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taeslarityy · 4 months ago

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outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night.

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic.

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls.

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely.

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park.

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that.

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night.

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm.

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home.

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity.

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds?

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa.

You also adored the fuck out of Joel.

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock.

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman.

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts.

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day.

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. Your stayin’ over.”

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided.

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.”

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by.

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home.

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet.

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm.

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing.

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already.

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee.

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it.

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name.

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house.

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted.

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?”

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you.

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest.

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long.

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. “You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

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pedgito · 15 days ago

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𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

author's note | so. its been three months and a much needed break from this place, but i started this back in august with a fully fleshed out idea and then my motivation fell flat. i had a good chunk of this done and i love it too much to not post, even if just for myself. this will be two parts, this one and one coming in the near future. its so self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea. but an extra special thank you to the special and lovely people i talked about this with and that took a look at for me, i love you endlessly.

content warning | 18+ smut, dubious consent (relating to cannibalism), cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, demeaning language, joel is a hardass, high tension and angst, joel has weird kink relating to...you guessed it, this story is heavily joel leaning but tommy is a decent part of it, smut (oral), night swims, food/feeding tw, joel is a bit of creep here. please heed the warnings and pass if it's not your thing.

word count —14k

Long, desolate roads led you here. No telling how long you had until you would find the city skyline again, car running on fumes for the last ten miles, the sign at the end of the road pulling your attention up, eyes peering through the windshield as your car veered to the right and to a full stop.

Miller’s Farm, next right

Helped wanted, no experience needed

Hourly pay and lodging included

You had fifty bucks left in cash and half of that would go toward gas if you could find a gas station, your arms crossed over the steering wheel and blocked the blow to your forehead as you rested it against your forearms in frustration.The car’s AC was shotty at best, requiring you to hit it every half hour to keep it alive and even then it was a weak sputtering and a barely there chill that did nothing to quell the layer of sweat on your skin.

It takes several long, frustrating minutes before you decide that you don’t have any other option.

You were stranded, this was it.

Maybe hospitality extended this far out into the country, that even this far from the city there were still a few good, decent people around. With a deep, heavy sigh you exit the car and shove your key into the door, locking it and pocketing the keys into the pack slung over your shoulder.

It’s been weeks on the road, leaving pieces and pieces of you behind as you traveled. The lesser the weight, the lesser the burden. Were you running? You weren’t sure. But, staying in one place for too long made you antsy. Town to town, taking odd jobs where they were offered, living off the kindness of others in hopes of making it somewhere seaside.

Start a new life, forget about your past.

Austin wasn’t supposed to be your final stop, or even a detour, but the steps you took down the side of the road and toward the farm in the distance would be another place of temporary sanctuary. Hopefully.

Eventually the asphalt turns to dirt, kicking up gravel under your feet as you walk and covering your skin in a thin layer of fresh grime and sweat under the high noon sun. The barn, once a far-off dot, was now large and vibrant, that distinct red popping out amongst the rest of the dilapidated property, void of most color outside of dull brown. There was a house to the left, cluttered with a melody of things. Tools, furniture, plants, and things you couldn’t even recognize.

You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyone—this couldn’t be the wrong place?

A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitch—someone was home. You look around carefully, peering over your shoulder and finding nothing. There was no wind, no noise, and your breath caught in your throat.

Maybe this was the time to turn back and attempt your chances elsewhere.

The front door opening with a creak has your head whipping back over your shoulder to set sights on the person in front of you—a man, tanned skin and tall. He was stocky but lean, black hair tucked behind his ears and trimmed just above his shoulders. He looked clean, which was more than you could say for yourself. All clean-cut man, jeans and a casual shirt, boots tucked under his jeans as his hand curled around the front door of the house and half of his figure leaned out.

“Can I help you, darlin’?�� The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before he’s closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until he’s near you, a few feet away. “You lost?”

“I—I saw the sign?” You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, “My car ran out of gas, I’m out of money and it’s hot. I was just hoping for some work to help get me back on my feet and out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.

“I don’t mind the work, I’m not picky. I don’t have a resume or anything, but I promise—”

“Woah, slow down,” You can hear the amusement, a smirk pulling at his face and you chew at your bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting around the straps of your backpack, “We’re not lookin’ for some hoity toity types with degrees—you comfortable gettin’ dirty?”

You glance down at your clothes, a few days without a shower and driving down sideroads with your windows down has made you look worse for wear, “Absolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch even—you won’t even know I’m here if that’s an issue for you. I can keep busy.”

You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.

He extends his hand unexpectedly, “I’m Tommy,” He introduces and you take his hand softly, feeling him squeeze firmly at your grip and the smirk in his face soften into a smile, “listen—we don’t do the whole hirin’ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and there’s a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?”

You felt inclined to ask what the work was, but you decided not to be picky.

And like a dinner bell had been rung, the other man appears out of the barn.

Joel, a stark difference to his brother in stature and cleanliness but the resemblance was uncanny in the way they carried themselves. A similar stride that felt intimidating, broad shoulders stretched out over taught muscle and a matching resting scowl on his face.

Something told you his expression was more permanent, though. His brow pulls together, eyes squinting as he looks you over. He was wiping at his dirtied hands with a rag, a sheen of maroon drying to brown that you could only assume was blood.

It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter.

The thought of it didn’t make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.

It takes one look and he’s giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, “Ain’t worth the trouble.”

You instantly grimace, offering a less than subtle look of distaste at that man.

Stubbornness is what he notices immediately, but then your eyes are flicking back toward his brother who looks more confused now than when you had first approached the farm.

“You said you were outta gas, right? Just needin’ some extra money?” He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, “Said she doesn’t mind gettin’ dirty—willing to help out wherever. I’m sure we can find her some work, right?”

Joel looks you over slowly, a predatory gaze that makes you feel infinitely smaller. He was staring through you, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of your soul. His eyes were darker, nearly black and ringed with deep set under eyes from an obvious lack of sleep—whereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.

“You slaughter cattle before?” Joel asks, “Cleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?”

You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, “I don’t care what the work is—I’ll do it. If I need to be taught, I’m willing to learn. I’m a quick learner too.”

Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothers—he could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists.

She’s useful, she’s good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests.

But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.

“Send her to the doc, give her the guest room,” Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “You’ll start work when we know you’re cleared.”

You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, “It’s a liability thing,” He promises, “and it’s heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.”

“Whatever I need to do,” You return the grin, tracking Joel’s departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, “is he always that angry?”

“Usually,” Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, “I’ll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonight—to keep away anyone tryin’ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, “but—do you think I could take a quick shower first? It’s just walking in the heat and it’s been a few days...”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.

With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow.

And what you’re expecting is not what is revealed to you. It made sense that the disorganization would spill into the house, but it was nearly spotless. Pristine countertops and polished wooden furniture, a wall of file cabinets and a tucked away nook with a computer set up. It was like entering another dimension, your eyes tracking along the full expanse of the house before they land on Tommy, who’s looking on with that same amusement as earlier.

“It’s a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,” Tommy admits, “The outside is…all Joel, mostly.”

You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.

You weren’t judging, it wasn’t your place.

“The shower is down that hall,” Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, “first door on the right—did you—do you have clothes?”

“Only one clean pair left,” You confess, “but I’ll make do.”

“We’ve got clothes, if you need them. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues you—approachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t allow yourself to linger either, making your way to the bathroom with quick footsteps and remaining blind to the rest of the house, hearing a sharp scuffle of a chair that you can only assume is Tommy as he sits and waits.

It was the easiest predicament you've dealt with in the last few months. But you weren’t, not even for a moment, going to question it.

It’s a small building near the edge of the town, only a half hour drive from the farm and sat in some silence, you find out a slow trickling of information that Tommy shares, his elbow propped against the open window and the other gripping tight around the steering wheel, his hair a wind-blown mess.

“It’s been in our family for years,” he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, “s’why it's a mess—can’t be bothered to part with some of that junk.”

“I’m not judging.”

Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.

“It is a lot of stuff,” you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.

“Joel is a little sentimental,” Tommy adds, “he’s always been like that—harder for him to let shit go.”

You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before he’s at the passenger side and opening your own door, “Oh—that is really not necessary—”

“My momma would be rollin’ in her grave otherwise,” Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, “so, just let me, alright?”

You don’t argue, chivalry be damned.

There isn’t much to be confused about as you step inside the clinic with Tommy in tow. He takes a seat near the door and the doctor, an old man with a limp and someone who refers to Tommy as son—he earns a casual nod in return and then you’re led beyond the door to the hall of other rooms.

It was a very typical line of questions, a general physical, and a blood draw that he promised would be pushed through quickly for the benefit of allowing you to work as soon as possible.

You try desperately to ignore the particular aura about the old man, thin-wired glasses perched on his sharp nose, age spots littering his face and bald head—but the most glaring is the missing pinky fingers on both hands. It was so clean cut and well-healed that you assume it could be something he was born with, but the moment he spots you noticing, he seems to switch gears.

“You’re all good here,” he tells you, “If anything comes up I’ll give the Miller’s a call—you’re lodging there, right?”

Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.

“Gotten a few like you before,” he comments oddly, “I’m not passing any judgment, it’s just a question.”

“Yeah—yeah I am. Staying there.”

Increasingly creeped out as the seconds pass you breathe a sigh of relief as he allows you to leave, meeting Tommy at the front door with a less than comfortable expression. His eyes press a silent question but you shrug it off, hearing him bid a polite goodbye over your shoulder as you walk toward the truck.

Eventually, settled into the truck as Tommy turned over the ignition, he responds with comfort, “He ain’t the most approachable guy,” he admits, “but he’s been helpin’ us for years.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Hopefully I pass with flying colors then.”

Tommy shrugs, backing out of the parking lot with his arm thrown over the passenger seat, feeling the slight touch of his fingertips against the back of your neck through the headrest, “We can figure somethin’ out anyways, seeing as you’re more than eager,” Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, “I like that.

–

Tommy gives you a proper tour when you arrive back, nothing extensive but he does walk you around the property. He shows you the animal pens; pigs, goats, a few cows wandering around the pasture. And the barn, but he doesn’t enter. You note the lock hanging from the doors, clunky and rusted but securing the doors closed.

The inside of the house is less of a mystery, following Tommy as he lead you into the kitchen and showed off the expensive counter space and deep set sink—if they didn’t put a lot of effort into cooking then you didn’t understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.

“Joel is a better cook than me,” he admits, “another bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourced—” The look you shoot his way is quizzical.

“Grass-fed and they’re free to roam and forage for the most part, we’re not stuffin’ them full of grain feed to fatten ‘em up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkin’,” he explains, “he ain't’ much for socializing.”

Joel enters at the mention of himself, grunting as he steps beyond the threshold. His coveralls hung around his waist, tied at the hips and the dirty undershirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He peeled off his boots at the door and Tommy leaned against the counter lazily, one foot crossed over the other as he folded his arms and looked over at you, eyes slowly dragging to his brother.

“She cleared?” He asks briskly, “Or we sendin’ her on her merry way?”

“Joel,” Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, “doc said he’d call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.”

Almost as if you two weren’t even there, he strips off his dirtied shirt and works at the tie around his hips with the hand free of the balled up cloth, “Hope you like mess, girl.”

“I’m not picky,” You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, “A little mud and grime won’t kill me.”

Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, “Blood make you squeamish?”

You shake your head, noting the caked bits of dried blood tucked in the crook of his arms and the creases of his neck, a faint pink tint from his chin down, “As long as it isn’t mine.”

Tommy seems to tense at your wording, his arms flexing tight as he eyed his brother under a downturned gaze, staying quiet under the domineering energy his brother exuded.

“She might just survive ‘round here,” he directs at his brother, a smarmy remark although more boastful than he had been since the first time he spoke, but the distaste for you still lingered, oozed right out of the disingenuous smirk crossing his face.

He ain’t much for socializing.

It would only take a few weeks, you think. A few weeks and a couple cash payments and you could move onto the next place on your never-ending roadmap. You feel yourself breathing out a sigh of relief as Joel disappears, not realizing how long you had been holding it in.

“S’much as I’d like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think it’d be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,” Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, “I’m gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.”

And then he smiles, again. But, there’s a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you can’t help but return the gesture, “I…think I’ll hide out in the guest room until you come back,” you admit, pointing toward the hallway, “no offense to your brother, but—”

“Don’t take it personally,” Tommy assures, “don’t let ‘em intimidate you, either.”

Fight fire with fire.

It wasn’t your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.

You’ve spent the last half hour sorting through a puzzle on your haphazardly made bed, chin tucked into your palm, eyes tracking over the pieces until you could find a suitable match and slotting it into place before repeating the process. The deft shift and click of a door being shut pulls your attention upright, assuming it was Tommy, you clamber out of bed.

What you aren’t expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body wash—it wasn’t a particular scent, just…clean.

You look over, find Joel with a perturbed look on his face, a dinner plate hovering above your head and his expression turning more and more grim as time passes. “Sorry,” you mumble, “thought you were Tommy.”

“I look like Tommy to you?”

You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance.

Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.

“Yeah,” you respond coarsely, “but at least he’s not acting like someone shit in his food—do you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you can’t keep people around here?”

His arms drop then, strutting past you with heavy footsteps as he makes his way to the sink, dropping the dirty dishes and pressing his hands into the edge of the center island that sat opposite the line of cabinets and countertops.

“You runnin’?” Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. “Cops gonna come lookin’ for you?”

You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning.

“That’s none of your business,” you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, “No—what? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?”

That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until he’s striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.

You couldn’t help it—he was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didn’t have to speak, the image of him did the work itself. Even as he looked more approachable, clean clothes and a freshly shaven face down to a thin layer of stubble, almost normal in appearance. But, there’s rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.

“No,” he responds truthfully—at least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, “but two things you ‘oughta know—one, don’t go snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” he responds without hesitation, both of you snapping out of the intensity of the conversation as the front door slides open, a very focused Tommy stepping through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers full of greasy burgers and fries.

“Nice,” Tommy notes humorously, “you two didn’t kill each other.”

Yet.

“Got us burgers for dinner,” he explains, holding up the bags, “that alright?”

Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, “Already ate,” he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesn’t question it, but his eyes immediately catch on you, wondering what he had interrupted as he sees your body relax when Joel steps away. But, he shakes it off, offering a lazy grumble of a noise in response to his brother as he drops the food on the nearby dining table.

The dichotomy in the pairing is strange and you can’t comprehend how they’ve managed to co-exist as roommates, let alone siblings. But, they were also strangers. You had nothing but assumptions racking your brain, so you pushed it away.

Eat, sleep, and face the next day with a different attitude. A fresh start.

–

The morning was met with a rustling of two other occupants as they moved about beyond the barrier of your room, voices muffled but constant as they carried on amidst your dreary haze, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. It had been weeks since you’ve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didn’t have a reason to complain and given the circumstances—a roof over your head, a space to yourself.

You’d be stupid to argue otherwise.

There’s a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.

“Come in,” you say groggily, muffling out the end with a yawn as you stretch your tight limbs and watch as Tommy peaks his head through the open door, already showered and primed up for the day, his gaze lingers on you for a while and watches quietly. It should make you feel uncomfortable, but it does quite the opposite as you offer a shy smile, “—is this the part where you tell me I have to leave?

Your hands slap the comforter as he widens the door, letting it thud silently against the wall as he leans against the doorframe, hip cocked into his right hand.

“No, you’re all clear,” he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, “we’ve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.”

You nod lazily and push yourself out of bed, rubbing at the goosebump chill that spreads over your arms as you feel the kick of cooled air spread through the room, “Enjoy it,” Tommy remarks, “ain’t gonna feel that good outside.”

Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as you’re heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again.

He’s dressed for what you can only assume is a long day of work, thick pants paired with an even thicker shirt, skin covered from his neck to his feet and far too stuffy for the sticky humidity outside—his job couldn’t be easy and you weren’t faulting him for it, but the scowl on his face is getting under your skin and allowing its claws to find purchase within it.

He takes a sharp bite out of an apple you don’t realize he’s holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.

“There’s a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,” He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, “different sizes and shit, you’ll have to find something. Since you don’t have nothin’.”

You eye him skeptical but don’t argue, walking toward the dresser and pulling at the top drawer. It was a mix of new socks and underwear, all pressed and fresh in their packages. The next drawer, a mixture of different shirts varying in shades, sizes, designs. Your head turns on a swivel, watching as Joel takes another bite out of the apple, speaking around the food in his mouth.

“People come and go,” he explains vaguely, “always leavin’ stuff behind, so—”

Again, he waves vaguely in your direction.

“Got it,” you answer curtly, turning your attention away from him.

You shake away the looming cloud of discomfort that Joel leaves in his departure and sift through the clothes—at least they were being hospitable. That was more than enough to allow you to push the uneasiness aside for the time being.

Tommy heaves the bucket of dirtied blades and utensils, cutting boards, and a collection of other tools that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didn’t think to ask, didn’t want to know.

Not yet, anyways.

Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the house—it was similar to a sunroom, an entire wall of windows that gave you a beautiful view to the fields behind the house. Miles and miles of land, undistributed by the hum of city traffic and noise. The other wall, a dead-on view of the barn that Joel barricaded himself in. Tommy looks over briefly as Joel makes his trek to the locked doors, a metal jug of water in hand, a meat cleaver in the other.

“Well, he’s a ball of sunshine,” you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, “is this it?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admits, “for now.”

You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.

“So, just rinse at first with some soap, disinfect with the alcohol, then repeat and lay it out to dry. Pretty simple, but they need to be clean,” he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, “and always use gloves.”

He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before he’s speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, “Also—I grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.”

“As long as you found it in one piece,” You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, “you did, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasn’t offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, “but—it was pretty mangled.”

“You’re kidding me—”

“Tires were slashed,” Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, “there’s some rowdy kids ‘round here always causing trouble. We’ll figure it out for you, alright?”

Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later you’re looking at him with softer, kinder eyes.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you tell him, “I feel like I’m already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesn’t help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill than—”

Tommy rubs a finger under your chin to pull your gaze to his, a fleeting touch that has you freezing in place but looking up aptly, eagerly. He scrunches his nose slightly and shakes his head, “Darlin’, we’ve dealt with plenty of trouble. You don’t even come close.”

You laugh slightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth.

Tommy claps his hands together gently before shoving them into his front pockets, looking over his shoulder briefly before his eyes are back on you, “I’m going to start on some paperwork,” he explains, “come find me when you’re done?”

You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.

It isn’t hard by any means. It’s like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before you’re running them through the steps that Tommy had listed off, attempting to ignore how weary your arms felt by the end of it.

Your eyes kept flickering toward the barn throughout, wondering if Joel would surface—two hours passed and there wasn’t any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldn’t be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.

When you’re finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommy’s head. He’s tucked away in the corner at the desk he’d shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.

Curiosity kills, so you wander over.

Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.

It’s mostly numbers and an odd mixture of letters, a system that he must have come up with to track the intake of supplies and animals, some of them sorted by what looks like initials.

