#and it got me thinking about the age gap bullshit again

[jewishbarbies]

taylor, at 19: don’t you think I was too young? 😢

taylor, at 20: *dates 3 different 17yr olds*

[joelsmochi]

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

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“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

[moonlitsmile]

Just for tonight

dbf! Joel miller x f! reader

part 2

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | After a fight with your drunk dad, he kicks you out. And you show up at Joels door, his close friend he had grown distant with, But the only one nearby. You planned to stay the night, but when a thunderstorm keeps you awake, you find comfort in him…and maybe something even more. (No apocalypse, Sarah is alive in here and no Ellie.)

୨୧ - age gap, reader is 18, (hes early 40s) , crying, innocent reader, inexperienced reader, slight daddy issues, kinda sad, i dragged this out, kinda implied that the reader lives alone with her father, part two is more juicy don’t worry

You didn’t mean to start anything.

You never did, when it came to him.

Most nights, you kept your head down, kept to yourself, tried not to stir the air when your dad was already drinking. You’d learned how to read his moods like the back of your hand. the too-loud television, the way he’d sit in the recliner just a little too long, how his fingers tapped the side of the glass when he was itching to pour another. You could tell when to stay quiet. When to go hide in your room.

lately your father had been acting different, he had been drinking more due to stress at work. And when he drinks it’s bad cause he’s so mean. He dosent know how to handle his alcohol and it irks you. He’s so different from before, he’s not the way he was.

And he acted like you weren’t his girl anymore.

But tonight, you were tired. Tired of walking on eggshells in a house that used to feel like home.

You were halfway down the hall, heading to your room, when you noticed the bottle on the coffee table was almost empty. Again.

“You probably shouldn’t have any more,” you said before you could stop yourself. Your voice wasn’t sharp, it wasn’t even loud. Just soft, like a suggestion. Like you were trying to take care of him.

His head turned slow, and you caught the sluggish movement in his eyes. “What did you just say?”

You hesitated, already regretting it. “Just… maybe slow down a little.”

He barked out a laugh, bitter and humorless. “Don’t start with me,. Not tonight.”

You stood there in the hallway, unsure whether to turn back or keep walking.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying—”

“You’re always saying something, aren’t you?” he snapped, slamming the glass down a little too hard. “Always got your damn opinions. Can’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn night.”

That made your throat tighten.

You looked down, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your shirt. “I’m just worried about you,” you said, voice small.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he sneered. “Worried about me? You think you know anything about how hard I work? What I’ve been through? You sit around like some delicate little flower and judge me for needing something to take the edge off.”

“I wasn’t judging you—”

“Yes, you were. You always are.” He stood now, swaying slightly. “Walking around like you’re better than me. Like you’ve got the right to lecture me in my own damn house.”

You shrank back a step before you could help it. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” he said, pointing at you, voice rising. “Me working my ass off every day just to come home to this bullshit. A mouthy little girl who doesn’t appreciate a goddamn thing.”

Your chest hurt. You didn’t know why it always cut so deep, maybe because deep down, some part of you still wanted him to see you. To talk to you like he used to, before things got… bad.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, you did upset me,” he snapped. “Congratulations.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard. “I’ll just go to my room.”

“No,” he said suddenly, voice sharp.

You paused. “What?”

“I said no. You wanna act like you don’t wanna be here? Like this house is so damn terrible?” He started toward you, clumsy and fast. “Then go. Go on, get out.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to stay calm, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean.” His hand shot out, grabbed the front door, yanked it open. Cold air spilled into the house.

“Dad, stop—” You moved back instinctively.

“I said get out!” he yelled, and this time, there was no hesitation. He reached for your arm, not hard, but firm enough to make your breath hitch, and pushed you out into the night.

You stumbled down the steps, heart racing, bare arms wrapping around yourself in the chill.

The door slammed shut behind you.

And that was it.

No shoes. No coat. No phone charger. No chance to grab a bag. You just stood there, shivering, your eyes stinging from more than just the wind.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You waited. Half-hoped the door would open again. That he’d realize what he’d done and call you back inside. That he’d remember you were his daughter, not a stranger. Not a mistake.

But nothing came.

Just the sound of the wind picking up, and somewhere in the distance, the first low rumble of thunder. Soon to be rain probably going to come down.

As soon as you realized you had no where to go, that’s when the tears began to fall. Scared and vulnerable, in these dim streets this late at night. You were planning to just go back inside, but he had locked the door. Front and back, and the windows were always locked. You sighed shakily, letting out a soft shaky sob. Trying to stop the flowing tears. Your father had always taught you crying got you nowhere, and sometimes it did. But in this situation it clearly didn’t.

So what else was there to do, besides to just start walking?

But The street was quiet.

Too quiet.

You stood there for a long second on the front steps, staring at the closed door behind you like it might swing back open. Like this might just be one of those awful dreams where everything feels too real until you wake up gasping.

But the door stayed shut. No footsteps. No apology. Nothing.

You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking until you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to stop the chill that crept into your skin. The night air clung to you in a way that made your stomach twist, cool and damp and biting against your bare legs.

All you had on was that loose light purple shirt, soft and worn-in from too many washes, and a pair of loose black fabric shorts you only ever wore to sleep. Your white fuzzy socks were already picking up dirt as they padded over the pavement, useless against the cool sidewalk. You hadn’t even had time to put on shoes. Or grab your phone. Or anything.

