too much and not enough all at once.

You press it closer. Try to angle your hips, shift just right. It slips away too easily, or the angle’s all wrong, or maybe it’s just you—too tense, too eager to please.

Joel watches you flinch, watches your thighs clench and strain as you huff. The warmth swirling through your gut is there, but it's a different kind of heat. It’s all edge, no release. The tension inside of you winds and winds but doesn’t break.

You sigh in frustration, dropping your head back. “Fuck.”

“Don’t make a fuss now.” Joel scolds. “You need to ease off. You’re workin’ it all wrong, can’t just mash it on there like that.”

“Don’t say it like that.” You cut your eyes to him, glaring. “I’m not “mashing” anything, this stupid thing just doesn’t work.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re chasin’ it too hard,” he says, softer this time. “Relax, baby.”

“I am relaxed,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

“I can see you, kid.” Joel snorts, amused. “Bullshit you’re relaxed. It ain’t even seen you this tense around goddamn gunfire”

You groan miserably and pull the toy away, your arm falling limp so it can buzz uselessly against Joel’s comforter. “This is stupid.”

Joel sucks his teeth, shaking his head like you’re a bratty child who can’t understand the simple thing he’s asking of you. He rises from the chair slowly, crosses the room in a few strides. “I have to do everything around here myself, huh.”

You scoff, but your pussy clenches weakly the closer he gets. “I can always leave if it’s such a big grievance.”

He sits next to you with a huff, all that muscle and broadness scooting closer. The mattress dips under his weight enough that it has you sliding closer to him. “Shut the hell up and come here, smartass.”

Big hands settle on either side of your hips before you can move, dragging you back until you're snug between his thick thighs. His chest is warm and alive under your back, the same as his hands when he slings your legs over his.

Joel takes the wand from your hand. You let him. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he murmurs, peering down between your legs. “So fuckin’ wet and you can’t even get her off. This what you wanted, baby? Me to do all the work for you?”

“You like doing all the work,” you snap, still a little touchy.

Joel just smirks, dragging the toy down your thigh. You suck in a short breath, hands clutching the rough denim of his jeans.

He slides the toy lower, dragging the head between your folds like he’s getting acquainted with the shape of you all over again. He starts slow. Teasing. Circling your clit but not pressing down, just letting the buzz brush softly. You jolt, hips twitching.

“No ma’am. Quit your wrigglin’,” he says, his other hand squeezes your thigh in a clear warning. “You asked for this. You’ll take it.”

Every inch of you wants to fight him, just to be a real asshole. You’ve had enough of that for one night, now you just want to come. You force yourself to relax, slowly letting the tension leave your muscles one by one.

Joel notices, humming encouragingly. You can feel the rumble of it against your spine. “Atta girl.”

He tosses an arm around your waist, pulling you closer while his other hand brings the wand back to your clit, not gentle now—confident, giving you the pressure you wanted. The kind that makes your pussy jolt and your chest go tight. The sound you make is pathetic, breathy and broken.

“Oh,” you whisper. The heat you couldn’t quite coax to life earlier flares now, quick and electric and embarrassingly easy under Joel’s experienced touch.

“There she is,” Joel breathes, breath fanning over your temple. “Feels better already, doesn’t it?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. His other hand slides up your shirt, palm spreading warm over your belly, keeping you grounded while the toy works its way through your nerves like a live wire.

“Joel,” you gasp, rolling your hips up, chasing it anyway, fighting his grip.

“Thought you said it didn’t work,” he mutters with a grin, mouthing at your jaw. “Sure feels like it’s workin’ now, pumpkin.”

Your body shakes, your thighs trembling. You whimper something incoherent and he shushes you, not to be sweet, but because he wants to hear you fall apart properly.

“You keep it right there,” he orders, dragging the toy a fraction higher until it hits just right. You cry out, jerking forward, but he wraps his arm tighter around your belly and holds you there, strong and steady.

“Joel—fuck—it’s too—”

“It ain’t too much,” he growls. “It’s perfect. Just stay still, just like that.”

You feel it coming fast, harder than you expected—a coil of pleasure that sneaks up and grabs you by the throat, all breath and sound and stuttering pleasure. You buck against his hold and he laughs, low and pleased.

Joel leans in close, his nose brushing over the sweaty skin of your throat. “You gonna thank me for bringing you such a nice present, darlin’? That was mighty kind of me, wasn’t it?”

Your slick lips part on a soft moan, your hips twitching up off the mattress uncontrollably. Your nails dig into his thighs, your chest heaving. “Than–fuck! Jesus.”

He coos, a soft noise that’s more mocking than reassuring. He presses a kiss to your jaw. “Words are hard ain’t they baby? You’re so easy you let a little vibrator rubbin’ on this pussy get you dumb?”

You sob, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder. You turn your face, bury it in the crook of his neck to muffle a whine. “Joel—”

“Come on, baby.” Joel circles the wand over your clit faster, your slick making the glide of silicone that much better. “It ain’t that hard, just two little words.”

You can’t form them. Can’t think. Can’t breathe, barely—your hips twitch again, every nerve ending centered on the hum between your legs. You’re trying so hard to stay still like he told you to, but your body’s betraying you, chasing after the pressure like it’s oxygen.