Tommy has a pen between his teeth and a calculator at his fingertips, typing away some numbers that add up to an amount that has your eyes bulging out, quickly realizing that this is none of your business.

He acknowledges your presence then, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, “Finished already?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I—sorry…if I was supposed to go slow.”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, “I still have some stuff to finish up—why don’t you go check and see if Joel needs anything?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.

“Just give a knock on the door,” Tommy instructs, “don’t go inside, he’s really testy about that. If he needs something he’ll answer.”

You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack.

Tommy offers an encouraging nod that you accept on less than enthusiastic legs, turning and heading out the front door with the surety that Joel would either ignore you or stir up some storm like he had the night prior.

He wasn’t nice or cordial, not that he needed to be—but it wasn’t a wonder why they seemed to go through help around the farm, running people off with his hard stares and less than appropriate comments. If making you uncomfortable was his plan, he was succeeding.

It’s quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. It’s still hot, feeling the rush of hot air hit your face as you make your way toward the barn, noticing the unlatched lock but remembering Tommy’s words.

Don’t go inside.

You knock, once with no answer. Again, notably drowned out by the rev of a chainsaw and then silence, a loud bang and rustling of dirt as footsteps come closer, instinctively you begin to step back, scampering away slightly as the door swings open just enough the Joel can fit his body between them, blocking you from peering inside over his large frame.

“You need somethin?” Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.

“Tommy said to check if you needed help,” Joel seems to spot your curious eyes as you attempt to peek around his shoulder, his arm raising to curl around the side of the opposite, unopened door and pulling the open space tighter, his eyes peering down at you, “I finished—inside.”

“Already?” His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, “You're the first one in weeks that ain’t emptied their stomach over that shit.”

It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldn’t handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasn’t going to kill you.

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, “besides, I told you blood doesn’t make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?”

“Don’t know you,” He shrugs simply, “don’t trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?”

You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, “Is there anything I can do?”

Joel pauses for a moment, seconds dwindling into a territory that brought you silent discomfort as he looked you over thoughtfully before peering over his shoulder.

“Actually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?”

You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isn’t staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.

“Do you?”

Joel laughs at that. A genuine laugh, though quiet and short, you hear it. It was proof that he had a legitimate emotion outside of the one built around pure disgruntlement.

He disappears for a moment, barn door slamming shut in your face and before you even have time to breathe, he’s back. It's a heavy metal bin full of minced meat and a faint coppery smell that has you turning your head and huffing under the weight as Joel trades the bin off.

He points around the corner, toward the corralled pigs snorting near the entrance to their pin, sending the impending meal you were holding.

“Just throw it in there,” He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, “they’ll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while you’re at it, the tools are in the shed out back.”

You nod slowly, digesting the information and feeling the liquid from the bin seep into the front of your shirt, the sensation making you curl inward, gasping at the coldness of it.

“Shit,” Joel curses, “shoulda gave you the apron, that’s always a messy task.”

He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.

“Next time,” He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, “don’t take too long—if you want dinner.”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.

God, maybe you were winning him over.

“I’m a good cook,” he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, “you’ll regret sayin’ that.”

You snort softly as you shake your head, turning on your heels and toward the pigs, hearing the soft thud of the barn door.

It takes you a half hour to finish the task, grimacing slightly as the pigs frenzy toward their food, leaving you mostly undisturbed as you clean up the pen, catching Joel with his overalls tied around his waist, sweat dripping down his neck and his hair matted to dirty skin.

He seemed normal like this, natural. Dirtied and grimy, a permanent grimace on his face as he traded places with his brother, who was headed toward their truck.

You catch his eye, a waved offer in return for your smile.

Another moment alone with Joel sounded dreadful and maybe sticking out in the remainder of the hot summer day didn’t sound too horrible now.

But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyone’s stomach, so you choose dread.

You and Joel trade off showers silently, working around each other in a less than comfortable silence, mostly trying your best to avoid him entirely, but you can only bear the avoidance for so long.

Freshly showered and in a clean set of tattered lounge clothes, you round the corner into the kitchen and catch Joel’s back, a white shirt stretched over tight muscle as his back tenses when he reaches for the burner, adjusting the heat on the stove.

His keen hearing clues him in, turning briefly over his shoulder to spot you. His expression is softer, but still mostly guarded. With Tommy not around, he was a wildcard.

“Where’s Tommy?”

Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, “Finishin’ up some business in town—you sure you ain’t hungry?”

As if he knows, your stomach growls.

You had managed a decent breakfast and light snacking throughout the day, but the rich aroma of spices makes the food hard to ignore.

You approach curiously, noting the emptied but bloodied casing for the meat he was cooking, cutting board with a few stray vegetable ends and Joel’s gaze flickers to you once, then twice.

“You want a taste?” Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately.

As a show of trust, or just plain good faith, he takes a sip of the broth before shoving the spoonful into his mouth, a clear indication that it was safe to eat.

Not that you thought he would attempt to taint the food, but it did ease your worries and you were hungry despite your feelings toward him, so you nod.

Joel smirks slightly and dips a wooden spoon into the pot again, bringing the food to your lips and watching as you blow, the steam bellowing up in front of your face and you sip gingerly, invaded with a burst of flavorful notes.

It was an instant indication that maybe you had judged Joel too hard on his cooking skills, impressed by how savory the food was, stronger than you’re used to, but it was still pleasant.

Joel’s eyes are stuck on you, gauging your reaction and his lips twitching as your eyes light up, a gentle nod of approval in response. He plucks a piece of meat from the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question.

You find yourself nodding instinctively and Joel drops the spoon into the pot, guiding the chunk of meat to your lips and you open your mouth willingly, feel the soft press of the food against your tongue and the tenderness of it, like butter as your teeth grind into the meat, feeling the swipe of Joel’s finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.

And it tastes…fine. You wouldn’t dare give Joel the immediate satisfaction that you thought it was good, because it was. It was a perfect, home-cooked meal. Your stomach was craving it, mouth watering even more as you swallowed that first bite.

Joel brings his sauce covered finger to his own lips, pressing the digit inside of his mouth and sucking. He wasn’t wasteful, clearly—savoring every last drop.

“So,” Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, “change your mind?”

You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.

“I’ll give it a try.”

That’s all Joel needs to hear.

Somewhere between your first bite and your last, minimal conversation as you sit and devour the bowl of stew without a single qualm, you fall asleep.

It was a mix of exhaustion and a full belly, slumped against the table and your eyes falling shut despite yourself. Joel cleans quietly, dishes clashing softly as he washes the dirtied ones and wipes them clean, stowing away the leftover stew as peeks over his shoulder.

You’re still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose.

Joel rubs his hands over the front of his jeans, ignoring the half-hard jut of his cock against the denim, knowing the moment your lips slipped around that spoon he was a goner.

He’s never gone that far, he’s never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didn’t stick to a strict diet of Joel’s preferred meat, he did dabble on occasion.

Joel preferred it, and like his brother, was raised on it.

But, like many of the people that have come and gone, always through the process of ending up as stock for the Miller farm, Joel has never forcibly tried to push their beliefs on anyone.

Unfortunately, Joel had never met someone as intriguing as you. Not nearly as squeamish as the others, even fully grown men shying away from the task of cleaning pig shit out of a pen—you were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.

He’d wake you eventually, but for now he watches. Arms pressed against the central counter, keeping him hidden in the darkness as the soft glow of the overhead lamp above the dining table illuminated you.

Joel’s come to recognize things—good bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.

And you were just that.

A pretty penny.

—

Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze you’d made it to bed, whether with assistance or not you find yourself waking with a turn of your stomach and rolling out of bed in hurried attempt, feeling the force of bile as it made its way up your throat, fumbling loudly with the doorknob until you managed to pry it open.

You make it to the bathroom across the hall just in time to spill the contents of that evening's dinner into the toilet, attempting desperately to keep your wits, arms clenched around your stomach as you heaved relentlessly.

The cold hands come a moment later, icing the back of your neck as they push the hair from your face and offer a soft reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Tommy’s voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, “you with me?”

You nod weakly, hearing Joel’s heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.

“Musta been dinner,” Joel supplies to his younger brother, “she’s probably ain’t used to the stuff ‘round here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ain’t had it before.”

Tommy’s gaze lowers, focusing on his brother harshly. It was a look of words unspoken, threatening intention and one that had you holding your breath, wondering if you’d done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine.

In any other circumstance you might find yourself shying away, but you lean into it. He glances over, touching your skin once more. Left cheek, right cheek. You were clammy, mouth suddenly dry and begging for anything to quench the thirst or rid yourself of the sour taste in your mouth.

“Get her some water,” Tommy instructs his brother harshly, “and somethin’ cold, she’s sweating through her clothes.”

Joel doesn’t argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. You’d assimilate eventually, they all do. Him, Tommy, nearly all the townsfolk have learned to adjust to this lifestyle. Unspoken and secret amongst the outliers, it was the way of life around here.

He returns with a glass of water and cold rag, passing them off to his brother, “Don’t run off,” Tommy bites, “we need to talk.”

Joel grinds his teeth at the order, watching as you close your eyes to the glorious press of the cold, wet rag as Tommy squeezed it against your face, your neck, before bringing the glass of water to your lips. A few seconds and one generous gulp later you find yourself cracking a joke amongst the tension, pulling a soft laugh out of the younger brother.

“If you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, pardon me, sweetheart,” Tommy remarks playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Joel sniffles awkwardly, tongue pressing into his cheek as Tommy passes off the items and rises to his feet, nodding toward the hall and motioning for his brother to follow.

“You need somethin’ you shout, alright?”

You nod obediently, flushing the toilet weakly before resting your head in your hands, attempting slow breaths to calm your racing heart, waiting for the second wave of sickness to hit you but hoping it never came.

There's a muffled argument on the other side of the wall, the tell-tale sign of Joel's gruff voice, tone clipped and decisive—it was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.

“What’s our one fucking rule, Joel?”

Tommy’s voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.

“You're gonna tell me not to do it?” Joel retorts, “I already did. There ain’t nothing to argue.”

There was one thing they both knew for sure.

You weren’t like the others.

“She’s gonna find out,” Tommy assures him, “She’ll find out and then you’ll be the one that’s gotta do the dirty work, not me.”

“Afraid of me choppin’ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?” Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.

He’s grown attached too quickly. Joel had suspected, assumed by the immediate likeness to you, but the moment of care shared in the bathroom moments prior had confirmed that if Tommy wanted you, he could have you. The smile you offered in return for his kind efforts was enough for Joel to know.

So, yeah— feeding unknowing people human meat was the number one rule. But, growing attached was the unspoken one that the Miller brothers had always followed, without fail.

Until now.

“She’s smart—could use that, ya know?” Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.

His brother, who only ever thought about himself—he was suggesting you stay, that you could help.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. “Tomorrow?”

“I ain’t,” Joel responds without hesitation, “Like I said—she’s smart, she’ll figure it out.”

“Joel, if you don’t tell her I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, “you tell her and she’ll run for the damn hills—let her figure it out and she’ll confront you. Then we’ll see how good you are at coverin’ our asses.”

It was Tommy’s job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the face—a pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.

–

You wake with an ache in your muscles and the instant need for a shower, covered in a layer of sweat that makes you want to strip your clothes instantly. You remember Tommy helping you to bed the night prior, the faint memories of you hunched over the toilet as you discarded your stomach contents and Joel watching over, observing, but the rest was a blur.

Not trying to waste anymore time, you quickly shower and dress, meeting the two boys in the kitchen as they readied themselves for the day, picking over breakfast. You settle for a couple of slices of bread, toasting them to a near crisp and snagging a ripe fruit from the basket on the counter, watching curiously as Joel makes a cup of coffee. It was the most normal course of action you’ve seen him take—he even took it with sugar, but obviously no cream.

Tommy already tore through breakfast and was sipping on his own cup of coffee, looking up at you occasionally over the newspaper he was reading, knowing that you were attempting to eat light after the night prior.

“Feelin’ better?” Tommy asks.

Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesn’t press.

Without prompting, Joel speaks, “It takes some gettin’ used to,” He explains, “it ain’t like the shit you get in the city.”

It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.

“Same business today,” Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, “we might have some stuff comin’ in tonight though and we’ll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?”

You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, “—you sure he isn’t trying to poison me?”

Tommy snorts softly, watching as you chewed thoughtfully on the banana and your gaze followed Joel through the windows, tracking his movements until he hit the barn. You feel Tommy’s hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.

“He’s not,” If it was a lie, you couldn’t tell, “it all takes some adjusting, he isn’t lying.”

His hand still hadn’t moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, “You know, I did say all you had to do was ask.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, “Or, that’s inappropriate because…you’re technically my boss—”

“There isn’t rules out here, honey,” His voice is warm, inviting—but he’s still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. He’d set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, “we’re just here to help out and mind our business.”

“Okay,” Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, “and...thank you for last night. I know it isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.”

His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, “I lived on this farm my entire life. There isn’t much that I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.”

Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich taste—it was much more your style, full of cream and sugar to the point where it might rot your teeth out.

And the day proceeds without problem, moving through the motions of the tasks Tommy had assigned you yesterday, along with feeding some of the other animals littered around the farm. Horses, cows, goats—it was a wonder how they kept up with it by themselves. They were capable, but it seemed like too much for just two people. Regardless, it was impressive.

By evening, Tommy was pulling in with a truck full of secured and banded boxes on the trailer and Joel resurfaces from the barn by then, reeking something awful. You turn your nose away and scatter to Tommy’s side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.

“You get used to it,” Tommy tells you, “like everything else.”

You eye Joel wearily, who seems less than amused. He offers a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stacks the boxes two high and heaves them up and into his arms, ignoring any attempt at small talk with either of you.

You couldn’t be bothered to care, knowing that Joel’s behavior was nothing if not peculiar.

“What’s in the boxes?” You ask when both of the men are reaching for boxes, sliding a smaller one into your own grip. They share a look, uncertainty. Who speaks first? Lie? Truth?

Joel huffs quietly—fine, half-truth.

“It’s stuff for cleanin’ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?”

Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, “You’re snippy today,” you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, “when are you gonna give me a tour of it?”

“The what? The barn?” Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, “Never.”

Tommy shakes his head as he places the box down amongst the others, watching as you two bicker with shared looks and a soft giggle coming from you when you realize just how frustrated Joel had become, “I’m gonna head inside—try not to kill each other, alright?”

When Tommy is finally inside, you place the final box down. Joel was rearranging them silently, occupied with the task as you step backwards slowly, turning your head over your shoulder as you reach for the barn door.

The curiosity was likely to kill you—just a peek, that was it.

The creak pulls Joel’s attention up and he’s on you within seconds, door slamming by your head as his hand pressing against the flat of your chest, fingers itching to squeeze around your throat. You gasp, a guttural noise forced out of you as he pressed you into the hard surface of wood, feeling the splinters dig into your skin.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, “Answer me, goddammit.”

“Mind—” You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, “mind my business.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of that right now,” Joel points out, “seems like you’re enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?

“Hey,” you croak, weakly, “don’t kill me, remember? Your brother won’t be too happy about it.”

“That’s only because he wants to fuck you, girl.” He assures you, “You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joel’s ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, it didn’t soften the blow.

His hold lessens slightly.

“Did you think you were the only little lady that’s come through here that my brother hasn’t tried to sink his teeth into?” Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldn’t resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. “I like my privacy, alright? Don’t appreciate it when people invade it.”

You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.

“Don’t say sorry,” he tells you, “not when you don’t mean it.”

Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.

You weren’t sorry. You didn’t care. But, you were scared. Eyes still wide as saucers and boring into his own, all blacked out with rage but quickly fading back into their usual warm brown.

“You hungry?” He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, “I’m fixin’ to cook up dinner.”

Two could play at that game.

“Is it gonna make me sick again?”

Joel shrugs, “Might. Might not. You willin’ to take that risk?”

–

You luck out, for the most part. Aside from the dinner being nothing short of delicious, it makes you slightly queasy but it was easily qualmed by a glass of champagne, a nightcap to the work day as Joel has already wandered off to bed after cleaning up, leaving you and Tommy to perch on the stairs out front, a cigarette stuffed between his middle and pointer finger as he flicks off the ash, sipping from his own can of beer.

“I forgot to ask about pay, you know,” You laugh softly, “just…slipped my mind.”

“Weekly,” Tommy answers simply, “every Friday. So, tomorrow?”

You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadn’t expected how overwhelming those days would be, finally feeling the exhaustion settling in your bones as you rested beside Tommy on the front steps of the Miller home.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.

“A little queasy?” You’re unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You weren’t even sure if it was the food making you feel that way, almost certain that even a single look from Joel would give you the same feeling.

“You’re thinkin’ about it too much,” Tommy points out, “it’ll make it worse.”

You gulp down the rest of the cheap champagne and press the flat stand of glass into the stair besides your bare feet before leaning back on your elbows. Tommy mirrored you, crunching the aluminum can in his hand and tossed it aside.

“Okay, so—distract me,” you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.

Tommy takes a deep puff before you’re plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed at all, used to it.

Maybe Joel wasn’t lying about all those women.

This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.

“You wanna go for a swim?”

Your brow raises curiously, amused.

Tommy looks on, awaiting your response.

“Oh, you’re serious?” You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, “Uh, yeah—sure. I mean…where?”

“It’s a walk, but there’s a lake behind those trees,” Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, “feelin’ up to it?”

Your mouth waters unpleasantly as you continue to sit with your thoughts, yearning for distraction. You nod.

Tommy grins wide and takes your hand into his own.

He wasn’t lying. Under the moonlight, it was a huge lake with eerily undisturbed water. Pitch black and despite the hot and sticky heat, the water was cool to the touch as you dipped your feet into the shallow edge. Tommy is already wrestling with his belt, shucking his jeans down hastily and it forces you to move, stripping your own clothes off in time with him.

Down to your underwear you edge toward the deeper waters, hissing as more of your skin becomes engulfed in the ice cold plunge, feeling Tommy hover around you as he dipped under the water for a moment of time before emerging in front of you, pushing his damp hair from his face.

The cold water has you frozen, paralyzed.

“Come on,” he jests, “dunk yourself, it’ll help.”

You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.

“I’ll do it with you.” Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the water—you feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.

Tommy doesn’t force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before he’s doing a slow countdown and you’re both slipping under the water.

Moments later, you emerge with a gasp but it is full of elation. Tommy had pulled you out deeper, forcing you to swim until neither of you could touch and you clung to him instinctively, feeling the words that fall from his lips brush the back of your neck, “Distracted enough?”

It had, truthfully. You nod in response, feeling deft fingers at your hips as they turn you, your legs kicking in a melodic synchronicity. His touch lingers for a moment before he’s pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.

Chase him.

You giggle to yourself before following, moving gracefully through the calm waters. It continues like that for a while, minutes passing away effortlessly. The monotone buzz of insects hovering over the lake water and the insistent chirp of the crickets hiding in the grass kept your mind busy. It was peaceful out here, like the rest of the farm.

“So, you grew up here?”

“All my life,” Tommy answers easily, ��it isn’t exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?”

“Here, there—” you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, “everywhere, honestly. I don’t stick around places for very long.”

“Which reminds me,” Tommy interjects, “your car should be fixed up soon—but, if you wanted to stick around—”

“I don’t think Joel would appreciate that,” you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, “besides—I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Most people who pass through here don’t last more than a day,” Tommy admits, “it may not seem like it, but he’s warmin’ up to you.”

You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.

If looks could kill….

Joel would have maimed you at that moment.

“He’s a dick, but he ain’t immune to pretty girls,” Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, “we don’t get many women through here anyways—I think he’s just forgotten how to talk to ‘em.”

You think back on Joel’s words again and decide to poke the bear.

Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, “You know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,” you begin, “seducing helpless women who come asking for help.”

Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.

“Joel told you that?” Tommy inquires, swimming toward you. You turn on your hands, slowly scooting your way upshore with your palms until your ass is pressed against a bed of rocks buried in the dirty, shallow water lapping at your shins. “Honey, it’s been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farm—and the last one? It was some old lady needin’ a jump on her car.”

Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.

“People see the farm and they drive in the other direction,” Tommy admits, “but, not you.”

You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face.

“Helpless, remember?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you.”

You bite first, silencing him with a heated press of your lips against his own, your hand curling around the back of his neck and your blunt fingernails pinching at his skin. His hiss turns into a warm chuckle. He spreads his palm out over the inside of your thigh and beckons your legs apart until he can fit between them comfortably before it curls around the side and pulls you back in, your knees barricading his hips.

He coaxes you back, taking the balled up shirt on the shore and sandwiching it between the dirt and your head as he pulls back with a low sigh, eyes half-lidded and switching between your lips and your steady gaze, catching the way your tongue licks at your bottom lip.

“Need a little more distraction?” Tommy asks softly, the fingers on his free hand toying with the waistband of your panties, awaiting the nod of confirmation. It comes without thinking and he’s peeling the fabric off gently, watching as it stuck and rolled against your skin, sopping wet from the lake water as they fall to the ground with a soft squelch.

His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing forward in a way that beckons your chin up, meeting his lips in another hot and messy exchange of tongue and sweet, soft sighs breathed into each other’s mouths, feeling the tingly pulse at your core as his fingers drag through the center of your pussy. There was no mistaking the slick that had gathered there amongst your heated exchange, a low hum rumbling in his throat as he leaves you, sinking further and further down your body, eyes locked on your own.

“Open up for me,” he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, “fuck—that, just like that. Goddamn girl, she’s glistenin’ for me.”

He chuckles at your meek response, looking away with a subtle smile that made you want to crawl away from him, but he held you firm.

“Nothin’ to be shy about,” he reassures you.

You exhale slowly, a calming breath that quickly melts away as he licks a broad line up your cunt with his tongue, through your folds and slurping up with sweet, sticky slick. You gasp, hands curling into fist helplessly, moaning out into the silent night. There was the softest wisp of a breeze that blew over your skin, prickling your skin. But, it’s beat out by the heat of Tommy’s touch as he pulls your hand to his scalp, silenting guiding you toward his long locks and hoping you get the idea. You curl your fingers into his hair and tug, pulling his motions up toward your clit and he sucks, sucks so hard you think you start to see white before he smooths the intensity out with the gentler licks of his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re coming with a loud moan, nearly uprooting yourself from the ground as he holds you still, the insistent wiggling of your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue enough to make you beg, plead even.

“Tommy, please—stop, s’too much. Too much.” You breath out in a hurry and eventually, a few greedy seconds later, he relents.

He rises with a sated smile sometimes later, watching as you desperately try to catch your breath. Whatever uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach earlier was long, but it didn’t snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worry—like you were being watched.

The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.

Your car still sat untouched, but you couldn’t find it in you to be a pest about it—things were going well, a steady paycheck and roof over your head. You could bother them about it eventually, but not now. Not while things were good.

By October, the air is cooler and the work is easier to handle. Sometimes you help Tommy on the administrative end, filing away paperwork with information that doesn’t make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know they’re bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You don’t press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.

He was smitten, kind—sometimes he would sneak into your room at night instead of the latter for you, tiptoeing around Joel in the chances he might have something, anything to say. He’d lied to you about Tommy for his own benefit—but why? You tried not to dwell on it.

But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him.

He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for things—but there’s one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails.

Mentally, at least.

And it isn’t the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel can’t seem to rid himself of you. You’re always there, lingering, and even if you weren’t certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.

You weren’t even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joel’s unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.

He’s tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of times—it’s always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately you’re used to it. But, a large, stray rock buried in the dirt robs you of normality and the bin of bloodied scraps spills out as you land on your hands and knees, the skin scraping off your shins against the rough ground and a loud hiss slips beyond clenched teeth as you scramble to get back on your feet, looking around in desperation and hoping that neither of the brothers had witnessed your misstep.

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you hold back a gag, scooping the discarded scraps back into the bin, the meat like mush beneath your fingertips and you reach for a bigger chunk, immediately startled by the more solid texture of it.

Joel usually grinded up the meat, making it easier for the pigs to consume. But this, it was a whole and solid chunk. You push the bin away gently and swipe away the chunks of congealed blood and fat and rub your thumb over the texture of it. Thick, solid. The color was dull and pale but there was no mistaking it. It was skin, but more notably amongst that was the tattoo. It clearly wasn’t the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.

You’ve heard of people using pig skin for tattooing, wondering if Joel was taking up a side hobby amongst the already interesting career path he had taken, but something doesn’t sit well.

Five pigs, that was how many you’d seen since you arrived. You push the bin weakly toward the pin on your hands and knees until you can find the strength to dump it into the trough, allowing the metal to clatter to the ground carelessly as the pigs flood to their food. One, two, three…and two stragglers trotting over leisurely. Five pigs, not a single one missing.

The creak from the barn has you peering quickly over your shoulder, eyes landing on Joel as he leaned around the door, a perturbed look on his face. You thought it was worry for a split second and as he came closer—curious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut dead—it was.

He spots the blood on the ground first, a mess you had made. His eyes follow the trail of blood to the pin before they travel over you, covered in the rest of what didn’t make it inside the trough and then your legs—you don’t feel the sting until he kneels, his fingers running over your knees, tiny bits of dirt and gravel buried in the wound as his fingers continue down your shin. His eyes scan the expanse of the property before they’re locked back on you.

“Get inside,” It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you can’t move, frozen with a fear that didn’t hit you until Joel’s fingers touched your skin, “go on—you can walk, can’t you?”

Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You weren’t feeding the pigs scraps of other animals—it was humans. Weeks of clueless wandering, the itching feeling of uneasiness was confirmed for you in seconds. The bile in your stomach was threatening to escape as you walked on wobbly legs to the house, falling down into a chair tucked under the dining table, flexing shaky fingers into fists over and over, slowly in an effort to calm yourself alongside your practiced breaths.

Tommy wasn’t here. He would’ve come running otherwise—you vaguely remember the truck missing as you made your way inside, wondering how distracted you had to be to not realize he left. You hear Joel clearing his throat as he approaches the door, swinging it open harshly as it nearly pops off its hinges.

You make the effort to move, but Joel is quick to snap at you.

“Stay put,” He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.

You must’ve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joel’s every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone else’s—maybe not even one, it could be multiple. Joel seems to sense your stomach turning and lunges toward the trash bin in the kitchen and quickly shoves it in front of you, barely catching the vomit that spills from your throat as you retch your breakfast up forcefully.

Joel moves quietly amongst your sickened state, grabbing a few supplies that he slides onto the table beside you and waits, kneeled down at near eye level as you peer up, wiping the string of spit from your mouth and he looks enthralled, wondering what had caused such a chaotic string of events to unfold.

“You’re upset,” He notes, ripping open a package of cotton balls and pouring a handful onto the table, popping open the cap of isopropyl alcohol, dosing the cotton before he was pressing it into your leg without warning, earning a sharp whine of pain from you.

Was he expecting a different reaction?

“Fuck!” You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joel’s shoulder, earning a fiery look from the man—but if he wasn’t willing to give you sympathy, you weren’t going to return the favor, “—you are too, are we pointing out the obvious?”

His fingers drag along the back of your calf, position your heel against his hips as allows no relief, haphazardly pouring a small amount of alcohol against the wound and you grip the wood of the chair so hard you swear you hear it crack.

“Jesus, ease up,” you snap at him, “I fell, I fucked up. I’m sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What’re you apologizin’ for?”

There’s a distinct rip of tape as you watch Joel smooth the gauze over your shin, securing the bandage over the wound before he works carefully at your knee, cleaning the cut before leaving it alone and moving to the opposite leg.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, “Not everything is about you, girl.”

Fed up and simmering with your pain, you don’t think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, “Is it about Tommy then?”

Joel’s hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, “You think I’m jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?” Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, “I don’t get jealous. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it.”

The words pierce your chest, knowing there was deeper meaning beyond those words but you look away carelessly, feeling his less than gentle press into your skin as he continues.

“Business is slow, I don’t like it.” Joel admits, hearing the hesitancy in his voice as he admits it, but it seems harmless. In his mind, you have no clue of the nefarious nature behind their work.

Except, you do. Or at least you think you do.

“Is there any way to fix that?”

Joel shrugs, “Tommy’s workin’ the people around town, doing all the talking. We’ll see if it works.”

You have two choices.

Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can find—you know that won’t go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.

Because something—be it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You weren’t leaving here without a fight.

“Does the body reject it the first few times?”

You ignore the way your voice shakes, the recognition sitting with you, knowing that they had fed you the meat without your consent. Tommy, too. He’d sat there at the dinner table and tore into the meals all the same, less intrigued as his counterpart, but he was still an accomplice.

Joel’s expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.

“Was it on purpose?”

Joel’s brow raises, but he doesn’t answer.

“The tattoo,” You explain, “did you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?”

At those words, he lunges. His hands grip the table behind you, pinning you against the chair as you lean back and look up, feeling the deep rumble in his chest.

“I don’t fuck up,” Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, “No—look at me. Now.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.

“You knew,” Joel challenges, “long before that, I’m sure. You could’ve ran if you wanted, granted you’ve got that busted car out front, but you could’ve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just now—but you listened to me.”

You know what angle he’s pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.

“What are you hidin’ in there?” He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, “I’m telling you we’re murderers, cannibals, and you haven’t screamed or shed a tear. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

You shake your head and Joel speaks again, “Scared of dying though, right? What’s stoppin’ me from killing you? Tommy ain’t here.”

The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

There was no nod, but the subtle twitch in your cheek as you bite down hard on the inside of it was enough of an answer for Joel. Don’t give him those words, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“You killed before?”

Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.

You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isn’t done with you yet, one hand pressed against his knee as he leans down to your level and the other grabbing for your face, forcing you to look at him.

Admittedly, they weren’t all bad men. Some of them had tried to attack you on the road and ended up at the wrong end of a blade, but others—the few with bad timing and things you needed…it was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless.

You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger.

“Knew you’d be useful,” Joel admits, “s’why I let you stick around. You got that…look about you.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of disgust and confusion and you catch the way Joel spaces out for a moment, admiring your expression and you twist, shoving him hard with both hands in an attempt to send him stumbling back. It only forces him off-balance and your attempt to flee is stopped by his large, bear-like grip on your forearm as he throws you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Nuh uh,” Joel mocks, “can’t letcha go that easy, sugar.”

Joel's grip on your wrist is deadlocked, crossing your arms over your chest tight, pressing himself against you. Under this light, this closeness, you notice the small scars, years of healing left it fading into the skin and Joel notices you admiring for a brief moment—incredibly brief as your teeth clamp down around the side of his hand. Hard. It breaks through the skin and forces blood to spill from his hand and pool into your mouth before he pulls the wounded hand back and balls it into a fist, freezing as you spit his blood back into his face, an instant chuckle ripping from his throat.

“There you are, ya little killer,” He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, “well, isn’t that some fine timing.”

The door swings open a second later and Joel has already pushed away from you, nursing his flesh wound with a dry, clean kitchen towel, leaving Tommy to examine you both with a less than auspicious gaze, blood ringing your mouth and a smug expression on his brother's face.

You approach Tommy hesitantly, reaching for the door with a worried gaze but his hand comes up too, slamming against the flimsy frame and preventing you from roaming further.

“Can’t let you out, honey,” he apologizes, his voice more sincere than you’ve ever heard it to be before his head turns up toward his brother, waving around a white envelope addressed out to the both of them, “we gotta figure somethin’ out.”

He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didn’t leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.

“This is home now, baby.” Tommy soothes.

Because really, where else did you have to go?

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel x reader x tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x y/n #the last of us fic #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #cannibalism tw #my writing #wouldn't be me without a fucked up concept

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daddyhausen · 4 months ago

Note

Roman fingers his girl until shes sobbing and begging him to stop but he wants to make her squirt multiple times.

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡「 FINGERING HEADCANNONS 」｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 WWE MASTERLIST」 | 「 ROMAN REIGNS MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 SUMMARY 」 — fingering headcannons w/ roman

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+ [ MINORS DNI ] smut, fingering, female orgasm, multiple orgasms, squirting

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 278

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x roman reigns

「 GENRE 」 — smut

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-freakin-viper @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

he’s rough

his fingers are calloused and warn

he spreads your folds with such ease even when not properly lubricated

the way his fingers stretch your tight cunt is nothing short of mesmerizing

hypnotic almost

he pumps you out with two of them, a thumb circling your clit for added friction

most of the time he’ll have you facing away from him, legs spread in front of a mirror so you could watch yourself

he’s mean about it

degrading you about how easily he gets you aroused

not stopping until you whine and beg for him to make you cum

he edges you, constantly

right when you’re on the peak of orgasm he stops

keeping his fingers still inside of you

your cunt clenching around them

once he’s satisfied only then will he begin again

You’re in tears at this point, crying and begging for him to let you cum

“daddy stop!” you’d cry out

not that he cares.

he continues to degrate you further, laughing at the way you cry and scream for release

eventually he allows it,

he keeps fingering you through your orgasm

“c’mon babygirl, i know you got another one in you”

while you’re gushing like a fountain, making a mess of the mirror before you

your juices cascading down it like raindrops

he dosent stop there

even when you’re shuddering and trembling with release

he cant get enough of those sweet sounds your cunt makes

sending you over the edge again

leaving you in a puddle of your own wetness, your thighs soaked with yourself

even when he praises you its backhanded

makes you lick his fingers clean before roughly fucking your cunt.

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #wwe #wwe smut #wwe fanfic #wwe imagine

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whatislovevavy · 1 month ago

Text

Vending Machine Glow on Route 79

Jake Seresin x afab!reader

WC: 2.1k

Masterlist

Summary: Before leaving for college, you and Jake say goodbye in more ways than one on the last night of your cruel summer.

Warnings: swearing smut (18+), angst, lots of feelings, friends to lovers to almost strangers, both reader and Jake are 18 and over.

AN: This fic is heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s Cruel Summer. It’s been on my mind for a few months and I finally had the time and creativity to write it :) I hope you guys enjoy :)

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

These characters are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?”

You said as you stared at the ceiling, laying on the cheap motel mattress with Jake, bare beneath the sheets. You didn’t have to ask him what time. You were mentally counting down the seconds till your best friend was leaving you.

Your first love was leaving you.

Jake was set to leave for Annapolis in the morning, and you were set for UT Austin in the Fall for journalism.

“7 AM.”

His tone lacked the usual joy and cockiness he’d started to develop in highschool. He gently reached out for your hand, running his calloused thumb along the back of it. You gently reached out to cuddle into his side.

“I’m going to miss you.”

Your voice choked in your throat, shifting your gaze to Jake Seresin, the farm boy next door who you’d known since you could run. The boy you used to sneak out into the fields and woods to look for frogs and snakes with. The once lanky, awkward teenage boy with braces who used knock on your screen door unannounced, now filled out his highschool football and baseball jersey and had girls batting their eyes at him.

“I’m going to miss you too, Mooney.”

The nickname always made you smile. One summer during 8th grade, you and Jake had tried to make moonshine in the back of the Seresin farmhouse from some of the ripe strawberries on your family's farm. To say the least, you were far from successful and were both grounded for 2 months.

But it was one of your most cherished memories with Jake. That, and sneaking off with each of your horses to go swimming in dagger lake in the hot summer months during chore time. The cherished nickname now just made the tears harder to hold back.

“Hey,” Jake soothed, “I’m here, Mooney, I'm here. I'm right here with you.” Your glassy eyes peaked up, meeting his kind, soothing ones. The pad of his thumb gently wiped away your tears.

You sighed as he gently pulled your lips in for a soft, loving kiss. His hands clutched at your bare hips, rolling you underneath him. He sighed as your nails gently caressed and scratched at his neck and back of his head.

You tried to memorize the way his plush lips felt against your own. After all, you didn't know when you would get to feel them again.

Jake didn't hurry with his efforts as he clutched at and caressed the slopes and edges of your body he'd always loved.

Your soft sighs spurred him on, lathing kisses at your neck down to your breasts and areolas, your nipples taut from the friction against Jake's chest and the steady flow of chilled air from the humming AC unit in the corner.

Soft moans left your lips as he gently teased two fingers at your entrance, savoring the feeling of your silken walls around his welcomed digits. Eyes fluttering closed, fingers weaving into his hair as he gently, lovingly worked you towards your release, letting his calloused fingertips run along that extraordinary little spot that had you seeing the familiar, pretty shade of green behind your eyelids.

He let you come down from your high, littering your lips and neck with tender kisses, like he was trying to memorize the way your skin felt against him.

You clutched your nails into the back of his neck and flexed shoulders as he eased his cock between your smooth, soft folds, like the love-worn pages of a book that Jake couldn't get enough of.

“Jake.”

Your sighs made his heart clench and belly stir.

His hips moving in slow tandem with your own. Each clench of your plush walls made him moan softly, his nose running along the column of your neck, almost as if trying to memorize the soft smell of strawberries that always followed you.

His hips moved in an uneven tempo, his release tailing your own. The soft whimpers and sighs leaving your perfectly parted lips made it more difficult to keep his pace in check.

Your hips sputtered underneath him, thighs twitching around his lean waist. His lips crashed against yours as he felt you clutch desperately at his waist and shoulders, your release coming into the world with a cry of his name and a shudder.

His release followed suit; his body, soul and mind lost in the feeling of you.

Two people trying to make it in this world, intertwined as one.

He let his forehead softly rest against your own, breaths weaving together against the cheap sheets of the motel.

You pouted when he untangled himself from you, turning on the golden light of the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Softly smiling as he gently, lovingly wiped at your tender folds.

He always took care of you after your times together.

But this time felt different. Off.

The way he looked at you. He acted as if it was the last time he was going to. Like he was saying goodbye with each tender, soft touch of your body and lips.

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to keep your bubbling anxiety at bay.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that ?”

His eyes didn't meet yours, instead focusing on the warm feeling of the washcloth on his palm as he continued to gently rub at your inner thighs.

Your hand stalled his movements.

“Jake?”

His eyes met yours. But they weren't bright or as mirthful as they had always been; they were glassy and distant.