“I c–can’t,” you gasp, half-sobbing into his neck. “Joel, I can’t, it’s too—too much, I need—”

“What you need is to thank me,” he growls, not relenting. “You come without it, you come on my cock, on my fingers, on my fuckin’ thigh—but you get one little toy, and suddenly you forget your big girl manners?”

Your whole body jerks when he tilts the wand just slightly. It presses right where you need it, a cruel, perfect angle. You’re soaked, squirming, and you can’t breathe right—your breath just punches out of you in useless little gasps.

“Thank you,” you finally whimper, and it’s so quiet, so desperate that it makes Joel groan.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he rasps, his lips dragging hot over your cheek. He sounds so proud, so adoring. It should be funny, out of place when he’s torturing you with a vibrator he trekked through snow with just to give it to you—but it only has the coil inside you snapping.

That’s all it takes.

You cry out when it hits you—sharp and overwhelming like a sucker punch. Your back arches off the mattress, thighs closing around his wrist, soaked pussy pulsing hard against the toy. Joel keeps it there, keeps it steady while you ride it out, groaning low as he watches you fall apart.

“That’s it,” he rasps, voice all grit and gravel and satisfaction. “There she is. You just needed a little help.”

The toy keeps buzzing—he doesn’t let up, not yet. He holds it steady while you jerk and moan, overstimulated and dripping, every muscle trembling. You whimper, weakly trying to push his hand away.

“Shhh,” Joel soothes, lips brushing your temple. “Just ridin’ it out, baby. I got you.”

You breathe through it, clinging to him, and finally—finally—he lifts the toy away, flicking it off with a quiet click.

You’re wrecked.

Panting. Slick between the thighs. Legs still twitching where they’re splayed over his lap.

Joel drops the toy somewhere off to the side and smooths a hand over your stomach, holding you there like you might float away if he lets go. “Well,” he says, smug as ever. “Think it works just fine.”

You let out a hoarse little laugh, still catching your breath. “Fucking asshole,” you whisper, voice shot.

Joel leans in and presses a kiss over your temple. His hands smooth up and down the insides of your thighs, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing over your pussy. You flinch. Sensitive. His lips curl against your skin.

Two can play at this game.

You tilt your head, eyes barely open as you mutter, “I think we’ll use it on you next.”

Joel stills. His brows lift, his mouth pulls into a slow, skeptical smirk. “The hell we will.”

You grin, even though your body still feels like it’s made of jelly. “What, too chicken?”

“No,” he huffs. “I just don’t trust you not to get your little petty revenge.”

“Oh, I’d be so gentle with you,” you say innocently, voice low and teasing. “Promise.”

Joel snorts. “You couldn’t even work the damn thing.”

“I learned a lot in the last ten minutes.”

Joel pinches your hip with a tsk. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

You look over your shoulder at him, catching the sharpness in his eyes.

You smile sweetly. “Who says I can’t?”

Joel just laughs, shaking his head. Your smile doesn’t fade as you tuck your face back into his throat, breathing him in.

You’ll give him five minutes.

MINI NAT'S NOTE: the fics i've posted recently being some requests? i'm showing growth y'all. i'm being so tumblr.com it's crazy. see? i do the stuff you guys want, i care about you guys...talking to YOU rude ass anon that came in my inbox a few days ago. yes i DO answer these. also me posting this many fics in basically one month is crazy work i have no idea what’s gotten into me. i got bit by the writing bug, or maybe it really is easier to just not write over ten thousand words all the damn time for literally no reason…i guess we’ll never know.

thank you so much for reading, love you!

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

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Drunk on her

Pairings: Oldman!Joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content 18+, oral sex (f!receiving), pussydrunk!joel, overstimulation, power dynamics, possessive!Joel, addiction, dirty talk, pussy pronouns.

Summary: Joel is very drunk tonight, but not on whiskey. On you.

Word count: 500

Joel wasn't drunk on whiskey tonight. Wasn't high off cigarettes or Texas heat.

No, he was drunk on her.

On the warm, velvet-slick sweetness between her thighs. His broad shoulders were locked between her legs, keeping her wide open while his stubble scratched and kissed the insides of her thighs, tongue lapping at her like she was made of fucking honey. You squirmed against the sheets, the back of your thighs sticky with sweat, your fingers tangled in his graying hair. "J-Joel," you gasped, breath stuttering.."Joel, baby- fuck, it's too much."

He just groaned into your cunt like a man denied water for years. His voice was gravel, his drawl thicker molasses. "You hush now, sugar. Lemme eat." His tongue dragged upward in a long, messy stripe, mouth latching onto your clit like he'd die without it. The man moaned against your pussy, lips swollen, beard soaked with your slick, hands pressing your hips down as you writhed beneath him.

"Shit, how the hell's it feel this good?" He slurred like he was drunk. "You tryin' to kill me, babygirl? Givin' me this sweet little thing like it's not addictive?"

Your legs trembled, breath catching as his tongue circled your clit over and over again..he wasn't gentle, he was hungry. Like he hadn't had a proper meal in days and you were it. Every swipe of his tongue, every mess sick, was greedy and shameless.

Joel fucking devoured you.

He pulled back for a split second, just long enough to look at your soaked pussy and grin like a man gone mad. "Goddamn," he drawled. "Look at this sweet fuckin' pussy. Drippin' all over my face like it missed me." You whined, hips twitching up toward him and he chuckled darkly. "Yeah, that's right. She missed me. Missed this tongue, didn't she?" He kissed your clit like it was his favorite goddamn thing in the world. "She knows who owns her."