Your heart beat was quickening by the second.

“Please talk to me.”

His heart clenched at your plea. He knew this was going to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever have to do in his life.

A beat of tense silence passed.

You swallowed, trying to lighten your tone. “you're acting like this is goodbye…forever.”

He swallowed, feeling tears brimming.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Mooney.” He said it so softly that if you were anywhere else, you most likely wouldn't have heard him.

Your heart stopped and increased in density by a thousand fold. The once lively organ now consuming the life force of everything within its vicinity, your fingertips tingling.

“I just- with the Navy and everything, and you know how my dad is. I can't come back.” His desperate tone tried to plea a winning case for why this couldn't work.

“And long distance doesn't work out for a lot of people.” He said softly, tears falling freely now.

Your lip quivered, body retracting from his once welcoming, warm touch.

“So you don’t even want to try?”

The mix of anger and sadness felt so foreign being made from something Jake did.

He put his face in his hands, shaking it. “I don’t know, Mooney. I just don’t know.”

You watched with parted lips, trying to find the words to say with the tears budding in your eyes like the strawberry bushes Jake would help you tend to on your family’s farm.

“It shouldn't be this hard for you to decide what you want with me!” You borderline shouted, frustration mixing with agony like a potent toxin in your soul.

"I thought you loved me?" your wounded, defeated tone made Jake's heart clench. If you weren't so devastated, you would have caught the flinch from the boy in front of you. You knew Jake wanted to be a pilot, more than anything in the world.

But you didn’t think it would cost what you had with him.

“I need some air, I hope you find what you're looking for because clearly you aren't going to find it with me,” you rasped out, voice thick with emotion, staggering to your feet, finding your clothes littered on the floor, and hastily putting them on.

You half expected the boy that learned to have a response for anything to say something. Anything.

Stay.

I’m scared, too.

I love you.

We can figure this out, together.

But he remained silent as you slammed the door closed behind you; pleading, teary eyes following your body leave behind the cheap wooden door. He didn't even try to stop you. You hurried down the steps to the first level, finding a quiet area near the vending machines and their inviting glow, under the full moon and stars.

You leaned against the side of the machine, looking at all the near expired, wrapped goodies inside. All the goodies that Jake would have gladly shared with you. Now you weren’t so sure they meant anything. The familiar bubble of anguish and frustration became too much. You couldn’t hold it in any longer.

And so you cried.

You cried for the impending loss of the boy down the dirt road. You cried for the unfairness of your too separate dreams and what would feel like a million miles separating the two of you. You cried for the stark differences in both of your lives that made itself into a wedge between you both.

But most of all, you cried for the trying times that he didn’t want to try to fight for.

The ring of the bell above the glass door barely announced your presence to the packed bar. You had needed a break after unpacking the last box in your new home, and if you were going to be living in America’s Finest City, you should at least try to make some new friends. Afterall, you started work at the San Diego Tribune on Monday.

You drew your attention from the packed bar to the woman taking your order at the bar top, with her kind hazel, green eyes and shoulder length brunette hair. She couldn’t have been a day after 40.

“A rum and coke, please?”

She gave you a nod and kind smile before turning to prepare your drink. Rum and Cokes became your go to during college. Nobody sold strawberry moonshine where you settled.

It wouldn’t taste the same anyway.

Your eyes drew to the sea of people near the back deck and around the pool tables. The sea of beige military uniforms made your lip quirk.

Did he ever make it to flight school?

Your chest tightened at the memory of how things ended, and the realization that you hadn’t spoken in almost 15 years. Not since he was set to leave for Annapolis; you didn't show up to see him off, watching his dusty, red truck leave you as he drove away on the dirt road of his family’s ranch from your bedroom window. The last remnant of him evaporating into the dust his tires kicked up as he left.

Memories of a simpler time swirled in your mind like the drink in your hand.

Your ears perked up at the steady bass playing through the speakers.

Foghat’s "Slow Ride".

Memories of laughter and secret kisses with the farmboy down the road, whose dreams were too big for Texas.

Too big for you.

Your lip quirked into a frown as you sighed, taking a drink, eyes drifting to the jukebox in the corner of the bar. A well-built man leaned against it, obviously hitting on the girl with the miniskirt and tank top to his left. From where you sat, you could only make out the blush on the girl’s cheeks, not the identity of the man behind the flirtations. He looked handsome; his strong shoulders, buzzed brunette blond hair at the base of his neck.

Jake’s hair used to gleam the same way.

You took a drink from your glass just as the man turned around. To walk to the bar top with the girl in tow. The burning liquid stalling in your throat, your stomach clenching as his features registered. He looked older now, brow lines evident. Definitely taller and more well built than when you saw him leave. He hadn't lost that charming smile, or his handsome green eyes, or the small cluster of freckles on his neck line. Your lip quirked with a wave of intense nostalgia.

The girl that looked like she was in her mid to late twenties settled at the bar top, separating you from the man that you hadn’t seen or touched since the motel on route 79.

His eyes focused on her, giving her the same dimple-lidden smile you loved seeing in the hayloft during thunderstorms when you both wanted to get away from your families.

She turned towards the bartender to place her drink order. His gaze flitted from hers to Penny’s. His eyes do a double take on yours.

His posture straightened, lips parting, eyes staying on yours. Your eyes were held in a trance, placing your glass on the bar top. Before you had time to say anything, years of memories and missed memories took control.

“Mooney?”

@marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981 @a-beaverhausen @withahappyrefrain @hangmans-wingman @callmemana @joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @entertainmentgirl80 @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @teacupsandtopgun @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath-deactivated202410 @h-ngm-ns @emma8895eb @djs8891 @novastories @urmom-999 @taytaylala12 @zombicupcake3 @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30 @shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @gigisimsonmars @slippinginto-theairwaves @phoenix-rising-starbird-one

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #tgm #jake seresin fic #glen powell

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mrsarnold · 4 months ago

Text

౨ৎ — you remind my heart to beat

🍄 ; smut

⏰ ; fluff

🥤; angst

ppl to req for ! 🍄 :

WCBB :

UCONN

paige bueckers ;

daylight ⏰🍄

white ferrari ⏰ 🥤

sick day ⏰

marry you ⏰

kk arnold ;

b.e.d ⏰🍄

bad day ⏰🥤

ice brady ;

request ! 🍄

jana el alfy ;

redbone 🍄⏰

aubrey griffin ;

request ! ⏰

carolind ducharme ;

hyper headcanons ⏰

ayana patterson ;

request ! ⏰

morgan cheli ;

flaming hot cheetos ⏰

sarah strong ;

request !! 🍄

USC

juju watkins :

birthday sex🥤🍄⏰

power trip 🥤🍄⏰

im high asf probably mumbling 🍄⏰

headcanons ⏰

LSU

flau'jae johnson ;

request !

hvl ;

request !

ARIZONA STATE

jada williams ;

request !

KENTUCKY STATE

georgia amoore :

here with me ⏰

WNBA :

SEATTLE STORM :

nika mühl :

request !

gabby williams :

headcanons ⏰

LAS VEGAS ACES :

kate martin :

casual 🥤

a'ja wilson :

request !

sydney colson :

request !

INDIANA FEVER :

nalyssa smith :

request !

aliyah boston :

request !

NEW YORK LIBERTY

breanna stewart

request !

sabrina ionescu

request !

CHICAGO SKY

angel reese :

headcanons ⏰

chennedy carter :

request !

PHOENIX MERCURY

diana taurasi :

dream girl ⏰

britney griner :

your beauty inside and out ( coming soon ) 🍄

kahleah copper :

request !

MINNESOTA LYNX

naphessa collier :

request !

WASHINGTON MYSTICS

aaliyah edwards :

request !

shakira austin :

request !

LOS ANGELES SPARKS

zia cooke :

request !

NHL :

WISCONSIN

laila edwards :

headcanons 🍄⏰

kk harvey :

bed peace ⏰

SERIES !!

20191009 i like her ! - juju watkins🥤🍄⏰

thats all !! request any person i missed !! <3

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 months ago

Text

All Night

Summary: This man has been on my mind like nobody’s business and I need to do something about it

Pairing: Swerve Strickland x F!Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, masturbation (female receiving), dom x sub dynamics, edging, adult language.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

A/N: Thank you @theworldofotps for helping me choose the prompts 💕

-> Prompts are in red. And their credit goes to @delusionisaplace

“Are you ready?” He asked, eyes roaming her figure from behind, admiring how the pale blue silk dress laid on her body.

“Almost. Can you help me?” The small sapphire blue flower pendant dangled from the delicate chain draped around her forefinger.

“Of course, Sunshine” Swerve smirked, placing himself behind her. His long fingers covered her hand, softly pulling the necklace away from her grip. He unclasped the gold locket, placing it around her neck and softly securing it at her nape.

Her scent attracted him like a moth to the flame, his soft lips pressed against the side of her neck, above the pulse point. Swerve’s full lips parted as his tongue darted out to leave a wet trail on her skin.

“If you start this we’re going to get late” She sighed deeply, leaning back to rest her head on his shoulder.

She felt the pressure against her skin, along with the warmness of his breath as he spoke with a smirk “I’m not starting anything, I’m just making sure you’re fully ready”

“Oh, I am getting very ready” She teases, half jokingly.

Placing her hand on the back of his head, her fingers toyed with his mint-scented dreads, playing with the soft tips of his hair.

“I’ll fact-check that in a moment, you can be sure of that” Swerve teases back, sucking harder on her neck until her soft moans make him pull back to admire the glistening skin.

“There you go” He gave one last final lick on her pulse point “So everyone knows you're mine”.

“Baby, why did you have to do that right now?” She whined, failing to hide her desire behind the complaint.

“Because I felt like it” Swerve’s left hand pulled up her silk dress and balled up a bunch of fabric at her hips. His free hand sank into her baby blue lace panties, his warm palm covered her mound, long middle and ring finger circling her wet entrance.

“And because you belong to me, heart and soul” His fingers entered her pussy, filling her up in the most delicious way, causing her to moan louder.

“You’re mine, Sunny, aren’t you? So I can claim you whenever I want, no?”

“Yes, Sir”.

“It sounds selfish, but I can't help but want you all to myself. Even right now” His eyes met hers on the mirror reflection “The only thing I can think of is tossing you onto that bed and doing the most nasty things to you”. Swerve’s fingers turned up their pace, relentlessly thrusting in and out of her.

“Baby, please…Fuck” She grunted when his palm pressed down on her clit. “Oh shit, do that. Please, do all of that”

“Oh, I will” He chuckled against her ear, “But not right now”.

Swerve suddenly stepped back, making her instantly miss his fingers and body. The sarcastic grin plastered on his lips only served to make her even more frustrated.

“I hate when you do that! Can’t you show me some mercy before we go?” Her hands caressed his suit-covered chest “You’ve been teasing me all day, I’m not sure if I can take it”

“Of course you can take it, Sunshine” Swerve teased, his devious grin only grew as he placed her hand on top of his clothed erection and earned a small whimper from her lips.

“If you want this cock inside you, you will take everything I’ll put you through. You’ll receive every teasing and every time I edge you on that wedding tonight you’ll put a pretty smile on that face and a soft ‘Thank you, Sir’ will come out from those soft lips, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir”

“That’s my good girl, Sunny” Swerve placed a soft kiss on her lips “Are you ready to go now?”

She only nodded in return, making him chuckle “Good, let’s go”.

Swerve stopped by their bedroom door and turned to her with a sinister smile “Lady’s first”.

Her brows frowned in concern as her gaze stopped at his smile, it was her silent warning, Swerve was up to something and she was almost certain it would be something that she would despise.

As she passed by him to reach the stairs, the soft buzzing sound coming from between her thighs paired with her shaky moan made her realize that this was about to be a long, long night for her.

#swerve strickland x reader #swerve strickland imagine #swerve strickland fanfiction #swerve strickland #aew x reader #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #masochist writes

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theworldofotps · 10 months ago

Text

Daddy's Brat

Pairing: Randy Orton x Reader Word Count: 1,123 Description: You're upset that Randy decided to invite friends over instead of spending time together.

Warning: A little smut, some oral male receiving enjoy

Got this idea from Randy pulling on Paul Heyman's tie last night and just the man existing. Also realized I only have one other piece of Randy writing and its only from Christmas which is a problem in itself, so I needed to fix that. __________Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @99hook @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera

If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. ________ You knew you were in for it when Randy’s expression tightened, the two of you were entertaining friends for the day. It had been a while since the two of you had been alone since he was busy away at work most of the time. You were hoping it would just be you two for the day but that was quickly lost when he told you that your friends and his coworkers would be over in an hour after walking up. Putting on a smile after sighing you got ready and had spent most of the morning and into early afternoon talking over a large range of topics. Followed by one of Randy’s favorite lunches you had prepared especially for him.

Everything was going well until you felt that all too familiar itching desire to have Randy put you in your place. You couldn’t help it, the time apart and now him being right here but not having laid a hand on you since he got back home. Was driving you mad with want and the need to be as bratty as you possibly could. You’d had enough practice where your friends wouldn’t take notice but Randy sure would.

Like when you purposely spilled his drink down his white shirt to see the fabric cling to his body or questioned him on everything he said under your breath. The occasional snide comment here and there that got a chuckle from everyone else but a narrowing of the eyes from your boyfriend. When your guests finally left, and the door closed you watched as Randy stood staring at the closed door.

Very quietly you backed up and slowly turned to start making your way from the hall.

“Don’t move another step y/n.”

Staring at him in shock you frown, he never called you by your name unless he was referring to you while talking to someone.

“That’s not what you call me.”

You huff crossing your arms as he turned towards you, his eyes pinning you to the floor as he locked the front door.

“You think you deserve to have me call you by anything else when you were being such a brat?”

“Regardless of what I do I am always a nickname.”

Stomping a foot, you watch as he actually had the nerve to chuckle at you turning you quickly leave the living room.

“I don’t remember telling you to move.”

“Well, I don’t remember asking you.”

Randy stopped short just for a moment as he watched you, so this was the game you were playing when his schedule was clear for the rest of the day, and he planned on using it to his full advantage. You didn’t hear him following you up the stairs, only knew he was there when a hand grabbed the back of your neck. Guiding you into the bedroom Randy closed the door and released his hold on your neck spinning you to face him.

“What was with that attitude today?”

“What attitude?”

“You still choosing to be a brat?”

“Yep.”

Popping the “P” you watched him with a smirk waiting to see what he was going to do, Randy rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. A faint chuckle reaching your ears, you could feel your body run cold as he slowly started walking towards you. Randy reached out, capturing your chin in his hand and pressed you into the wall.

“Someone upset because they haven’t got the attention they’ve been wanting?”

Your silence was the only confirmation he needed; Randy leaned over pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry we’ve been so busy, and that this morning was a surprise to you. I’ve just been trying to get everything done before turning our phones off for the next two days. I didn’t forget that you need attention.”

You could feel the bratty behavior slowly slipping away and offered a small smile that was until he scooped you up over his shoulder and carried you towards the bed. Sitting Randy laid you over his lap and slapped your ass quickly a few times.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh language that pretty mouth should only be used for two things right now sucking daddy’s cock and telling him how badly you want this.”

Biting your lip to hold back the moan you gasp as his hand connects with your ass again.

“I know you want to moan baby why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Mmm, I always love when I have to fuck the brat out of you.”

Gently pushing you off his lap Randy captured your chin again watching as your eyes widen when he starts sliding his free hand under your shirt. Feeling your soft skin as he made his way down to your shorts.

“I missed you while I was away.”

He mumbled his thumb sliding back and forth across your bottom lip before pushing it between your lips. His other hand found its way into your panties where his finger dragged along your slit that smirk that made you first fall for him crossed his features again.

“I knew you always enjoyed when daddy slapped that pretty ass and this just confirms it.”

A soft whimper left your throat as you sucked his thumb feeling one of his fingers slide into your pussy with ease. Randy inhaled through his nose as he watched you. It always made him weak in the knees to see you like this. Feeling his cock straining against his pants Randy stepped back and pulled them down, licking your wetness from his fingers while you worked to free him from his boxers. Your lips wrapping around him had Randy groaning in pleasure.

Your tongue flattened as you slowly took more of him in your mouth, your head slowly moving back and forth as your cheeks hollowed to form a suction. Randy’s fingers tangled in your hair as he started moving his hips watching as you choked a bit when he hit the back of your throat. Tears springing to your eyes as you moaned softly.

“That’s it brat let daddy use your mouth fuck so wet.”

Randy’s head fell back for a moment as he tried to collect himself before looking back down at you. The sight of you choking on his cock made it twitch in your mouth. Pulling you off he picks you up dropping you on the bed.

“We’ll finish that later but right now I need to fuck you before I lose my mind.”

He spreads your thighs pressing a kiss to each knee then slowly slides into your wet heat both of you moaning as your walls stretched to fit him. You knew that you were in for a very long night.

#randy orton fanfiction #Randy Orton #randy orton x reader

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mystic-story-lover · 1 year ago

Note

can i get ace & bey smut please 🫣

~ And New ~

Ace Austin x Chris Bey x Zoe (OC Female!Reader)

Word Count: 1183

Warnings: 18+, penetration, blowjob, male orgasm, cum play, female orgasm

Type: Smut

Summary: Ace and Chris come up with a clever way to celebrate winning the tag titles

A/n: Here you go anon, I hope this is what you were looking for!!

(Gif Is Mine)

~~~

“Ace, man, we’re running out of time. We have to go.” Chris groaned, and shook his head. He’d spent the past ten minutes scourging through the ABC’s locker room searching for Ace’s jacket, but they’d come up empty handed.

“I need my jacket Chris. Without it, the whole look falls apart.” Ace sighed before tossing his clothes back into the bag he retrieved them from.

A soft rapt of knocks on their locker room door caught the two men off guard, and Chris stepped towards it. He opened it in one swift motion, and laughed when he saw me consumed by the jacket. Hearing his friend laugh, Ace turned, spotting the scene in the doorway.

“So that’s where my jacket has been.” Ace laughed, and he smiled at me.

“I was cold.” I smiled up at him, waving my arms in his sleeves. “Plus it smells like you.”

“Zoe, I swear, this dude had me searching all over the room for that thing.” Chris sighed dramatically, playfully shoving Ace towards me.

“It’s for the look tonight man, you get that more than anyone.” Ace laughed, and stepped towards me.

Reaching out, he used one hand to unzip the jacket, revealing the purple crop top I was wearing. When I asked for his opinion on what to wear to the show tonight, and he suggested the top with my blue denim shorts. It was a personal favorite look of his, being as it was the outfit I wore the day he met me. I gasped as the cool air came in contact with my stomach.

“Okay, can we please go now that you have your jacket? We have a promo to cut.” Chris stepped toward us, and extended his hand to point at the door.

“Alright, I just need to grab my glasses.” Ace spoke, and I laughed, pointing to the top of his head. There rests his red sunglasses. “Never mind then, let’s go.”

~~~

After their promo earlier in the night, Ace and Chris earned a tag title shot against the Motor City Machine Guns. Everyone was excited about the match, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I watched Ace get ready.