Then he dove back in, no teasing this time, no breaks, just pure, sloppy, addicted attention. His nose pressed against your mound, tongue fucking info you as his fingers gripped your ass and pulled you in deeper like he couldn't get close enough.

"Mm, tastes like a fuckin' dream," he moaned, practically incoherent, eyes shut as if he could memorize the shape of you with just bis tongue.

He was pussy-drunk. Gone. Dazed. Ripped straight from reality and drowning in toy. You cried out, thighs shaking, voice breaking. "J-Joel- I'm gonna- fuck- gonna cum!-"

But he didn't stop. Didn't slow down. If anything, he held you harder, face buried even deeper, tongue flattening against your clit and pulsing as your orgasm crashed down on you like a wave of fire. You sobbed, back arching, legs trembled around his ears.

He groaned like your orgasm fed him, like the sound of your moans was his favorite damn song.

And even after you came, even after your thighs quivered from overstimulation, he kept going.

You whimpered, tried to pull back and he growled, a deep, primal sound. Gripping your hips tighter. "Ain't done yet. Don't you dare run from me. This pussy got more in her- I know she does."

You shivered, overwhelmed, but melting all over again. And when his fingers replaced his tongue, sliding insjde you slow and deep while he sucked your clit again, you knew the man wouldn't stop until you were passed the fuck out.

He was drunk on you. And there wasn't a rehab on earth that could fix him.

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

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the five favorite positions of pedro pascal ── .✦

cw: explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, deep intimacy, fingering, clit stimulation, soft obsession, he’s just so in love with you

#1 – the rocket woman on top, on the couch Pedro loves watching you ride him — hips rolling slow, tits bouncing, mouth parted in pleasure. One knee on the couch, the other foot on the ground, hands braced behind you, fucking him deep. He grips your ass and groans every time you take him all the way in. “Look at you,” he says, totally gone. “You ride me like it’s the only thing you were made for.” You make him lose track of his name, and he kisses your neck after like you just saved his life.

#2 – the catapult legs over his shoulders, edge of the bed You’re spread open and vulnerable, and he’s obsessed. Pedro leans over you, supporting his weight on strong arms as he thrusts hard and deep, your legs hooked over his shoulders. He watches your face twist in pleasure, hips slamming into you over and over. “You fuckin’ take it,” he growls, “come on my cock, hermosa.” He knows exactly where to aim. You come fast. You come loud. And he kisses your forehead while you shake, whispering, “you’re mine.”

#3 – the orgasm generator chair sex, wild riding He’s gone the second you straddle him. Legs wide on either side, hips resting on the arms of the chair, and Pedro? He’s gripping your ass and begging. “Please, baby. Please ride me.” You bounce, you grind, you lean forward and ask, “you like being my little seat?” and he whimpers. His eyes roll back, his cock twitches, and he comes with his face buried in your neck like a man absolutely wrecked.

#4 – the eagle missionary but better Face to face, arms caging you in, Pedro thrusts slow and deep — hitting the spot every time. Your legs are bent and pressed close to your chest, wrapped around his waist, his mouth ghosting over yours. “I know your body,” he murmurs. “I know what makes you fall apart.” He makes love to you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. And afterward, he stays inside, forehead to yours, whispering things like “you’re my favorite place in the whole fuckin’ world.”

#5 – the cat slow grinding, full-body contact You’re laid back, propped on your elbows, and he’s laying over you — skin to skin, cock deep inside, hips rolling slow. Pedro kisses your lips between every breath, moaning softly when he feels you clench. “Not even fucking you,” he says, voice wrecked. “I’m loving you.” His body moves just right, grinding into your clit, keeping you both there for as long as it takes. When you come, you cling to him. When he comes, he holds you like he’ll never let go.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

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needs a good fix

jackson!joel miller x fem!virgin!reader

a/n: this idea is by @yxtkiwiyxt !!! i couldn't stop thinking about it.

summary: you can't stop fantasizing about joel taking your virginity.

warnings: UNPROTECTED P IN V SMUT 18+. competency kink. joel is jackson's handyman, reader has no physical description, dry humping, female masturbation, male masturbation, age gap (reader is over 21), reader is a virgin, praise kink, fingering, grinding, aftercare, soft!joel, lmk if i missed anything!!

wc: 4.7k words

Joel was always fixing things around town.

Ever since Joel Miller showed up in Jackson, folks started calling him the town’s handyman. The way his hands moved, steady and skilled, fixing what needed fixing… he was good. he was good at what he did.

The creak of his boots echoed from the side of the barn as he repaired the gate hinges. A few days ago, it was the broken heater in the art room. Before that, the fencing near the stables. He was the kind of man who did not like to sit still, and Jackson had plenty of things to keep him going. He liked helping around, and it made him feel needed.

You didn’t mean to notice him every single time. Your eyes just naturally averted to him, every time. At first it was small things.. how he always showed up early in the morning. How he talked to people with that low, Texas drawl, with kindness, and sometimes a little grumpy. It was clear he cared deeply about doing things right.

His rolled up sleeves, the grunts he made when he was moving, the way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating … it was all too much. He did everything so well, no neighbor ever complained. Every time you saw him with a tool in his hand, or a smudge of grease on his forearm, something inside you twisted. It started as a quite ache, one you could ignore if you distracted yourself enough. But the more you saw him, the worse it got.

And you… you were a virgin. Growing up in the apocalypse and all, you never really had the chance to get to know someone that intimately, besides, you were very comfortable with your own sexuality, taking care of yourself, and you were quite satisfied. Boys had thrown themselves at you before, but you weren’t into guys your age, immature and inexperienced. You always liked them a bit older, more experienced. You had a thing for competency, and men like him who were good at what they did. blue collar, broad-shouldered, good with their hands. Men who smelled like whiskey, sweat, and knew how to fix shit other people couldn’t. Joel, with that salt and pepper hair and his worn button-ups, the way he moved, was turning you on. You couldn’t look at him without your breath catching and sweat clinging to your forehead, without heat crawling low in your belly. You couldn’t stop thinking about your first time being with him, how protective he’d be, and how good he’d take care of you.

You didn’t live super close to him, but the universe clearly had other plans, because somehow your errands aligned with where he happened to be. And always, he’d greet you.

Just a “hey”. Simple, and casual. Too casual for the way heat pooled between your legs every single time. You try to keep it cool, offer a quick smile, or a nod, but your words never come out the way you want them. If he had any idea how tightly you had to clench your jaw every time he walked by, he sure as hell didn’t show it.

He had no idea what he was doing to you. As far as Joel was concerned, you were just another friendly face in town. You were kind to him, sweet even, traded coffee for paint supplies, but you never stayed long enough to hold a conversation. Joel figured maybe he made you didn’t like him, that you, maybe you just weren’t the talkative type.

He usually worn button-ups, long sleeves rolled up. But with the seasons shifting and the sun hanging higher, he was showing up in tight t-shirts that left little to the imagination. The fabric hugged his arms just right, tracing every muscle and vein, and it was impossible to imagine what those hands could do if they weren’t busy fixing shit. One time, he reached to grab something from a top cabinet, and with his arms stretched high, you caught a perfect glimpse of his waist. The way his shirt rode up just enough to reveal his happy trail leading down, and the waistband of his boxers. It made you feral.

Every night, you thought about him. What his huge hands might feel like. What his calloused fingers would feel like on your body. How his grunts might sound like if he was on top of you, whispering something low and filthy in your ear. Late at night, you let your thoughts slip where they shouldn’t. Under the covers, imagining what it would feel like to have someone there- Joel, instead of your own fingers, moaning and whimpering his name, hoping one day he would just magically show up and fuck you senseless.

One afternoon, you told yourself you weren’t going to do anything stupid. But it was a hot spring evening, you had two glasses of wine, maybe three, and it was just enough to make you feel courageous. Or reckless. Tipsy, that made your skin feel too hot, your clothes too tight, and your underwear soaked. You didn’t let yourself think it through. You just walked down the street, heart pounding and thighs pressed tight, wearing a top that accentuated your breasts & an old fashioned lie. and knocked on Joel’s door. You told yourself it was innocent. A neighborly thing.

He answered the door in a t-shirt. Collar a little stretched, fabric clinging to his biceps. You had to force your eyes to stay on his face.

“Hey,” you said, a little breathier than what you meant. “S-Sorry to bug you. I just-uh… my sink’s acting real funny. The one in the kitchen.”

The kitchen sink was fine.

Joel wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. “What’s it doin’?”

You shrugged, toying with the straps of your shirt. “Leaking. Making a sound. I dunno.” you said nervously.

“I can swing by tomorrow,” he said, nodding.

You licked your lips. “I’ll uh…. I’ll leave the door unlocked. In case I’m out. So you just let yourself in.”

Joel’s brow ticked. “You leavin’ your door open for just anyone, darlin’?”

Your heart stuttered. Was he flirting with you? “Uh… no, no.”

He smiled, “I’m just jokin’.” He clapped his hands. “Alright then, I’ll uh.. see ya tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, you turned around and walked back home, your heart about to rip open your chest.

The next day crept up slowly. You woke up flushed, replaying yesterday’s interaction in your mind like a dream.

You told yourself not to get too worked up. Not to overthink it. But by mid-afternoon, you were restless. The house felt too warm, your skin even warmer. You kept checking the clock, hoping his knock might come any second.

And when it didn’t, you grabbed the wine bottle. To cool you down, ofcourse. To calm your nerves. You’d left the door unlocked like you promised him. Just a crack, enough for him to step inside. The kitchen sink was fine. Didn’t need any fixing. But your body…? That was another matter.

You wandered upstairs to your room, still leaving the door cracked, restless and a little tipsy from the wine. The fan hummed softly overhead, but it did nothing to cool the heat spreading low in your belly. Your clothes clung to you, damp from the warmth… and your wetness. You ran your hands down the front of your thighs, exhaling a shaky breath as your fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. They felt suffocating. You slid them down your legs slowly, the cotton catching slightly on your hips before pooling around your ankles. The air kissed your skin, and you bit the inside of your cheek, goosebumps rising on your legs.

You sat at the edge of the bed at first, on your back. Your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shit. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way his biceps flexed. His Texas drawl dipped in honey. The way he said your name.