“What do you keep smiling at?” Ace asked, looking at her through the mirror so he could do his eyeliner.

“I get to watch my boyfriend become a champion again. Can’t I be happy to see that?” I giggled, a wide smile still spread across my face.

“That is going to be too sweet.” Ace chuckled, and he raised the eyeliner pencil to his eye.

“You’re so lucky that you’re cute.” I sighed, shaking my head at his pun.

~~~

“Do you like the way he fucks you baby?” Ace cooed, thrusting his cock deeper in my mouth.

I moaned around his length, and looked up at him with teary eyes. His head was lowered, staring down at me as he began to pick up his pace. With each thrust, I could feel him hitting the back of my throat, causing me to gag. Behind me, Chris had set a rough pace, thrusting in and out of my pussy with ease.

“Look at her man, she loves both of us using her body. Don’t you baby?” Ace asked, and I moaned in response again.

“She looks so hot with our belts around her body.” Chris groaned, his thrusts began to get sloppy. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding Ace, she feels so good around me.”

He gave a few more thrusts in me before pulling out and stroking his cock. I heard him groan before I felt his hot ropes of cum land on my back, and a finger run through them. Ace pulled out of my mouth, making me whine. Chris brought his finger in front of my lips, and I took the cum covered digit into my mouth, sucking it clean. When his finger was clean, I released it with a pop.

“Fuck, that was hot.” Ace groaned. “You want to fuck her mouth man?”

“Hell yeah man.” Chris replied, and Ace stepped back, giving Chris room to come in.

Chris began to slide into my mouth, and finished thrusting in quickly. His cock hit the back of my throat, and he rested there for a second. While I waited for him to move, Ace slid into me, and slowly thrusted, giving me the chance to adjust to his size. Once he was able to move faster, Chris began to thrust in my mouth. They set two different paces, and I moaned around Chris’ cock from the feeling.

“Fuck baby, your squeezing me. Do you want to come? Is that what you want, baby?” Ace groaned, smacking my ass, causing a muffled squeal to come from me. “Hold it baby, be a good girl for me.”

“I’m gonna come. Fuck.” Chris moaned, sending his cum into my mouth, as he gave a few more thrusts before pulling out. He placed a hand under my chin, and lifted my head. “Swallow it for me.”

I did as he said, and swallowed, before opening my mouth to reveal there was none left. He groaned, stroking my cheek with his thumb. Ace began to thrust faster, hitting my sweet spot and making me moan.

“Ace, fuck, feels so good baby.” I moaned, throwing my head back.

Taking the opportunity, Ace leaned forward, and spit in my open mouth. I swallowed again, to open my mouth for him to see, and he groaned before I could feel his thrusts begin to get sloppy. He moved one hand from my hips down to my clit, rubbing circles on it with his thumb. I moaned again at the feeling.

“Come for me baby, I know you want to. Soak my fucking cock like a good girl.” Ace groaned.

I moaned loudly, the pleasure becoming too much for me. I could feel myself clenching around him, and then I felt Chris pinching my nipple, sending me over the edge. My vision went white, and I shuddered, my juices coating Ace’s cock, as I moaned.

“Fuck, you did so well for me baby.” Ace said, thrusting into me three more times. “Oh fuck. Shit, yes. I’m coming.”

We laid there in silence for a moment, collecting our breaths. After the moment passed, Ace slid out of me, and collapsed onto the bed. I laid down, relaxing into the bed, and he pulled me into his side. Chris joined us in the bed, and we all laid there comfortably.

“You know, Ace, I’m glad you suggested this to me.” Chris chuckled, bringing one of his hands to rub my back.

“Me too, that was hot as hell.” Ace laughed.

“I think we should do it again.” I stated, raising my head from the mattress. Both men were looking at me, sharing an expression on their faces. “Not right now, you perverts. I need time to rest.”

They both laughed at my comment, and Ace slid a hand under my chin, lifting it. He placed a tender kiss on my lips, causing me to smile.

“Can we get these belts off me?”

#ace austin #ace austin smut #ace austin imagine #ace austin x reader #chris bey #chris bey smut #chris bey imagine #chris bey x reader #~my story :) ~#anon request #impact imagine #impact wrestling smut

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s1k0zu · 8 months ago

Text

Hey everyone,

While I was a bit (okay a lot) late to board the Austin train, once I did, I fell HARD. Before I saw him in Dune II, I knew about him, but never thought to take a second look.

Then I saw Dune and I still can't get Austin's performance out of my head. He was amazing! 😍

I've devoured everything I can find with him since then, and I've been reading a lot of fan fiction lately, and a scene has been playing on repeat in my mind, so I decided to write it down.

I love all the Feyd fics but I find myself wanting more of Austin and less of Feyd (he's just a bit too intense and I kinda miss the hair). So I came up with the idea below.

Let me know if you liked it and if you want me to try writing about something else. 🫣

Fair warning ⚠️ I've never written any fiction before, so this will probably be a mess...and it's maybe a bit too long.

🔞 It's pure smut, so minors stay away!

Under his skin

You and Austin have been together since before his Elvis movie.

You'd met when you were teenagers and became fast friends, but until you had to spend two weeks locked together in his apartment in Australia, because of the pandemic, that was all you were - friends.

You'd visited him for the weekend and then the lockdown forced you to stay.

The tension between the two of you had started escalating gradually, until one night he couldn't resist kissing you any longer. All it took was that one kiss and you were his forever.

You started getting jobs in the crew of all of his projects so you could stay together, which is why you're now in Budapest on the set of Dune II.

It's early morning and it's already as hot as hell. Add to that the giant sound box you've been setting up, so Austin can film his fight scenes in it later, and you're close to fainting.

You haven't seen Austin in two months, because he was busy training in L.A. and you were on location in Jordan with the rest of the cast.

You flew in with the night flight, dropped your bags at his place and went straight to set. He was already there, getting into costume, and you didn't have the time to see him.

Once you're done setting up and finally have some free time you head to his trailer to surprise him and wish him luck.

You open the door and cool air hits your face. Then you see him and you're sure the chill running down your body isn't from the AC.

He's gloriously naked, a black loincloth is all that covers his body. They've painted his torso with black lines and he's got his bald cap already in place. You've seen him in full costume before, but only in photos. This hits differently.

There's something feral and imposing about him and it's doing things to you. Gone is the sweet, gentle Austin you know and in his place is a man who exudes power and dominance.

His body is pure perfection and you know how hard he worked to get here.

"Hey, Earth to y/n. Are you ok?" Austin's voice comes through the fog.

"Yeah", you sigh, "It's just..."

"What?", he asks, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

"Let's just say if you weren't about to shoot, I'd be ruining your makeup right now", you say, raking your gaze over his gorgeous naked body.

"Fuck", he mutters and steps toward you, biting his lower lip, his eyes darkening with want.

"Ah, ah", you stop him, placing a hand on his chest, "makeup."

"Damn you woman! How am I supposed to focus now?", he asks brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

"Hey, I'm not the one wearing next to nothing here," you tell him, "and you're not the only one having a hard time focusing."

You brush your lips against his and his hands instantly grip your face as he deepens the kiss. All the frustration of not being able to touch each other for the past two months melts as your tongues dance frantically, fighting for dominance.

"I'll make you a deal," you say, panting, "you go slay them with your talent and we can come back here during the lunch break, to finish this."

"Deal", he says huskily in your ear, melting you with his beautiful voice.

A crew member comes in to call him to set and breaks the tension before you two can go any further.

You watch him perform, always in awe of his ability to switch between himself and the character in seconds. You busy yourself with work and bringing him water bottles and towels between takes, and just like that the hours go by and it's time for lunch.

"I can't wait to take this thing off my head. I'm sweating like a pig," Austin says, taking a towel from your hands. He's been doing fighting scenes for the past hour and he's in full combat get up.

"I'll stick around to help with the set. Text me when you're done and we can take a shower," you say, walking your fingers playfully up his chest. You lean up to give him a quick kiss but he grabs your waist to keep you there, turning it into a steamy makeout session.

"I've missed you so much," Austin breathes out, his forehead touching yours.

"I've missed you too," you say, tilting his head lower to kiss his nose.

You disengage and he heads to his trailer so the makeup team can remove his bold cap.

A while later you get a text from Austin:

R u coming? We had a deal remember?

You mutter an excuse and head towards his trailer, willing yourself not to run.

When you enter, you see him running a hand through his wet hair, the bald cap gone. He still hasn't removed his costume.

"Want some help with that my lord", you ask, starting to unzip the back of his wetsuit.

When he hears you call him that Austin feels a shiver run down his body. He turns and wraps his arms around you.

"Say that again," he growls.

His eyes are dark with desire and you swear you can see Feyd still lurking in the background, ready to pounce.

"You should play the bad guy more often. It's a good look on you...my lord."

"Yeah? Wanna show me just how much you like it?"

You grip his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and kiss him long and hard, your tongues fighting for dominance. You bite his lip when he pulls away and the groan that escapes from his throat sets your whole body on fire.

He returns the favour by placing kisses on your jaw and down your neck. When he reaches your collarbone he gives it a bite in just the right spot, making heat pool between your legs.

You lean into him, feeling his erection against you and bite his earlobe, whispering into his ear: "I want you inside me."

Austin's hands tighten on your ass and he gives you a smouldering look. His blue eyes are dark with desire as he dives in to kiss you again.

You start undressing each other frantically, hands running all over, tongues locked in a dizzying dance. The room fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, your moans, Austin's groans and wet kisses.

He grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the shower.

You're both panting while he turns around to fidget with the water tap. You admire his naked body while he adjusts the temperature. He's a work of art - all lean muscle chiselled to perfection.

Your eyes travel down his chest to the trail of hair under his belly button and between his thighs and the sizeable erection he's got. His penis is perfect: a round red tip, its length marbled by veins. You can't wait to taste it and feel it inside you.

You can't believe he's yours.

"My eyes are up here, gorgeous", Austin's amused voice brings you out of your dazed wet dream.

"And what a sight they are," you smile up at him.

After seeing you standing gloriously naked before him, raking your lust-filled stare over his body, Austin can't hold himself back any longer.

His hands come up to grab your face and he bends down to devour you. As the kiss deepens, Austin's hands travel down your body, lingering on your breasts. He pinches one of your nipples and you moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to look at you.

Before you can answer he bends down and licks your neck, slowly descending to your left nipple.

"Fuck you're gorgeous. I can't wait to be inside you."

You start kissing his neck, his chest, his abs, your hands trailing down to his hips. His skin tastes salty from the sweat. You kneel in front of him and lick his length slowly, feeling the veins with your tongue. He lets out a groan and braces himself against the tiled wall.

You place tiny nibbles on the head, squeezing his balls, teasing him. He shudders in ecstasy as you swallow as much of his length as you can and start moving your head up and down slowly.

"Fuck, y/n, you have to stop or I'll come...," Austin pants on top of you. You speed up your pace, locking eyes with him.

Seeing you kneeling before him, your mouth on him, looking at him like that drives him over the edge. Austin comes with a groan and you feel his seed spill into your throat. You take him out of your mouth and give the head a little kiss.

"You taste so fucking good every time," you say standing up.

Austin grabs your cheeks and gives you a rough kiss.

"You have no idea how hot you look on your knees, do you?"

When one of his hands sneaks between your legs and he rubs his fingers on your clit you feel a jolt run over your whole body and you can't stop the moan coming out of your mouth.

Austin hears you moan, hands digging into his back and throws caution away - he bites down hard on your nipple, sliding his fingers into you.

"Fuck Austin", is all you can say, your mind going blank with pleasure. You don't know what's gotten into him, but you love this new, dangerous and dominant side he's showing you.

Austin places wet kisses and nibbles all over your breasts and stomach, pumping his fingers into you. You writhe in his arms, hands tugging his hair.

When his mouth descends on your clit you moan loudly. He bites it and then licks the sore spot, curling his fingers inside you. This sends jolts of electricity all over your body and you feel yourself coming, nails digging into his hair.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, voice hoarse from lust. You can feel his hard length pressing against your entrance.

Austin groans in pleasure when he hears you moan his name, the pain from your nails digging into his scalp sending bolts of pleasure straight to his groin.

He gets up, grabs your hips and lifts you, your back against the tiled wall.

You look at his soft, puffy lips and can't help kissing him again. Austin groans and slips his tongue into your mouth, making you dizzy.

When he finally breaks the kiss to look at you, you see the passion burning in his eyes, but there's something else there too - something feral. You realise he hasn't shaken Feyd off completely.

That sparks something in you, emboldens you.

"Have your way with me, my lord na-Baron. I'm all yours", you say, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling on it, your hips bucking into him.

Hearing you say that, something in Austin snaps. He can't think anymore, all he knows is that he wants to be inside you, now.

With a quiet growl he bends down to crash his lips into yours, sliding into you in one swift move.

You can't help the cry that comes out of your mouth when he slams into you. You were already wet, but he's big.

The sharp pain quickly turns into intense pleasure as he starts thrusting into you with abandon. You can feel every vein on his hard length as he's stretching you and filling you in the best way.

You've been together for years and every time he enters you feels like the first time. It's like your bodies are pieces of the same puzzle. The feel of him inside you is divine.

Austin doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size, he couldn't even if he wanted to. He's possessed by the desire to be inside you, to own you. He picks up his pace, slamming into you, his teeth leaving red marks all over your neck and shoulders. His left hand is moulded to your thigh, his right squeezing your breast.

You've never seen him like this, so forceful and primal, and you realise you love it. As the pain shoots through the pleasure you find yourself coming, trying not to scream. You mould your lips to Austin's to stifle your moans and that just spurs him on. He continues to slam into you, balls-deep, throughout your climax.

After a while, Austin comes to his senses and realises he's too rough, he's hurting you. Just as he slows down his pace, releasing you from his grip, he hears you say:

"No, don't hold back. I want you to lose control. Ravage me."

He looks into your eyes, making sure he didn't just imagine that, and sees only carnal desire and love there. He can't believe you're his.

"Fuck, I love you," he whispers.

You smile and bite his neck hard. The little control he'd managed to take back shatters. Austin slips out of you so he can turn you around, your back towards him, and slams back into you.

One of his hands travels to your neck and squeezes, the other goes to your nipple.

This angle helps him sink even deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much and you feel the waves of another orgasm coming. Sex with Austin is always great but this is different. He's lost all control and given in to his desire, and you fucking love it.

Austin feels your walls clenching around him and he knows you're close. The hand around your throat tightens as he moves his other hand from your breast to your clit, running his fingers in agonisingly slow circles, and right before you come he inserts two fingers in.

The feeling of his fingers and his hard length inside you is too much and you trip over the edge, your whole body shaking. You claw at his neck and bury your fingers into his hair as he swallows your moans with a kiss when you both come.

You've never seen this side of him before. He's always so protective of you, so gentle. You realise he's been holding himself back, afraid to lose control and hurt you.

He looks at you apprehensively and you smile at him, tugging him close so you can wrap your hands around his neck and give him a slow, tender kiss.

For a while the only sounds in the shower are the running water and your heavy breathing as you're both coming down from your highs.

Eventually, Austin lets you go and eases out of you with a groan. Your legs are shaking as you lean onto the tile wall while he turns around to adjust the showerhead.

He melts into you, relieved you're okay.

You disengage and proceed with your shower, washing each other's hair and bodies, placing soft kisses here and there.

When you're done, Austin stops the water. He swaddles you in a huge fluffy towel, picks you up and carries you to the bed.

He lies next to you on his side, head propped up, facing you, tiny droplets of water running down his face and torso.

"I'm sorry", he says quietly, giving you a sad puppy look and caressing your face.

"For what? Giving me multiple orgasms?"

"No..." he laughs and then falls silent.

"I hurt you. I don't know what came over me."

"Not what, who. You've still got some of Feyd lurking in the background," you say a soft smile playing on your lips.

"That's not an excuse y/n. I should've stopped...I should've..." he trails off, looking remorseful.

"I don't know if you noticed Butler but I liked it. A lot", you lift his head so he can look at you.

"I'm not made of china you know. Promise me you'll stop holding back on me. This was fucking amazing."

"Yeah it was, wasn't it," he says, finally relaxing, "Okay, but on one condition: you promise to tell me if I cross the line."

"Deal," you say and mould your lips over his.

#austin butler #fiction #feyd x you #austin x reader #smut #austin butler smut #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #first time writer #fanfic

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Text

Hayloft - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x dancer!reader

series masterlist

Joel thought they were joking, really. But when his patrol partners lead him through the back of the Tipsy Bison and slip down a dim flight of stairs, he realizes rather quickly that The Hayloft is no joke.

warnings | 18+ smut (duh), angst, joel being a ding dong

a/n | thanks must be given to @pedgeitopascal for letting me take on this idea <3

songs of this chapter:

I can't quit you babe - Led Zeppelin

Queen of boredness - Kinny

Do I move you? - Nina Simone

..............................

Joel pulls on a faint memory at the periphery of his mind. A summer day in Austin, he and Tommy sitting on the curb outside their childhood home with their knees up to their ears, sweating in the stifling warmth of the afternoon. Barely-dropped voices murmuring back and forth as Joel flipped through the magazine held between them. He had been trying to act cool, like his first year of middle school had manned him up compared to his younger brother. But he remembers that thick heat creeping up his throat, and a flush that couldn’t just be chalked up to the Texas sun as their eyes roamed over bare bodies, spread legs, and faces contorted in what they supposed was pleasure. They had found the old Playboy tucked under their parents’ mattress, bored out of their melting minds and stewing in the AC. It was the first time he could remember feeling like that, somewhere between curious and uncomfortable, excited and ashamed.

He thinks about it now as he experiences that same feeling, forty years and change later, sitting in the basement of the Tipsy Bison.

“Where the fuck did they get those shoes?”

“There’s a mall, 15 miles south.” “They didn’t sell shoes like that at malls, man.” Joel is inclined to agree with the man making the observation on that point, wearily eyeing the dizzying struts of heels on the stage in front of him. He only lets his eyes wander upward briefly, spanning bare legs, catching a glance of scrappy lace, before turning his face back down to the swirling whiskey in his glass.

Honestly, when one of the men on his patrol team mentioned this place, Joel thought it was a joke, muttering a gruff “yeah, sure” when they invited him along for a night at The Hayloft. But he realized he was sorely mistaken when the group of men guided him into the Tipsy Bison, promptly walking through the door to the back where they kept all their kegs and slipping down a flight of dimly lit steps.

He recognized a few people immediately in the glowing red light, other men he had been on patrol with, playing pool and smoking in the back of the room. But most of them were seated, eyes glued to the raised platform in the center of what was clearly a bar, beneath a bar. It took a second for his brain to catch up to a sight so completely unexpected.

Swaying hips, curving spines, flicking hair, wandering hands, and dipping legs. Women, looking like something straight out of a porn film.

Now listen, Joel Miller was raised by a mother who taught him to be a gentleman, and as such, he had never once been in an establishment like this place, not before, and certainly not after the world fell apart. But, he is a man, afterall, and he can’t exactly help the way his eyes keep darting to one particular figure shimmying around on the stage. So, as he sits amongst his patrol partners, taking zinging sips of liquor, he feels that familiar heat creeping up his throat, making him stiffen up in more ways than one.