Your hand drifted over your stomach, skimming lightly, like even your own touch was too much. You didn’t rush, just let your fingertips trace lazy, aimless patterns, dipping lower each time until they reached the waistband of your underwear. There was a steady warmth pulsing at your core, a heat that had been building all day. You let your fingers press down, through the thin fabric, catching your breath at the feeling. You were already so sensitive, so wound up from hours of wanting, of imagining him. You were pretending your hands were his, touching you like this for the first time. You shifted against the sheets, chasing friction, letting your hips tilt just enough to press into your own hand. It was slow at first, knowing your body too damn well, until you started to rub your clit in small circles and gasping softly, your mouth falling open.

Joel told himself he’d swing by later in the afternoon, but something about the way you looked at him yesterday.. the wine flush on your cheeks, the way your fingers played with your shirt straps… He was confused. He was old. Surely, he didn’t think you were flirting with him. Why would someone so pretty, want someone like him?

The door was exactly as you left it. Unlocked, cracked open a little bit. He still knocked softly at first.

“Hey,” he called, voice low. “it’s Joel, you home?”

No answer.

So he stepped inside, slow and polite, calling your name softly. And suddenly, he heard it. Faint and breathless.

“Joel.. Oh..”

His heart jumped. You sounded like you were in pain, or crying. The sound of your voice had him moving before he could think. He dropped his tools, boots thudding against the stairs, every protective instinct in him lighting up. Another soft moan. “Oh God...”

He didn’t wait. “Darlin,? You alright?” He pushed the door open with his shoulder, chest tight, eyes scanning …. Until he saw you. laying back against the sheets, legs spread, hand between your thighs. Your shorts discarded on the floor.

You froze.

Joel froze too.

He wasn't dumb. He caught on what was happening immediately.

His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but no words came out. His eyes were wide, locked on yours. Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence was thick.

You sat up in panic, putting your shorts back on. “I-I thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered.

He looked dazed. He swallowed hard. Took one step closer.

“You left the door open,” he said quietly. “Said I could come in.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—” You whispered, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. “Joel, I didn’t think you’d—”

He nodded once, firm, eyes still on you. “You say my name like that all the time when you’re alone?”

You couldn’t speak.

He took another step. “I came to fix the sink, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with something rough and warm, “but I think we’ve got somethin’ else that needs my attention.” You swallowed hard, heart hammering like it might break through your ribs.

Your fingers were still trembling from earlier. From the way you’d whispered his name like a fucking prayer. And now he was here. Real. Solid. Broad shoulders taking up half the space in the room.

You felt small. Exposed. And yet… your body ached for him.

Joel’s eyes dragged down your frame, slow and deliberate. His jaw ticked.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said, voice low. “I just… didn’t know you… felt that way about me.” He swallowed. “I wasn’t supposed to see that.”

Your back straightened, chest still heaving. “Well, I do.” You blinked. “Joel, you should probably just go,” you stammered, voice shaky. You started rambling under your breath, words tumbling over each other like a flood. “I’m so dumb. I’m sorry, Joel. The sink doesn’t even need fixing. I mean, what was I thinking? I just wanted to see you, like some fuckass teenager with a crush. You don’t even like me like that.” You stared at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes, heart pounding loud in your ears.

Joel shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Darlin’, calm down. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, eyes soft. “I… like you, I’m just surprised,’s all,”

You opened your mouth, words caught in your throat. “I had too much wine. I just need a minute, okay? I’m overwhelmed”

He nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll head home, okay?” His voice was low, unsure, like he wasn’t quite sure on how to act after that, and neither did you. He slipped quietly without another word. Did you just fuck everything up?

The next day, there was a knock on your door.

Joel stood there, hand on the back of his head. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Can I…come in for a sec?”

You smiled and stepped aside, still mortified from yesterday.

He glanced around like he was gathering his thoughts, then finally looked at you. “I been thinkin’ about what happened yesterday.”

You blinked at him, cheeks heating up. Talk about the elephant in the room. “What do you mean?”

Joel let out a slow breath. “I wanted to apologize. You were embarrassed. Thought I didn’t… want you like that.”

You looked away, heat crawling up your neck.

He continued, gently, “I didn’t mean to walk in on somethin’ so personal. I swear, I only came in ’cause I thought you were hurt. You sounded like you were in pain, and the door was open, and.. I’m sorry.”

You chewed your lip. “Joel, you don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault, I should have closed the door.” You sighed. “I didn’t mean to make things weird”

“Nothing’s weird,” he said. “I just.. Jesus, I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I’m still tryin’ to wrap my head around it, ‘cause you’re…” he trailed off, eyes on yours, voice soft. “You’re beautiful, and young. I don’t know how in the world you would want someone like me.”

You stared at him. Your heart was thudding in your chest, heat creeping up your neck, wanting to tell him that you’re a virgin and just blurting it out. “I’ve never… had sex.” Your voice barely carried, but it felt like the loudest thing in the room. “I just wanted you to know.” You paused, cheeks burning, then forced the next part out. “I guess... I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I just want to get it over with, with someone more experienced, you know. To know what it feels like. So, um. That’s what I was thinking about. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Joel blinked, his gaze holding yours, unreadable for a second. His eyes dropped for a second, then came back to yours, voice rough, blurting out a confession himself too. “I thought about you too, last night.”

You blinked, confused. “what?”

His breath hitched. A humorless little laugh left him as he shook his head. “Couldn’t get the image outta my head. We’re even now. Ain’t gotta be embarrassed.”

You tilted your head, searching his face. “are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

His voice was low, thick with something darker, more vulnerable. “No.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t move. So you kissed him.

When Joel kissed you back, it was desperate. His hands gripped your waist, rough palms dragging over your back like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. Your fingers tangled in his soft curls at the back of his head, tugging him closer, swallowing the low groan he let out when you parted your lips for him. You whimpered softly into his mouth, pressing your chest to his, needing him even closer. He smelled so good. Like whiskey, and soap, and musk. It invaded your senses, and your brain turned into mush.

His tongue swept over yours before he broke away to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, open mouthed and breathless.

“Joel…” you moaned, “Fuck,”

Your knees hit the back of the couch, and the two of you stumbled, breathless and tangled in each other until you fell on top of his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he sank back onto the couch, pulling you down with him. Your legs were straddling him, your hands braced around his neck. Kissing you deeper, his hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs, like he was trying to touch every part of you all at once.

You rocked against him as he groaned into your mouth, hips bucking up just slightly. His mouth found your neck once again as you kept moving against him achingly, feeling the thick press of his erection beneath you, hard and growing. You were so turned on it hurt.

“Shit,” Joel rasped, gripping your hips, trying to hold you still. “Baby…”

You didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You needed him. But his hands stilled you.

He leaned his forehead against yours, kissing your head, chest rising and falling under your palms. “Sweetheart,” he said, voice low and steady now, “we gotta slow down.”

You blinked at him with doe eyes, lips still parted. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, cupping your cheek. “God, no.” He swallowed, eyes on yours. “It’s just… it’s been a long time. And I want this to be good for you.”

He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You really want this?” he asked, voice quiet.

You leaned in, lips brushing his, barely above a whisper, “Yeah. I do.”

His chest rose and fell against yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips before dragging back up again like he was trying to memorize you.

He leaned in and kissed you softly, slow and unhurried, letting it linger, letting your fingers drift up the back of his neck and into his hair. He exhaled into your mouth, and you felt the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter.

Then, without a word, you reached down and tugged gently at the hem of his shirt.

Joel paused, eyes searching yours. But he didn’t stop you.

You lifted the fabric slowly, revealing the scarred, strong lines of his chest. Your fingers brushed over his skin as you pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall somewhere behind the couch.

His breath hitched when you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chest, soft and reverent. Another to his collarbone. Another just above his heart. He wasn’t used to this.

Joel’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, a hand coming up to hold the back of your head like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this.

You sat up, heart pounding, and slowly reached for your own shirt. You watched his face as you peeled it over your head. his eyes widened slightly, lips parting, awe written all over him like you were a dream came true.

You took his hands and placed them on your waist, his palms warm and steady. Then you leaned in again, and he kissed you hard, lips sliding to your jaw, down your neck. When his mouth finally reached your chest, your breath caught. he was kissing you there, slow and gentle, like he was learning the shape of your breasts with his mouth.

A soft moan escaped you, hips shifting instinctively in his lap. You felt the heat building again, sharp and overwhelming. Every place he touched felt like it burned.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice breathless, “need you to touch me…”

One of his hands slid down slowly, carefully, finding the edge of your waistband. His fingers brushed your skin, teasing, and you gasped softly. You could feel the heat between your thighs, a growing ache that had only sharpened since the moment he walked through your door.

“I’ve never-” you whispered, barely audible.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you. We don’t gotta rush a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You nodded, heart pounding, eyes locked with his.

“Jesus,” he rasped, resting his forehead against your chest for a second. “You tell me if anything don’t feel right. Any second. You hear me?”

You nodded again, lips brushing against his temple. “Yeah.”

He leaned back just enough to kiss you again, slower this time like you were something delicate, hands trailing up your spine. You arched slightly as you were dry humping on the couch, gasping at the friction between your core and his erection. You stood up, and discarded your shorts on the floor, just your soaked panties covering you. When you lowered down on his lap again, your fingers found his, guiding his hand between your thighs.

“You can touch me,” you said quietly. “I want you to.”

Joel let out a quiet groan. “You tell me if it feels too much, alright?” he groaned, voice low and full of heat.

His fingers dipped down between your thighs, finding you through the soft fabric of your underwear. He rubbed slow, careful circles against you, patient and steady, coaxing every sound out of your lips.

You gasped softly, hips tilting toward his hand without meaning to. “Joel…”

“That feel good?” he rasped, lips brushing your jaw, his voice rough but gentle, making sure you were okay.

You nodded, too breathless to speak. Your fingers curled into his hair, holding on as he kept rubbing you through the thin cotton, your arousal soaking through. He could feel how wet you were, even like this.

“Jesus, baby…” he breathed, his voice thick. “You’re already so worked up for me.”

You whimpered as your hips began moving on their own, grinding against the heel of his hand. Joel’s breath caught, he was getting worked up too, chest rising fast, jaw clenched. His free hand slid up your back, gripping your waist like he needed something to hold onto.