The music changes all of a sudden, a man’s rasped shout and a dragging guitar riff laid over a slumped drumbeat. He recognizes it, though he can’t quite place it in the haze. There’s four women up on the stage, and while three of them step down, slinking amongst the seated men, the other one, the one Joel has been watching, crooks her arm around the pole he had thought was only for decoration.

He no longer tries to hide his stare, watching the arc of her hips as she dips and snaps her hair out of her face, the thin fabric of what could only be described as panties pulling taut across the curve of her ass. She moves like liquid, curling around the pole and lifting up into the air, neck stretched long as she arches back in a perfect spin.

“She’s good, right?” Joel glances at Harris, his patrol partner who just spoke, grunting something noncommittal at the man’s broad grin, not wanting to miss a second of her performance. And a performance it most certainly is. She’s perfect, glowing in the faint red lights of the bar, every outstretched leg, every twist and bend, radiant and divine. Suspended in air, one arm elongated, before tracing a line of desire with her palm dragging down her bare torso, hips swerving obscenely up into the flicker of her fingertips. And then, with the next staggering string of guitar chords, she drops, catching herself at just the last moment. A delicate heel is lowered, followed by the other as the room resounds in applause, Joel only now realizing that he needs to pick his jaw up off the table.

The track changes, a stilted rhythm that she starts to bob her head side to side to as she steps down off the stage. Even her walk is like a dance, hips swaying, hands grazing the sides of her bare thighs as she moves, and Joel realizes too late that she’s coming directly toward their table.

“Harris, who’s your friend?”

“Cherry, this is Joel Miller. He’s new in town. Joel, this is Cherry.” She tilts her head at him, a simpering smile crinkling her eyes as she leans forward, breasts all but spilling out of the cups of her bra. Joel stutters into motion when it clicks in his brain that she’s holding out her hand for him to shake, his palm sliding against hers in a firm squeeze.

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller. What’d you think of the show?” He has to clear his throat a few times before he speaks, an icy heat prickling the back of his neck all the while.

“I, um– you’re something else.” Jesus fucking christ, that’s the best you could do? She, however, seems to like his answer, smile broadening into a grin.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me–” Her eyes glance down and back up to Joel, twice, and he only figures out that it’s because he’s still holding her hand when she gives his palm another squeeze. He’s quick to let go of her hand, though he wishes he hadn’t. But his dismay dissolves with the sight of her walking away, and the way her ass shakes with each sublime step. He cranes his neck, only catching a glimpse of her slipping through a door in the back of the bar.

“Easy, Miller. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

“Where’s that door go?” Harris laughs, shaking his head.

“Look, man, don’t worry about that. Everyone falls in love with Cherry when they first see her. But it’ll pass. She’s off-limits.”

“Why?” Harris shrugs.

“She just is. They all are. Keeps things civil, y’know?” Joel has no interest in being civil, not right now. He hasn’t wanted something this bad in a long time, and even though Harris tries to call him back, he doesn’t so much as tilt his head in acknowledgement as he wades through the simmering haze of the bar toward the door he saw her go through.

He only briefly wonders at just how big this basement is when he shoulders through the door and into a dimly lit hallway.

“Nat, is that you? Did your set finish already?” Her voice is coming from behind a cracked door further down the hallway, which Joel follows with little thought to it.

“What the fuck?” It’s a blurry string of events. He catches the quickest glimpse of her when he sidesteps through the door, seeing her standing in front of a mirror, her bra loose and unfastened, hanging on her shoulders. But it becomes apparent pretty fast that this was possibly the stupidest (and creepiest) way he could have tried to get her attention when she catches sight of him in the periphery of the mirror, whipping around and startling a few feet back before hurling something small at him that still hurts like hell when it makes contact with his forehead.

“Jesus– shit!” He instinctively curls over himself, one hand on his thigh and the other pressing into the spot just above his eyebrow that seems to be bleeding from what he now sees was a hairbrush.

“What the hell is your problem, man? You thought you could get an extra look? You think you’re special, huh? Is that it?” His head is reeling, and it’s all he can do to straighten back up, still applying pressure to his well-deserved wound. In the time it’s taken him to collect himself, she’s slipped a robe on, tied close and tight around her waist.

“N-no, no. That isn’t– I just– wanted to talk, um, to you.” He feels like he’s got cotton in his mouth, gumming up his words and drying out his throat until it all comes out garbled and wrong. She lets out a bitter laugh, brushing past him and opening the door wider, fixing him with a hard look.

“Yeah, nice try, buddy. But I’ve heard that one before, and lemme tell you, that’s not how this works. Now get out.” She doesn’t have to tell him twice, Joel shuffling through the door, though he stops for a moment to say something.

“I’m– I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I swear, this ain’t how I am, normally. Fuck– I’m just– I’m sorry.” He doesn’t wait around for a response from her, hurrying back down the hall and out into the bar, not even looking for Harris as he makes a beeline for the stairs, taking them two at a time and getting the fuck out of the Hayloft and the Tipsy Bison.

The fresh night air is something of a relief, though Joel is still mortified, thick and heavy guilt settling in his bones as he stumbles home. He realizes now that he had been a fucking fool, thinking that she had, what? Been flirting with him? He scoffs to himself, knowing that it had just been a part of her act, her performance. And Joel bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

When he gets home, he takes a shower, scrubbing harshly at his skin, trying to clean away the sickening shame settled just beneath the surface. He knew better, he was raised better, and he’s horrified with himself that even at his age, he wound up thinking with his dick rather than his mind. Looking in the mirror, he sees the sizable cut, just over his left eyebrow, what will serve as a reminder to him to not get distracted by pretty, shiny things.

He doesn’t sleep well, tossing and turning in his sheets. The only real conclusion he reaches is that he’ll never set foot in the Tipsy Bison, or the Hayloft, again.

…

Joel is not having a good morning. Normally he’d feel at least a twinge of contentment in working at the stables, but today, the only thing he can focus on is his pounding headache and the embarrassing memory of last night.

He had only barely escaped Ellie’s questioning earlier this morning when she came downstairs and into the kitchen, telling him that he “seemed pissier than usual” before asking him where he got “that dinky little cut.”

Luckily, working the stables usually means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone except for the horses, the quiet tasks helping somewhat to ease his mind. His relief is short-lived, however, when he hears a newly familiar voice nearing the stables. Sure enough, when he peers out of the stables, he sees her, leading one of the new colts around the pen. While she looks a lot different than how she did last night, blue jeans and a ratty work coat hiding her figure, Joel would recognize that smile anywhere. Before he can return to hauling sacks of feed around, her eyes catch his, and she clearly does a double take, squinting at him in the morning sun.

“Hey.” A single word, a jerk of her chin, and then she’s walking over to him, and Joel suddenly has no clue what to do with his hands, shoving them deep in the front pockets of his jeans.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, head tilted as she stands before him. Joel has enough sense this morning not to come off like a total fool.

“Again, I’m real sorry about last night. I wasn’t thinking, at all. It won’t happen again, I promise.” She sighs, toeing her boot into the dirt before glancing back up at him.

“Thank you for your apology. It’s fine, really. You weren’t the first, and lord knows you won’t be the last. I guess it kinda comes with the territory.” The laugh she lets out is clipped, clearly trying to hide the sore tinge to her words.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am before.” It’s unexpected, the wry crook of her smile as she says it, and Joel has to huff out a laugh, rocking a bit on his heels. But his laugh fizzles out when she brushes her fingers over his forehead, leaning up and tracing his cut.

“That hairbrush did a little number on you, huh? Sorry about that.” Her touch is gone as quick as it had been there, but the warmth creeping across his face remains.

“S’alright. Reckon I deserved it anyways.” That earns him another smile and a light laugh.

“Yeah, I guess you did.” Her words come out airy, the quirk of her grin telling him that she means it as much as she’s joking about it, and it emboldens him just enough to say something else.

“Can I ask you something?” She purses her lips, squinting up at him.

“You can ask, and maybe I’ll answer.”

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?”

“You’re new, right? It may be a small town, but everyone works. I’ve been here for years and there’s probably still folks I don’t know just because we’re on different work schedules.”

“And is that– what you do at the bar– is that work?” She hums at his question, all smiles when she answers.

“Did that look like work to you?” His mind darts back to last night, her performance, and he has to swallow hard around the memory. She huffs out a laugh when he remains silent.

“No, that’s not work. Just a little fun, an escape, y’know? Forget about everything going on up above ground for a while.” He nods, certainly being able to understand the desire to forget the world, even for a few hours. They stand in silence, a hiccup of time, just looking at each other, which she breaks with a sigh.

“Well, I better get back to work. But, are we good?”

“Think that’s for you to decide, ma’am.” The laugh that coaxes out of her is different, fuller, as she tosses her head back, eyes crinkling up when she does look at him again.

“Hmm, yeah, I’d say we’re good. See you around, Joel.” With that, she turns on her heel, heading back out to the horsepen. But Joel still has another question for her.

“Wait– that’s not your real name, is it? Cherry?” She grins over her shoulder at him, shrugging a little.

“Why don’t you come see another show sometime? Maybe I’ll answer your question then.”

…

He recognizes the music immediately. Nina Simone, something his mother liked to spin on the old record player in the living room, snapping and popping with the drawl of the needle. But his mother is the last thing he’d like to think about right now.

He went alone this time, ducking down the stairs and sitting on a stool at the bar, using a glass of whiskey in his hand as an anchor as his eyes scanned the murky room. He feels his heart sink when he doesn’t see her up on the stage, nor in the crowd, but his disappointment fades when someone taps him on the shoulder, making him turn around in his seat.

“Hey, you came.” She’s in those same damn, mile-high shoes, that same little black set. But Joel has resolved himself this time to be a gentleman, and as such he keeps his eyes upward, as best he can.

“I was looking for you– wasn’t sure if I came on the wrong night.” Her smile is tinged red by the lights of the bar, eyes glimmering in the haze.

“Well, you actually just missed my set.” He feels his shoulders slump at that, only a little embarrassed by his clear display of discontent and the way that she catches it with a laugh.

“But, if you’d like, I could show you what you missed.” He doesn’t think he heard her right, his head ducking a bit, eyes squinting at her easy grin. She brings a hand to his bicep, fingers trailing down until they’re tangling with his and she starts walking backwards. It’s all Joel can do to shuffle along to her gentle tug, his brain short-circuiting all over again.

She pulls him through the backdoor, and then through the same door he had so witlessly stepped through the last time. He actually gets a good look at the room this time, what appears to be a makeshift dressing room, a few mirrors propped against one wall, clothes slung on a coat rack, and a ratty couch pushed into the corner. She drags him inside, Joel all but stumbling over his feet as she gives him a light shove down onto the couch, taking a few steps back and resting her hands on her hips. The music is only a faint throb through the walls now, quiet enough that he can hear his heartbeat kicking and quickening, blood rushing.

Her hips already have a little sway in them, the ghost of a smile as she keeps her eyes on him, and Joel muses to himself that whatever this is, it’s all going to be on her terms, always.

“Since I don’t have the pole, I’ll have to improvise a little bit, that ok with you?” Worried that his voice would betray him, he just nods, the sound of her laugh relaxing his shoulders from where they had been pinned up by his ears.

“Besides, I don't think those men out there really care about the moves, so long as my ass and tits are out. But I’m an artist, y’know? I care.” As if to emphasize her point, she steps one foot out, arcing her hips in a circle, and arching her back, her ass on perfect display as she grins over her shoulder at him. All Joel can think is that this must be a dream, that there’s no way this is actually happening. But seeing her dance up close, there’s no denying how real she is. He can see the sheen of sweat across her sternum, the little pull of her brows as she moves, the curved crease where her ass meets her thigh, and it all only makes him want her more.

“Hmm, I have to admit, I prefer dancing with a prop. Do you mind?” Though he’s not entirely sure what he’s not minding, Joel shakes his head no. He reckons that he wouldn’t even mind if she asked to stab him in the thigh, not at this point. She’s got that smile again, like she knows a secret she’s never going to tell him, as she saunters toward him, one knee and then the other coming to rest against the outsides of his thighs. The last sane part of his mind tells him that he still needs to be a gentleman, so he keeps his hands balled in fists on the couch cushions. He can see the intricacy of the thin lace detailing over her bra, her chest is so close to his face as she rests her forearms over his shoulders. He clears his throat, trying to focus on her face instead of her hips dipping and hovering over him.

“Did you, uh– did you do this for work before?”

“Mmhmm, made good money too. Was putting myself through college with it and everything.” She giggles at the raise of his eyebrows, tilting her head at him as she continues to sway in his lap.

“What? Does that surprise you?”

“Maybe a little, though to be honest, I’m starting to get used to you surprising me.”

“You can touch me, y’know.” He freezes at that, any ease he had slipping away under the prickling heat of her gaze.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.” He can tell that she finds his response amusing, her smile slanting and eyes squinting at him.

“And why not?”

“I’d rather not get another hairbrush thrown at me.” He tries not to, he really does, but he can’t help the way his eyes dart down to the swell of her breasts lightly bouncing with her laugh. It’s a quick little thing, the kiss she presses to the cut above his eyebrow, but it’s enough to melt his resolve down into a dripping puddle.

“I promise I won’t throw anything else at you. But why do I get the feeling that’s not the only reason you’re hesitating?” He lets out a sigh, and she stills on top of him.

“Oh god– did I completely read this wrong? I’m so–”

“N-no! That ain’t it. It’s just– I barely know you and I– you gotta know that I don’t usually do stuff like this.” “Stuff like what?”

“Like whatever you’ve got planned in that pretty head of yours.” She huffs out a laugh at that.

“Why don’t I tell you my real name? Then you’ll know me a little better than barely.” She leans in, lips grazing his ear, her name coming out on a whisper that Joel thinks will spin in his mind for the rest of his life. At the same time, her hands slip down his arms, uncurling his fists and guiding his palms to splay over her hips. Joel takes it from there, hands dragging down over the tops of her thighs before roaming up the span of her back.

“There, was that so hard?” Her smug look makes him grumble, hands dipping down to cup her ass and give an experimental squeeze that makes her gasp.

“Got another question for you, darlin.” She crooks a brow at him, waiting.

“Why me, huh? Could have any one of those guys out there. And I didn’t exactly make a good first impression.” Her smile screws up, eyes narrowing like she’s really considering what he said.

“Because you look like someone who’d like to forget for a while, same as me. And I like it when you call me ma’am.”

Things go downhill fast from there. It’s been a long time since Joel has kissed a woman, but he’s quick on the uptake, his lips molding with hers, tongues twisting up between little sighs and the clicks of spit. His hands firm up on her hips, pulling her down to grind against his aching hardness, reveling in the whimper that breaks in her throat when he does.

He just needed a little certainty from her, and now that he has it, he moves with confidence beneath her, dragging his lips down her chest, mouthing at the fabric of her bra, pulling away only briefly when she shrugs the garment off before dipping back down to take one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. She says his name like a plea, breathless and pitchy and he’d like to replay the sound on an infinite loop in his mind.

“No teasing– not this time. One of the girls could– fuck– could come in any minute.” His heart flips in his chest when she says this time, the promise of this happening again making him lightheaded as she fumbles with his belt buckle. He rests his forehead on her sternum, batting her hands away to finish the job of unbuttoning his jeans and shucking them down with his boxers, just enough for his cock to bounce out, pre-cum smearing over the bottom of his shirt. She works with deft hands, reaching between them to thumb over his leaking slit, rubbing the slickness down his shaft as he hisses at her delicate touch while at the same time, she’s pulling her panties to the side and moving to hover over his throbbing tip.

His eyes roll back when she slides down on him in one languid move, his fingers gripping harshly into the plush of her ass. It’s almost too much, the fluttering heat of her wrapping him up as she sighs on top of him, lips dragging across his in a broken kiss. And then she starts to move, and Joel thinks this might just be how he dies. It starts with a few tentative swirls, just like the ones he saw her do up on that stage the first time, but that quickly morphs into sweet little bounces that he guides with his hands cupping her ass.

Neither of them speak, only letting out little gasps of pleasure, her uh uh uhs driving him crazy with each bounce. He firms his feet up on the ground, starting to meet her hips with his own thrusts, her back arching at the sensation and a silent cry stretching across her lips. More than anything, he wants to feel her come and he sets his mind on it singularly, bringing one of his hands around to draw sloppy circles over her clit, groaning at the way she spasms around him in response. He brings his other hand up to hold her by the back of the neck, pulling her closer until he can smear his lips across her ear in a hot whisper, low murmurings of how bad he wants it, how good she feels, how he’s dying to see her come for him.

And she does, with a harsh yelp of his name, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades through the fabric of his t-shirt. She slumps in his grip, and it takes all of Joel’s willpower to pull her off of him, finishing himself off with a few frantic strokes of his hand before his spend is smudging across her tensing belly.

They hold onto each other hard, trying to find stillness after their heady spin of pleasure. Beneath their breathless pants, the dull thrum of music still seeps into the walls from the bar, a reminder of what actually just happened, and how fucked he truly is now that he’s gotten a taste of her.

........................

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped): @littlelou22 @mydailyhyperfixations @harriedandharassed @amanitacowboy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beskarandblasters @ariiiloves @swiftispunk @cutesyscreenname @brittmb115 @funnygirlthatgab

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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pawnshopbleus · 8 months ago

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Miller's Girl

Chapter Three - The Meeting

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - after i dont know how long and several fights and bomb and shooting threats at my school, i'm back. I wrote this at 12 am so I hope you can understand it.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

The Miller residence was a cozy two story home in the suburbs of Austin. The exposed brick fireplace climbed up the side of the black and white home. The green grass was a little too long for the pristine way Professor Miller held himself.

You walked along the concrete walkway to the front door. You wiped your sweaty hands on your black pants and knocked on the door. You hoped that Professor Miller wouldn’t notice the circles under your eyes or the fact that you wore these exact pants to class two days ago.

When the door opened you didn’t see Professor Miller towering over you. You didn’t see anything until you looked down a little bit. Standing there in all her might was a little girl no older than thirteen.

“Sarah! What did I tell you about opening the door without asking who it is?” you heard Professor Millers stern voice yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Sorry Dad but I think the babysitter is here!” Sarah yelled back.

Sarah looked at you and shrugged her shoulders before skipping away. You stood still, not wanting to enter the home uninvited. The door was left wide open and you could feel the cold air wafting out of the home. The pay as a professor must be stacked to keep the AC running in the middle of October.

“What are you just standing there for? Come in,” Sarah says with a hand on her hip.

“Did your dad say it was okay?” you ask, not wanting to make your professor and future boss angry.

“Yes, I did.” Professor Miller says from the stairs.

He’s wearing something much more casual than what you are used to seeing him in. The blue jeans and white shirt that are sticking to his body make him look like he does something physical for work. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that he was some sort of contractor.

“Professor I-” “When you’re here it's Joel. Just Joel.”

You nod your head and look at your shoes. Your beat-up Converse aren't exactly appropriate for a meeting with your future employer, but it was these or the flip flops that squeak every time you walk.

“Go ahead and sit on the couch. Sarah, go to your room.”

Sarah stomps up the stairs and into her bedroom. Joel walks over to the accent chair across from the couch and sits down. He huffs as his body hits the soft velvet of the furniture. He leans back and spreads his legs, almost as if he were making room for someone to sit on his lap.

Your eyes roam from his lap to his grey eyes that are staring back at you. You’ve just been caught eyeing your professor like a slut. Whether he minded or not didn’t come up as he gets straight to the point.

“Look, you are the most qualified person for this job. Your resume and experience are great and you seem like a nice girl, but I don’t know if I can trust you with my daughter.”

“Look, Joel, I know that my being late to your class could have affected your perception of me, but I think I would be great with your daughter. She was wearing a Madden Boys shirt when I walked in, right? Well, I saw the Madden Boys in concert just last year! I think having a cool babysitter would do her some good.”

“Did you just call yourself ‘cool’?” Joel asks.

You open your mouth to say something and then close it as nothing comes out.

“How about I give you a trial week? You’ll get paid a flat rate and if Sarah likes you then you can stay.”

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Joel.”

Your peppy attitude threw Joel off. When you first arrived at his home, you were cautious and timid but now you were smiley. He has never seen someone with such a bright smile. All thirty-two teeth were on display as you shook his hand and thanked him once again for this opportunity.

Your hands were also unbelievably soft compared to his calloused hands. The same hands that cramp when they hold a pen for longer than fifteen minutes.

You leave his home after that, your mysterious scent lingers in the spot where you once sat. Joel jogs up the stairs and almost trips on his daughter who is sitting on the top step.

“I like her,” Sarah mumbles, her voice barely audible as her face rests on her knee.

“Well, we’ll see about that kid,” Joel says as he walks to his office and closes the door behind him.

As much as Joel wants to not like you. As much as Joel wants to blame you for being late to his class, he can’t. He could tell how sincere you were when you apologized to him. Your soft eyes begged for his forgiveness while he tried his best to not look into them. It was like a siren's call, slowly luring him into a trap that he didn’t want to be in again. He loved one woman and she left him alone with a baby and no money.

The optional homework he assigned burned a hole in his desk. The key word was ‘optional’ and still almost all of his students did it. As much as he loved it when his students took advantage of every opportunity they got, he hated that he had to grade the work.

After almost a hundred essays on why Victorian architecture is important, Sarah knocked on his door. She opened the door and placed a basket of cookies on his desk. The basket looked like Easter came very late. There was plastic wrap covering every inch and crevice of the pink and white basket. Pink and blue bows stuck to the top and bottom of the basket. Inside the basket held what looked like two dozen cookies.

“The babysitter came by and dropped these off. She said that there's a note in there but only you can read it.”

Joel peered around the basket for a sign of the note but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Can you hurry up and open it? I really want a cookie.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her weight on one hip.

“Sarah Miller, are you rushing me?” Sarah nodded her head. Joel shook his with a smile on his face. He loved that his daughter felt like she could be sassy with him. This type of banter made him feel like he was a good father.

Unwrapping the basket was Joel's idea of hell. The texture of the wrap felt weird under Joel's hands and the bows and glitter fell to the floor, making a mess. A pink bow fell into his black coffee which made him groan. He would have to make another.

Sarah snatched two cookies and skipped her way to her room. Coincidentally, those two cookies were hiding the note that he was looking for. The small white square of construction paper housed five words. In loopy writing, it said ‘I hope you like cookies.’ It was so simple yet it made Joel close his eyes and rest his head on the back of his chair.

#joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fic #tlou

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙𝟘 : Baby Honey NSFW 🔞

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: One order up of the Joel Miller pussy eating special! 🤠

~word count: 4.1k~

Summary: the slow burn between you and horse dad! Joel has come to an end. He shows you just what he meant when he said he wanted to worship your body.

Warnings: fluff, flirting, teasing, smut, oral (female receiving) fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, praise kink, consent (Joel talks you through it) nickname overload, sexual tension, dirty internal thoughts, vulgar language, filthy talk, begging, Joel gets pussy drunk and loves it, he acts like such a sweetheart, a little smug, he’s got some serious rizz, (+18) minors dni!

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

Joel had been a complete sweetheart for the rest of the evening after he drove you home from the bar. He didn’t even allow your feet to touch the ground when he pulled up to your apartment complex. He insisted on carrying you from his truck to your apartment door. You were in a fit of drunk giggles with your cheek smushed up against his warm chest. His t-shirt smelled of lavender vanilla detergent and cologne. He smelled so good. “Are ya really goin’ and smellin’ my shirt right now darlin?’ You lil’ drunk weirdo.” His tone was light, airy, and mildly raspy.

“Shh. Don’t you dare go make fun of me right now, Joel. You smell so good..what is that cologne you’re wearing? Smells heavenly..” You took one big ole whiff which caused Joel to chuckle as he quietly unlocked your apartment door and used his hip to push it open.

“Dunno what brand it is actually. Tommy got it for me awhile back. I’ll have to let him know that you’re a huge fan of it, sweetness.”

“I love when you call me cute things. You have so many different names for me, babe. How do you keep track of them all?” Joel had gently sank down onto the couch with his arms still firmly wrapped around you.

“Yeah? Well..I love calling you cute things. I do have a lot of ‘em huh? You wanna order some food now or after we get ya into some comfy clothes?”

Your arms had slid up around his neck, fingers lazily playing with the strands of hair along the nape of his neck as you peppered sweet kisses across his jawline. “Hmmm..let's order food now. I am absolutely starved.”

Joel couldn’t contain his little grin as you peppered kisses along his face. His dimples were even peeking through as the pad of his thumb was rubbing slow, gentle circles against your spine. He couldn’t help but turn his head a little, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “Alright, my sweet girl. Lets get some food in ya.”

For the rest of the evening, you and Joel were curled up on the couch with a box of pizza, and garlic knots on the coffee table while you watched a few episodes of Friends. At some point, you had fallen asleep with your head resting in his lap over a fluffy blanket. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this content with someone. The domestic intimacy was so pure, so soft and he loved every second of it.

The following morning you were rudely awoken by your alarm clock blaring along your nightstand. Before you could even think about getting out of bed, a strong arm reached over your middle and firmly pressed down on the alarm clock, ceasing its annoying blaring. Joel grumbled something incoherent against your ear as he firmly tugged your warm body back against his chest, nuzzling his nose against your neck as he inhaled deeply.

“Joel..” You whispered, voice laced with sleep. Your eyes weren’t even open yet. “I have to get up honey.”

“Mmm. No you don’t. Stay in bed a little longer here with me..you’re so warm..” He hummed, pressing a languid kiss to the spot below your ear.

Your body instantly melted against his broad chest as you let out a content sigh. “Okay, fine. You win this round. Can you hand me my phone please?”

You could feel a smirk spreading across Joel’s lips as he kissed along your skin. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t wanna spend all mornin’ in bed with me.” He warmly chuckled before he blindly reached for your phone on the nightstand.

“Of course I wanna spend all morning in bed with you..I just need to see if Ryder can go feed the horses for me in the meantime.” You grabbed your phone from his grasp before finding Ryder’s contact and pressed the receiver against your ear.

“Gooood morning sunshine! How are you feeling babydoll?” Ryder’s voice singsonged through the line. She sounded awfully enthusiastic for it being so early in the morning.

“Hey, babe? Would you do me a huge favor? Can you head over to the barn and bring the boys in and get them fed? I’m gonna be a little late this morning..Did you have a fun evening with Tommy?”

You could feel Ryder smirking through the receiver and she was currently in bed with Tommy who was listening in on the conversation of course. He was eager to hear if his big brother had finally gotten lucky.

“Long night, huh? Is Joel with you right now? Of course I can bring them in and get them fed. Do you mind if Tommy comes with me? He spent the night..” You could picture her little smile through the phone when she mentioned Tommy being there with you.

“Don’t you go and get any funny ideas now, Ryder.” You couldn’t help but giggle. “Yeah, Joel is here with me right now. He spent the night too..” You felt him gently squeeze your hip bone as he continued to pepper kisses along your neck. “Sounds like you had a fun night babe. I can’t wait to hear all about it. Tell Tommy I say hello! Kisses.” You ended the call and carelessly tossed your phone along your nightstand before you turned your head over your shoulder and finally met his lips in a searing kiss.

Joel had eagerly kissed you back as his warm hands found purchase around your hips, brushing his thumbs at the soft skin below your navel as the hem of his shirt that you were wearing was resting just above where his hands were firmly holding you.

“Joel..” You mumbled against his lips, dragging your fingertips along his jawline, catching his stubble along the soft pads of your fingers.

“Hmm?” He gave your hips a light squeeze as his nose nudged against yours. “C’mere. Come closer baby.” He rasped against your lips

You wasted no time to turn yourself around in his arms so that you were facing him. The kiss you shared was broken away for just a mere moment before your lips were pressed to his once more. You hiked your thigh over his hip as your hands were gently holding his face. “Joel..” you whispered.

“Yeah baby? What’s up darlin?’” His words were muffled by your lips as his hand dropped down, fingertips brushing over the exposed skin along your thigh. He gave it a firm squeeze, sinking the pads of his fingertips into the plush flesh.

“We’re finally alone..with no interruptions.” There was a certain giddiness to your tone when the realization washed over the both of you and time seemed to stop.

“I don’t..I don’t have anythin’ on me darlin'’” he slowly detached his lips from the kiss, using his free hand to cup your cheek gently in his warm palm as he dragged the pad of his thumb across your plush lower lip. He watched with hooded eyes as you nibbled playfully on the tip of his thumb, eyes locked on his.

“I don’t either..it’s been awhile for me as you know. There’s other things we can do, baby.”

Joel took his own lip between his teeth when you had lightly sucked on the tip of his thumbnail, eyes looking at him with a doe like innocence that had blood flowing straight down to his cock. “You can’t be lookin’ at me like that darlin’ and sayin’ things..fuck.” He rasped.

“Looking at you, how?” You had a tiny smirk playing across your pretty lips as your lashes fluttered and he had images of you down on your knees in front of him flash across his mind. Mouth full of his cock, spit dribbling down your chin—

“Can I taste you?” He knew his request was bold. Perhaps even a little brash for his own taste but he could only imagine how sweet your cunt had to be. He hadn’t had a desire to be this intimate with someone in so long. It felt like foreign territory, but all the more exciting. He wanted to show you just how badly he wanted to please you. He promised you nearly a month ago that he wanted to worship your body in more ways than one. He wasn’t a man to go back on his promises either, he always followed through.

Your breath hitched harshly in your throat at his request. How was this man so fucking sweet, yet so filthy at the same time. A mixture between heaven and hell. On the fleeting cusp of driving you absolutely mad. Would he tease you? Would he have you begging him for more? God his tongue—

“Yes. Please.” You nearly mewled.

“Get on your back for me sweetheart. Wanna make sure you’re nice and comfy, Kay?” He pressed a light playful kiss to the tip of your nose, loving the way your face when cutely scrunch up.

The early morning calm began to grow thick with tension. The chemistry between you and Joel was radiating through the expanse of your room, bouncing off the wall like ping pong balls. You could hear his heart racing in his rib cage, feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach as you eased yourself away from his grasp on you, rolling over onto your back.

Joel was leaning over you now, fluffing the pillows behind your head with ease. You couldn’t help but giggle when he had gently stuffed a pillow under your lower back so you had more support.

“What’so funny?” He was looking down at you with a boyish grin as he settled himself between your thighs.

“Nothing, baby. You’re just..you’re really sweet and careful..and attentive to me.” You reached your hand up, gently cupping his cheek as he leaned down over you.

“Remember how I told ya after our first date that I was gonna worship you, and your body in more ways than one? This is just part one..I’m gonna take real good care of you, okay? The way that you deserve..” His nose lightly brushed against yours as he closed the small gap between you once more. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. It was slow, languid and filled with emotions only the two of you shared.

“I remember. Let’s speed things up then, cowboy.” You giggled against his lips kissing him back sweetly.

“Slow down there, cowgirl. I’m gonna take my time with ya. You’re gonna love it, trust me.” You felt his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt along your body. “Can I take this off? Or do you wanna keep it on?” He mumbled against your lips.

“Take it off.”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.” He could feel your eagerness as you were already lifting your arms above your head. Inch by inch, he slowly began to lift his shirt over your head. He begrudgingly detached his lips from yours to get the shirt over your head but once he rid you of the fabric, he was gazing down at you. His eyes flitted down to the way your nipples hardened from the cool morning air. You couldn’t help but playfully give his cheek a light slap when he was shamelessly checking you out.

“Hey, eyes up here buddy!”

Joel warmly chuckled as one of his hands found purchase just under your right breast. His thumb was gently stroking across the plush skin as he gave you another boyish grin. “Sorry, honey. Can’t help myself. You’re beautiful, and these? These are very nice.” His thumb brushed across your hardened nipple as your back arched up against him from the light touch.

Your skin felt ignited under his touch as if he had set a match off deep inside of you that left your body craving for more. You were certain that no other man had ever had this intoxicating effect on you. Goddamn you, Joel Miller. “Baby, please don’t tease me..please..I need more than that.”

“What’s that honey pie? You want me to tease ya some more? Patience, my sweet girl. It’ll be worth it in the end. I promise.” His tone was low, husky, and it sent a warm shiver down your spine. Your lips parted open as his own began to make their descent along your neck. His lips were gentle, yet practiced as he kissed along your skin. Your fingers already found their way through his soft tendrils of curls as you gently grasped the back of his head.

He crooned when he heard you suck in a harsh breath as his lips found their way to the valley between your breasts. He licked a long, hot stripe down your sternum before you felt the bridge of his nose drag across the swell of your breast. He nipped playfully at the soft flesh, listening to your soft giggle that quickly developed into a whimper when his lips wrapped around the hardened nub, swirling his tongue along the raised skin.

“Jooooeelll.” You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your throat as your lashes fluttered shut. Your thighs clenched together and there was no doubt that you were already absolutely dripping for this man.

“Mmm. What did I just say?” He tsked playfully against your skin. Patience, my sweet girl. Enjoy each moment.” He had a mouthful of your breast in his mouth and he still managed to say the sweetest things.

“I’m trying my best.” You let out a frustrated huff as your nails lightly scraped along his scalp. “You’re making it increasingly more difficult for me, baby.”

“Sounds like a personal problem darlin.’” His warm chuckle sent vibrations deep into your core. Just as you were about to smartass him, he shushed you by showing the same amount of care and attention to your other breast. Except this time, his teeth lightly scraped along the nub, causing a low hiss to elicit past your parted lips.

The anticipation was absolutely eating you alive as his lips, and sinful tongue began to descend over your navel as his hands grasped the underside of your thighs. “Need ya to look at me sweetheart. Wanna see those pretty eyes, sugar.” He playfully nipped at the inside of your thigh, soothing the bite of his teeth along your skin with a soft kiss.

Your lashes fluttered open as you looked down at him. This was by far the hottest sight you had ever laid your eyes on. Joel nestled between your thighs, smirking playing on his lips and his beard lightly scraping along your skin as he looked up at you. “Enjoyin’ the view?” He nipped playfully at the inside of your thigh once more.

Smug bastard.

“Mhm. It’s quite the view.”

“It’s about to get even better for ya babydoll.” He shot you a playful wink as he brought your calves to rest along his broad shoulders. “Hook your ankles behind my head.” You did as you were told, taking your lip between your teeth and biting down on it hard. “Atta girl.”

You were ready to tell him to stop playing games. That if he kept this up, you’d surely pass out from the sexual frustration. All of those thoughts came to a delicious halt when the tip of his broad, beautiful nose brushed firmly against your clothed clit.

Your hips jolted towards his face from the sensation as an ‘oh fuck’ flowed past your parted lips shamelessly.

Joel kept his eyes locked on yours as he flattened his tongue along your clothed center, tasting you through the thin cotton fabric with a low hum vibrating up his throat. “How long’s it been for ya honey?”

“T–Too damn long.” You whispered.

Joel pressed a chaste kiss to your covered clit. “Yeah? Well, we’re gonna have to fuckin’ change that pretty damn quick baby. Personally, I think you should be gettin’ 3-4 orgasms a day..why stop there? Let's shoot for them stars, sweet thing.”

Okay, it was official. Joel Miller had officially rotted your brain from the inside out, and turned it to complete mush. He knew exactly what he was doing when he left you feeling tongue tied. “Gonna take these off of ya now, okay?”

All you could do was meekly nod as his thumbs hooked around the sides of your panties and painstakingly peeled them down your thighs and past your ankles that were locked behind his head. He tossed the thin fabric off to the side before he got a good look at you. “Shit. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful baby. Drippin’ for me? Fuck.” The filth dripped down his tongue, sugar sweet, sticky like fresh honey. “G’nna have a taste now, okay?”

Your soft sheets were clenched tightly between your fists as you let out a frustrated whine. “Joel, I swear to fucking god, I will crush your stupid handsome head with my thighs if you don’t–” you were cut off when his tongue flattened against your folds, licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your slit as his lashes fluttered shut. He used his forefinger and middle finger to spread your folds open as he dragged his tongue up to your clit, slowly flicking the tip of his tongue across your sensitive bundle of nerves. Back and forth, back and forth. “Sweetest fuckin’ thing i’ve ever tasted. Fuckin’ un-believable.” He mumbled against your cunt. “Could eat this sweet fuckin’ pussy any goddamn day of the week. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.”

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as your thighs clenched inwards. This man knew exactly what he was doing and it would only be a short matter of time before he would be coaxing your first of many orgasms with him. “Fuck–fuck. Baby, that feels so good.” You moaned, fisting the sheets tighter in your grasp.

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as his tongue swirled around the bud. He was already feeling high off your natural taste. He wasn’t shy when it came to eating pussy. He had years of experience but with you, it felt the most intimate. Like all he wanted to accomplish was giving you as many mind numbing orgasms that he could draw out of you. He loved the way you melted like putty along his skillful tongue. Your sweet moans for him drove him further into a blissful state of mind of pleasing you.

You could already feel the cord twisting tightly in your stomach as he continued to ruin you with his mouth and tongue. He looked so handsome, mouthful of your pussy, hair falling over his face as he drove his tongue deep inside of you, wanting to taste every part of you that his tongue could reach. When he started fucking you with his tongue, mumbling filth about how sweet you tasted, that you were being such a good girl for him, the cord snapped as you cried out his name.

He eagerly lapped up your release along his tongue. He gathered up every last drop that you had to offer him as he left gentle kitten licks along your clit. Little did you know, he wasn’t done with you just yet. He watched you with hooded eyes as he rested his cheek along the inside of your thigh. His lips, chin, and beard were glistening with your slickness as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your trembling skin. “How was that for some pussy eatin?’” He teasingly asked you.