He groaned again, almost like it hurt. “You keep movin’ like that, sweetheart, and I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

Carefully, he slid his hand beneath your waistband, fingers finally touching you bare. You gasped, the heat of his skin against yours sending a shiver up your spine. Then, ever so gently, he slid one thick finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as you clenched around him. “You’re alright. Atta girl. Just like that,”

You whimpered again, his finger moving in slow strokes, your hips rocking toward his hand instinctively. He added a second finger, easing you open while his thumb stroked soft circles against your clit.

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible. The stretch, the warmth of him, the way he watched your every reaction like he couldn’t look away. This was so different compared to your own fingers. You knew it would feel good, but not like this. Definitely not like this.

You whimpered, getting closer, reaching the climax as your hips stuttered against his hand. Joel was whispering quiet praises into your skin, fingers moving slow and steady inside you, coaxing you open like he had all the time in the world. Your thighs trembled, your body arching into his touch, and the pressure inside you built with every breathless second.

“Joel,” you whimpered, voice breaking, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh, my god…”

“Right there?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. Just let go for me.”

Your body tightened, back arching, and then the wave came over you. your climax washing over you all at once, sharp and warm, overwhelming and dizzying. You gasped, clinging to him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you cried out his name.

Joel groaned, holding you through it, kissing your temple and whispering sweet nothings as your body shook against him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowing his fingers as you came down. “You’re alright. I got you.”

You were breathless, body still burning for him, for something more. “Joel… I want to feel you.”

He stilled, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, fingers curled around his wrist. “I want you inside me.”

His gaze searched yours for any flicker of doubt. There wasn’t any. Just need.

He gently guided you off his lap, helping you lie back along the couch. The cushions dipped under you, the living room warm and quiet except for the sound of your shared breathing.

Joel stood for a moment, just looking at you. Then his hands went to his belt, undoing it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You watched as he slid his jeans down, then his boxers, breath catching when you caught sight of him, thick, hard, and flushed at the tip. He knelt between your legs, bracing a hand on the couch beside your head, the other guiding himself gently as he settled over you.

You reached for him, touching his chest, then his face, grounding yourself in the heat of his body.

Joel hovered over you, breathing heavy, gaze locked on yours like he didn’t want to miss a single second. He lined himself up slowly, hand cupping the back of your head against the couch cushion like you were something precious.

When he pushed in slow, careful, giving you time to adjust, you both gasped. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging in, and Joel groaned low in his throat, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Oh my god.

Your thoughts spiraled.

This feels so good.

It was everything you hadn’t let yourself imagine. full, warm, overwhelming in the best way. You couldn’t believe how right it felt, how gentle he was, how every slow thrust was lined with care and need.

This. This is why you waited for someone like him. For Joel.

His body pressed flush against yours, one hand bracing by your head, the other still gently cradling it like he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He rocked into you with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips, his breath ragged against your cheek, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Goddamn,” he groaned. “Such a good girl.”

You whimpered, already fluttering around him, your body starting to tremble again. “I-I think I’m close again,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured, voice cracking as he started to move faster, hips snapping a little deeper now, rougher but still so tender it made your chest ache.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips brushing his jaw as your body built toward the edge again. He kept whispering to you, grounding you, worshiping you through every second until everything tightened, and then you broke for the second time.

You came with a cry against his skin, body shaking around him as he groaned loudly, hips stuttering.

“Shit-darlin’, I’m gonna,” Joel gasped, and then you felt him follow, his body trembling with the force of it, buried deep and breathless. It was intense.

Joel was still above you, calming down his breathing, foreheads pressed together, your bodies tangled and slick with heat. His hand was still cradling your head.

You could still feel the aftershocks in your thighs, your chest, the gentle tremble in your fingers. Your heart was hammering. You’ve had orgasms before. You touched yourself often. But this was something else. You’ve never had this kind of orgasm before. Every careful touch, every word, every look… he'd made you feel safe. Worshipped. Taken care of.

You blinked up at him through the haze, and he looked down at you like he was in awe.

“You alright?” he murmured.

You nodded, dazed. “Mmmm.”

He exhaled softly, lips brushing your temple, and kissed it. Then your cheek. Then your mouth…slow, like he had all the time in the world now.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he said against your lips.

You didn’t protest when he gently pulled out, made quick work of cleaning you up as best he could with trembling hands and soft apologies, finding a blanket from your couch to wrap you in.

Then, like it was nothing,he lifted you into his arms. You curled against him instinctively, head tucked beneath his chin, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he carried you upstairs like you weighed nothing.

Your bedroom was dim, bed undone, but it didn’t matter. Joel set you down carefully, then climbed in beside you without a word. One of his arms slid beneath your head, pulling you close, his other hand resting lightly on your stomach beneath the blanket.

You sighed, melting into him.

For a while, neither of you said a thing. Just breathing. Just feeling. His thumb traced lazy little circles against your skin, and you let your eyes drift shut.

thanku for reading!

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Text

There is nothing better than Pedro Pascal.

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goaways-stuff · 27 days ago

Note

Pls pls pls old man Joelxreader obsessed with knocking reader up

Ovulation tracker

Pairings: Oldman!Joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: Explicit content 18+, age gap (60s/20s), unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, breeding kink, milk degration, praise kink 🎀

Word count: 1.000

It all started with your phone left on the nightstand. You'd fallen asleep early, curled under Joel's sheets after he wore you out, your bare legs talnged in his comforter and your panties still damp with his spit. Joel had only meant to check the time. But the screen lit up with your last opened app: an ovulation tracker.