“Just about snatched my goddamn soul from my body, cowboy.” You let out a breathless laugh as you looked down at him with a post orgasm haze coating your features. You released your death grip on the sheets, bringing your hand to gingerly cup his jaw as your thumb brushed across his pouted lower lip, tugging it down gently. “I don’t like that look your giving me baby..what’s cooking in that brain of yours?”

Joel hummed as he leaned into your affectionate touch, his eyes flitting up to yours and they had that certain sparkle in them that you loved so much. “Mmm. Did ya think I was done with ya that quick? Absolutely not.” He chuckled, nibbling gently on the tip of your thumbnail. “I’m just such a gentleman that I'm gonna give ya a quick breather.”

“You weren’t kidding about that 3-4 orgasm thing huh? Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me Miller.” You let out an exasperated sigh as you threw your head back against the plush pillows when you felt his hot breath fanning across your core once more.

“Nuh uh. I ain’t one to kid about that kinda stuff baby. I’m a man of my word.” His huskily spoke before his mouth was enveloping you once more. While his tongue worked your clit to ruin, he had lightly begun to tease your slick entrance with his forefinger. As his tongue lapped at you, he slowly eased his finger inside of your sopping cunt, knuckle deep as he curled it inwards. He could feel your walls fluttering around his finger already, and the feeling had his mind reeling to think about what it would feel like with his cock deep inside your warmth.

Like Heaven.

“Fuckin’ tight little pussy, huh? Clenchin’ around my finger already. You want another, sweet girl?” His tongue was working you at a speed that you struggled to keep up with as he completely overwhelmed your senses. You mewled out his name, bucking your hips up against his face, desperate more. “Yes, please baby. Give me more, Joel. Please.” Your words fell through staggered breaths as he slowly inserted a second finger, curling them up against the sweet spot that had you seeing stars. He slowly began to pump his fingers in and out of you, developing a smooth rhythm that was in sync with his tongue. A delicious combination that had you shamelessly riding his face.

“Good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Look at how filthy you’re gettin’ fo’me.” He mumbled against your cunt, pumping his fingers faster. He could feel himself getting drunk off your taste along his tongue. Your breathless whines, the way your thighs trembled, and quivered around his head. He was drunk off every goddamn moment he was spending with you. Pussy drunk where he was at the point of no return.

“Oh–oh fuck! Jooooeeelll!” You were on the brink of sobbing as your second orgasm rolled through you like a tidal wave. Joel didn’t give you a moment to breathe this time. He continued to work you right on through it as you clenched tightly around his fingers.

“C’mon, darlin.’ You got one more for me? I know ya do. C’mon, pretty girl. Gimme one more. One fuckin’ more.”

You shook your head back and forth vigorously, bringing your freehand to your mouth, biting down on the outside of your hand, tears threateningly to spill over as you were teetering over the edge of overstimulation. “Joel–I–can’t! It’s too much! Baby, please I can’t! Joel, I can’t!” You desperately pleaded with him.

“Yes you can honey. Yes you can. I got you, sweet girl. You’re okay. You’re safe. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you, my baby honey.” He reached his free hand up and found your hand that was still fisting the sheets, he gently pried your fingers apart, slipping his between yours as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “One more for me. One more baby.” His lips wrapped around your clit once more, sucking harshly as he drew one last final orgasm from you.

Your ears were ringing, blood rushing as everything in close proximity sounded hazy, fuzzy to you as your body convulsed around Joel’s tongue and fingers. You were almost certain that you had passed out for a moment. Your body was struggling to handle the immense waves of pleasure like none other than you had experienced before. Your mind felt blissfully numb, as if you were on a big fluffy cloud, drifting through the sky with a warm breeze kissing your cheeks.

Your ex had absolute jack fucking shit on your cowboy.

Joel had praised you through the entire thing, lapping up your final release like a man starved. He pressed one last gentle kiss to your swollen clit before he kissed his way back up to your lips, pecking them a few times as his hands gently held your face. “Come back to earth, my sweet girl. I gotcha.”

Your limp arms found their way around his neck, kissing him back languidly as you tasted yourself along his tongue. “You sure know how to make a girl scream, cowboy.” Your tone was sticky sweet, tainted with post orgasm haze.

“I like to call that one the Joel Miller pussy eating special.” He chuckled, kissing you deeply.

“Shut the fuck up.” You giggled.

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @soft-cryptids @dinsdjrn @lovers-liability @777-wonders @mirasantidotes @pedgeitopascal @loquaciousferret @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @bonglorddaryl @sarahhxx03 @myrealmofchaos @finnsbubblegum @danilakozlovsky @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ssa-raye @pedropascalfan221 @missgurrl @leeeesahhh @yazsos @casa-boiardi @last-girl @frankthesexualsadist @shatteredbaby @rye-flower @elliewilliamsno1simp @wonder-harley @userpedros @pedrospartner @morning-star-joy @ilovepedro @ranahx @tinygarbage

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daddyhausen · 5 months ago

Text

「 COMMISSION FOR : @kashmirclam 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡「 JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY 」｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 WWE MASTERLIST 」 | 「 DOMINIK MYSTERIO MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 SUMMARY 」 — dom is a little jealous that you’re spending all your time around a certain blond haired narcissist

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+ [ MINORS DNI ] smut, dom!dominik, sub!reader, brat!reader, brat taming, hair pulling, spanking, degradation, jealous sex, rough sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, male + female orgasms, multiple orgasm, squirting, internal cumshot, vaginal creampie

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 2.9k

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x dominik mysterio

「 GENRE 」 — smut

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @wardlow @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @auburnwriter @alyyaanna @nightmare-viper @nev-danielgarciawife

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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dominik’s heavy footsteps trudged through the backstage area, echoing with the unbridled jealousy that raged within him, as if his furrowed brow and tightly pursed lips weren’t a definitive indication. he was never one to shy away from displaying his jealousy, especially when it came to you. he’d seem it just before his match, you engaged in a particularly flirty conversation with one narcissist logan paul, who’d taken quite a fancy towards you himself, despite your relationship status. now you were not stupid, a little naive at times but certainly not stupid. flirting back seemed like a natural playful response despite his more devious intentions to bed you himself. despite the constant avoidance of eye contact the more persistent his flirtation became.

dominik’s eyes held heavy with jealousy, annoyance moreso. the browns of his irises seem to hold more crimson in rage over anything. a small huff of a breath prominent against his lips, his chest tightening with proactive rage, threatening to spill as the blond’s fingertips lightly grazed your forearm with devious intent. dom’s throat ran dry, even in an attempt to wet his lips only left him feeling parched, the anger within him never subsiding. his gaze tunnelled at you and the blond, everything else but faded black in his eyes as he made a beeline towards the two of you.

his movements were subtle, he did not want to start a fight in catering despite his more protective instincts desiring otherwise. he remained outwardly patient, lips folded into a tight scowl, back pressed against the wall, listening in on your conversation.

he watched the way your lashes fluttered softly each time you blinked, the soft creases of your eyes crinkled each time you smiled. the sweet giggles left your lips, flowed off your tongue like angelic hymns. to dominik, he knew logan was not competition when it comes to your relationship, but something about the way he was able to make you laugh so easily, it irked dom. he’s the only one who’s supposed to make you beam like that, the only one who has the damn privilege of making you smile! hell, he knows he’s the only one who's ever made you beg, fall to your knees in a fit of pleas and whines, practically grasping at his thighs in a desperate attempt to please him. he’s the only one who can stuff your mouth so full of his cock that it leaves bruising in the back of your throat, a sight he most definitely enjoyed.

dominik kept his gaze fixed on logan now, the prick's eyes staring down at you with a subtle yet lustful intent, and you were none the wiser of his intentions. poor, naive girl. he watched the way logan’s hands swiped away a stray, curled lock of your hair, one that resides by your neck, his fingers dangerously close to your breast, but subtle enough not to cause a stir. dom’s eyes darkened, the rage burned with him. fuck subtly, he once again made heavy trudges towards, the two of you, completely bypassing logan, his hand wrapping around your wrist, practically dragging you behind him.

his steps were wide, determined. you were pretty much hobbling twice your normal speed behind him.

“dom! what the fuck?-”, your retort was loud and intentional. in which you hoped others would gain notice of your boyfriend’s unprecedented behaviour.

still, dominik remained silent. moreso in order to hold his tongue from exploding. the tightness of his drip increased on your wrist, the eventual arrival in the parking lot only prompted him with a two word response.

“get in.”, his hand wrapped around the door handle of the passenger side of your rental car. his knuckles bleached with anger. you stared at him for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded at your boyfriend’s highly irrational behaviour.

“now!”.

the subtle widening of your eyes went unknown to him as you stepped into the car, a soft scowl forming across the curve of your lips, more so of a pout than the former. the slam of the car door left a dull ringing in your ears for less then a second, the recoil shaking the car slightly. dominik entered the car beside you, hands gripped on the steering wheel with a tightness that could rival even the strongest of men. the skin around his knuckles were already void of colour, somehow the appeared more pallor the tighter he held it. somehow, you could not shake the thought of said hand around your throat, grasping tightly, enough to constrict your airways but light enough to leave you in such a wondrous dizzy haze.

the car ride was met with silence. a painful one that was undertoned in malice. dom’s gaze was fixated on the road, all dark and brooding, the veins in his forearms pulsing with anger.

“you still didn’t answer my question”.

your words fell on deaf ears as dominik continued to stare invisible daggers through the windscreen, as if his gaze was piercing the glass.

“dom, answer me-”.

you slapped his arm lightly in an attempt to rouse him out of his enraged state, to no avail. dom continued his tunnelled glare, not breaking his stare, he didn't even acknowledge your presence even upon arriving at the back at the hotel.

“get out”.

he continued to respond in stern short sentences. his gaze still purposefully avoided yours.

“get the fuck out of the car.!”.

his words were spiteful and bitter, like venom dripping from the tip of his tongue with each syllable.. when you did not budge, barely moved an inside aside from a subtle flinch at the loudness of his voice, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you from the passenger seat, a small sudden yelp left your lips. in any other situation you would have stood your ground, retorted with a flurry of curses and insults. dom’s possessiveness had never held a forefront within your relationship previously and seeing him act out in such a way, as immature as it would seem to some, to you it was rather arousing.

the way his eyebrows were tightly knit with an accompanying scowl, eyes heavy set with rage and jealousy. you were his and his only. the only thing so pure and untouched by others, he was the only one allowed to revel in your flesh, let the taste of you mingle on his tongue. even by the sheer grip around your wrist others could tell you belonged to him, not just in the context of a relationship, but primally, you were meant for him, your entire existence, at least romantically, revolved around him.

as he practically dragged you up the stairwell, your apartment only being an hour or so drive from the arena, speckles of dusk still littered the sky as it slowly blended with nightfall amongst the horizon, the glow gave his skin a more honeyed complexion, the same can be said for his eyes, more amber despite how darkened with rage they seemed.

he was quick as he unlocked the front door, his movements did not falter once, even in his enraged state. if anything his hands held more precision than normal. the soft click of the lock met your ears, dominik shoved you inside, his hand rested on the small of your back, yet he made no attempts in touching you further. instead, he stood still, his body towered over your meek form, arms folded across his chest, as he stared down at you with what could not be described as hatred, more or less, disappointment that you would stoop so low as to converse with the likes of logan.

“tell me what you did wrong”.

it was not a question. more so a demand.

you stared at him, your gaze matched the disappointment his eyes held, albeit more rage held in yours.

“what i did wrong?”, a scoff fell from your lips, an emphasis on “i”. dominik simply nodded, unmoving in other aspects. “talking to someone isn’t a crime-”.

“well i wouldn’t consider what you were doing to be “talking’”,

dominik’s voice lowered an octave, an accusatory tone laced in his words. you narrowed your gaze at him.

“so what?, it's a bit of harmless flirting, that just the way i talk-”.

dominik scoffed. “and how do you think he would have interpreted that, huh?”.

dominik stepped closer to you, his frame pinned you against the wall, his palms flush against the wallpaper, your head entrapped between them.

“you know i don’t like you talking to him”, he cocked his head to the side in some sort of pseudo-playful facade.

“you don’t get to decide who i talk to-”.

“this is different”.

“how?”.

“because he likes you! how are you so blind as to not see that?!”.

in your peripherals you noticed dominik’s fists clenched together, his knuckles matched the paleness of the wallpaper. his jaw set, teeth grinding in frustration.

“oh my god dom, you’re acting paranoid!”.

he shot you a glare that was a mixture between confusion and anger. he let his left hand fall from beside your face to hover just above your shoulder. he still remained silent.

“or maybe, just maybe you're insecure”, you accused. “you're so worried that he could steal me away from you at any moment”

“me? insecure?”, dominik let out a sarcastic chuckle. “and i’m sure as hell, not worried about that prick taking you from me, you wanna know why?’.

dominik took another step towards you, his body pressed flush against yours. hips lips lingered centimetres from your own.

“because i. own. you”, his statement was simple, once that only made you shake your head in response..

“oh, but i do, princess. all those times i’ve made you scream and beg for me, left you dripping my cum”.

he paused for a moment, his top lip brushed against your cupid’s bow.

“your body was made for me to fuck”.

your breath involuntarily shuddered at his statement.

“and he will never know what it is like to fuck you, have you scream his name because that…is only for me’.

his hand rested upon your hips, his thumb swirled languid circles into the flesh, slow yet meticulous as he trailed it up your waist, his fingerprints created small divots in your skin, ones that made your breath quiver on exhale. he took notice, a small smirk crept upon his lips, his tongue lightly flicked across his teeth, canines gently grazed against the fleshy appendage.

“oh? you’ve gone quiet now, huh?”, his breath fanned against your neck, lips moved in featherlight touches as he spoke. “where’s the brat i was talking to before, hmm?”.

you remained silent, defiant before him, you did not give him the satisfaction of a response. but deep down you knew he was right, no other man had made you feel the way dom did. his presence itself was alluring, it drew you in, as if he was the only man on earth in your eyes.

his gaze bored into yours, it left you with a slight sense of unnerve.

“don’t worry princess, before the night is over, i’ll make you scream for me”.

his movements were agile, taking a fist full of your hair, as he tugged at the roots, with all intention of being rough. you gave a small yelp in response, still did not offer him a concise and clear sentence.

“still not talking, huh?”, his words muttered against your neck. “i’ll put that pretty mouth to better use later, but now…”.

he paused, as he inhaled the sweet, flowery scent of your perfume, his breath hitched in his throat as the subtle fragrance of jasmine met his lungs.

“i’m going to fuck your brains out”.

dom was far too impatient in his own right to drag you upstairs to the bedroom, instead, he placed a hand onto your shoulder, he forced you down onto your knees. your initial thought was that he was going to abuse your throat for a while like he’d previously mentioned. rather he simply stood behind you, his foot pressed between your shoulder blades, he left you pinned and prone against the bottom step.

“dom what the hell-?!”, you finally seemed to acknowledge him, in lieu of the fact you’d become so incredibly wet by his dominance.

with a lack of response on his part, the sound of his zipper hastily coming undone was enough to prick your ears up with intrigue. his foot still present on your back, the shuffle of his jeans as he pulled them halfway down his thighs. his fingers still woven in your hair, the other hand fisted his swollen cock. he gave a soft grunt in reaction to his own touch.

“keep still for me”.

his fingers traced against your clothed cunt, your body stiffened against the sudden pressure at your core. he hummed, satisfied that he’s already gotten you so sensitive. he let the digits slip into the waistband of your leggings, his fingertips danced across your clit, as they dipped into and between your soaked folds.

“mmm, so wet… you like me being rough with you?”.

it was a rhetorical question and he knew it. he knew you enjoyed being toyed with , thrown around and preyed upon like a piece of meat. he pulled his fingers from between your folds, eager to fill you up. then again, eager wasn’t exactly the word to describe it, more so impatient. he did not utter another word, instead, he bunched up the fabric in his hand, scrunched between his calloused fingertips, as he ripped a hole directly down the seam, your panties on full display for him.

you gasped at the sensation, cool, midnight air hitting your semi-exposed cunt, the pool of wetness that built on the fabric certainly did not help with the chill. dominik let out a soft hum in satisfaction, his fingers once again weaved their way into your panties, this time not to toy with you, to simply slide them out of the way for easier access. he removed the pressure of his foot from your back, it allowed you some reprieve and slightly better breathing room. He knelt behind you as he stuffed his cock between your folds, instantly feeling the warm, wet stretch of your cunt as he filled you to the brim.

“fuck…look at that, princess. didn’t have to prep you or anything”.

his words held a small lilt and a chuckle at the end of his sentence. his hips were ravenous in their motions, denied the time to adjust to the size of him, simply to mould the shape of his cock within you with each thrust. he wanted to be quick, to prove to you that he did not need time or patience to prove who you belonged to, just the sheer force of his cock would be enough to have you worship the ground he walks on, completely subservient to his needs.

“you know that he would never fuck you this good, baby”.

he mentioned logan again, all without mentioning him by name, as if it was an insult to his tongue for him to utter.

“mmm fuck…”

your whimpers muffled against the polished redwood of the staircase. cheek pressed firmly into it, a small pool of drool gathered around your lips,. making the wood glisten under the dim yellow glow of the hallway lights, the only source of illumination of your semi-exposed figure, a sort of luminescence that made you radiate with the aura of a siren or some other mythical succubi.

“so fucking tight”, dom’s teeth bit at his bottom lip ravenously, almost drawing blood just from the pressure he put on it. “you take my cock so perfectly, princess”.

his moans escaped his lips in stuttered grunts, only paused to inhale with each violent thrust every time his hips connected with yours.

“only need my cock to satisfy you…”.

you remained silent, only moans spilled from your lips in the absence of words, his cock filled you up completely, the vicious slap of skin against skin, his tear-inducing thrusts accompanied the pleasured sounds. you felt so full with him, his meaty cock filled your slick cunt, gummy walls clenched around him with tight pulses.

“gonna fill you up…so he knows you belong to me”.

dom had every intention of doing so, even as he felt your impending orgasm, the contractions around his cock closed in with shortened intervals, your cunt drooled as slick glistened down your thighs. he knew you would revel in it, in the pleasure he provided, in the warmth that he’d fill you with, you’d savour the feeling as if you could taste it. his hand wrapped in your hair, he tugged tightly as your head flung back in pleasure and with the force of his movements, your cheek sticky with spit. he made no attempt to announce his orgasm, a simple grunt on his part was all it took to let you know, and the viscous warmth that spread through your loins, heat pooled in your belly. before you could even savour the sensation, he pulled out, with the lack of acknowledgement of your own orgasm as the feeling slowly dissipated. a small whine left your lips, your own orgasm slowly ebbed back into nothingness.

dom gave a small chuckle, he simply admired the sight of you all spread for him, your cunt leaked with hot ropes of his lust, you whined, almost begged for him to, at the very least, reach your peak before he stopped. he noticed the way you made an attempt to stand, your thighs shook, quivered with pleasure. he made no effort to help, he insisted that you crawl on your hands and knees if you had to.

“get your ass upstairs princess, i’m not done with you yet”.

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