The little pink heart on today's date blinked up at him.

"Fertile window: PEAK day."

Joel's breath left him in a slow, shaky exhale.

His hand gripped the phone tighter. He stared at the screen like it was some kind of challenge, a green light, a test of his restraint, if he had any. You'd told him you weren't ready for kids.. you'd told him to liked it raw, but only if he pulled out. You'd told him to be careful.

And now here you were... Flushed, sleepy, spread out in his bed on the one day your body was practically begging for it. Joel's cock stirred in his jeans, heavy and hot against the zipper. He clenched jos jaw. He should leave it alone. Letyouk sleep.

But when he looked down at you, your chest rising and falling, your nipples peaked under his shirt, youe thighs bare and glistening faintly from the warm room heat. No. He couldn't help himself. You whimpered softly as he climbed back into bed benind toy, brushing your hair from your face and kissing your shoulder.r "baby..." He rasped, voice low and rough with want. "You know what day it is?" You brow forroaed sleepily, still half dreaming. "...huh?"

Joel kisses behind your ear. "Your app told me. You leavin' it open like that, s'like you wanted me to know." Your eyes fluttered open slowly, cheeks hearing. "Wait... You looked?"

"Mmhmm," he said, voice gravel thick. His hand already sliding between your thighs, finding the heat there, the slick, the soft puffy lips swollen and flushed. "You're ovulatin', aren't you? All flushed and sensitive for me, babygirl" you gasped as he pressed two fingers into your already wet cunt.

"Joel-"

"Shh," he murmured, kissing your jaw, his beard rough against your skin. "I ain't gonna do anything you don't want."

But his fingers didn't stop.

They moved slowly, curling inside you, spreading you open, teasing that spot that always made your knees weak. Your hips bucked back instinctively. "That's it," he whispered, "let me feel you. You're so fuckin' soaked already, Bambi." Your thighs clenched. The heat was unbearable now, everything felt too much, your skin flushed, your nipple aching, your core pulsing with empty need.

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them up your belly, pressing them gently to your lips. "Taste how sweet your body gets when it wants bred."

Your eyes widened slightly.

"Joel-"

"Let me give it to you," he growled, flipping you onto your back and kneeling between your legs, tugging off his shirt. His chest was broad and dusted with hair, his arms brace on either side of your head like he was caging you in. "Let me fill you up tonight. Let's see what happens."

You bit your lip, heart hammering.

"You want that?" He asked, one hand gripping your jaw. "Want me to fuck you fill, let it take this time?"

Your pussy pulsed hard at the thought.

"Yes," you whispered. "Joel, please."

He didn't make you wait.

He stripped you slow, kissing each flushed, pink inch of skin, licking over your swollen nipples until you were moaning and squirming beneath him, already hypersensitive and clenching. By the time he slid the fat head of his cock through your soaked folds, your whole body was trembling with need. "Easy, babygirl" he murmured, pressing in slowly. "Let me strech you "

Your walls fluttered, already tight around the thick pushed of him. He groaned low in his chest as he filled you inch by inch. "So warm," he muttered. "So fuckin' wet for me. That's your body beggin' for a baby." You whimpered, clutching at his arms. He started moving, long, slow thrusts that rubbed all the way to your cervix. The sensation was dizzying. Deep, thick, perfect. You looked up at him through watery eyes, your whole body flushed and pink. "Joel... I feel- so full..." Joel groaned. "You feel perfect."

He fucked you deeper, harder, pinning your hips down so you couldn't run, so every thrust hit just right. The squelch of your soaked cunt echoed between your bodies. Your nipples were flushed and bouncing with each slap of his hips, and he couldn't stop touching them.rollinf one between his fingers whole sucking the other into his mouth. "Gonna come.." you whimpered. "Joel, I cant- I'm so close-"

"Don't fight it," he grunted. "Want you to come on this cock. Want ylu pussy squeezin' every drop outta me"

You shattered with a scream, your whole body locking up, eyes squeezed shut, breath caught in your chest as your orgasm pulsed through you, long and high and hot.

Joel didn't stop.

He fucked you through it, hips slamming, sweat dripping from his neck onto your chest. "You feel that?" He gasped, "feel my cock swellin'? That's what happens when you milk me like that, baby. I'm gonna fuckin' breed you." You cried out, overstimulated, legs trembling.

And then Joel came.

With a groan and a low, broken moan of your name, he pressed as deep as he could, burying his cock in your fluttering cunt, you could feel every throb, every twitch of his cock as he emptied inside you, his hips rocking slow, pushing it deeper. His orgasm didn't stop right away, it rolled through him like a wave, snaep breaths, shaky groans, his hand gripping your hips like ne could hold you open until evrey drop last drop stayed where it belonged.

~~~

Afterward, Joel collapsed over you, panting against your neck, his body jot and sticky and heavy. "You already?" Be murmured after a minute. You nodded, still catching your breath, your thighs twitching slightly from the aftershocks. "I'm full," You whispered, hand coming to your belly. "God, Joel..." He kissed your temple. "You're mine now," He said. "No pullin' out. No holdin' back" you blinked up at him. "That mean you're trying?" His smile was wicked and possessive and soft all at once. "Baby," He murmured. "I been tryin' it since the first time I saw you on that pretty little dress."

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