You just walked.

Because what else could you do?

It was nearly 10 o’clock, and most of the neighborhood had already gone dark. Porch lights were off. Curtains were drawn. The only sounds were the soft hush of wind through the trees and the distant hum of cars on the highway a few streets over.

And then there was the thunder.

Low, deep, and far away, but creeping closer.

You looked up, squinting at the sky. Heavy clouds were dragging across the night, their edges tinged with flashes of light too faint to call lightning yet. The kind of sky that pressed down, that felt heavy on your chest even though it hadn’t fully opened up.

A few cold drops landed on your arms, soaking into the thin cotton of your shirt. It was that kind of light rain that didn’t fall, just drifted. Like the air itself had gone damp.

You didn’t know where you were going.

Your feet just carried you forward, block after block, the chill from the sidewalk slowly sinking into your bones. Every now and then, you wiped at your face, not even sure if it was rain or tears anymore. Probably both.

You tried to keep your head down. Tried to focus on the rhythm of walking. One foot, then the other. But your thoughts spun in circles, chasing themselves.

He didn’t mean it.

Yes, he did.

He was drunk.

But he meant every word.

You sniffed hard, your throat burning. The kind of ache that came from too much silence after too many years of holding back. You wanted to feel angry. You really did. But all you felt was small.

Just small and cold and tired.

The rain was picking up now. Not heavy, but enough to make your shirt cling to your shoulders. You pulled your arms tighter around yourself, socks squelching with every step as they grew heavier with water and dirt.

That’s when a familiar street sign caught your eye. You blinked up at it, heart stuttering.

You realized, Joel lived just a few blocks down.

You hadn’t even meant to come this way. Your body must’ve brought you here on its own, searching for something steady. Something that didn’t hurt.

And Joel had always been that, quiet, calm, warm in a way your father never really was. You hadn’t seen him in a while, but you still remembered the way he used to talk to you like you mattered. Like you weren’t just some kid hanging around the edges of someone else’s life.

You hesitated at the corner, your wet socks slipping slightly on the sidewalk. You could turn around. You could keep walking. Maybe find a bus stop. A bench. Some place to hide for the night.

But your body was already moving again, toward him.

Because right now, in this moment, you didn’t need pride. You didn’t need space to figure things out.

You just needed somewhere to feel safe.

Your legs ached, but you kept walking. The houses started to look more familiar now, even in the hazy streetlight and light mist that clung to everything. You knew this route. You used to ride your bike down it when you were little. Back when things were… simpler.

Back when Joel used to come by.

He was your dad’s friend long before you ever really noticed him. You remembered hearing them laugh together in the backyard, clinking beer bottles over some dumb joke or grilling whatever meat your dad had gotten on sale that week. Joel would toss your dad shit for burning the burgers, and your dad would say something like, “You think you could do better, Miller?”

You always called him Mr. Miller. Never Joel. That was something your dad was strict about, respect your elders, speak politely, don’t be annoying.

But you liked having him around. Even when you were little, maybe eight or nine, you’d find excuses to linger outside longer than you should. Sitting at the edge of the porch steps with your juice box while they talked. Pretending to read a book at the patio table so you could listen to them. He had a deep, calm voice that made the whole world seem quieter when he spoke.

Then, somewhere around thirteen, it shifted.

You couldn’t remember the exact moment it happened. You just knew one day you looked up and realized Joel was… handsome. Not like the teenage boys at school, all sharp elbows and too much cologne. He was something else. Broad, steady, sun-warmed skin and a strong jaw covered in just the right amount of stubble. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he meant it. He listened, too. That alone set him apart.

That was when the little crush started.

You’d try to hang around more when you knew he was coming over. Sit at the edge of the conversation. Ask him about his work or how his truck was running. Nothing major, just tiny ways to get him to notice you.

Sometimes he’d smile at you, real soft. Ruffle your hair or nudge your shoulder as he passed, and your heart would flutter so hard it made you dizzy. You’d duck your head, cheeks hot, pretending it didn’t mean anything. But it did. It always did.

You remembered trying to act more mature as you got older, wearing makeup that wasn’t quite right, putting on clothes that made you feel older than you were. Not in a weird way, not to get attention exactly… you just wanted to be seen. By him. Not as your dad’s kid. Not as a tagalong.

Just… as you.

But Joel had never looked at you that way. Not once. He was always kind, but distant. Like he saw you as something sweet and harmless. A little girl with big eyes and bigger dreams, someone he probably thought was too soft for the world.

And then time passed.

He stopped coming around as much. Your dad got moodier. The cookouts got fewer and farther between. You hadn’t seen Joel in almost 3 years. Not since your 15th birthday.

You were eighteen now.

Not that it mattered. You weren’t expecting anything. You just wondered… would he still see you the same? That shy, awkward kid trailing behind her dad?

Or would he notice how much had changed?

You pulled your arms tighter around yourself, breathing out into the damp night air. Your hair stuck to your skin in places, and the light drizzle was turning into something steadier, soaking through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Up ahead, past the corner, you saw the soft yellow glow of a familiar porch light.

Your chest tightened.

You were almost there.

You slowed as his house came into full view.

There it was, same as always. The porch light was still on, casting a warm yellow glow over the wooden steps and the faded welcome mat. His truck was in the driveway. Lights off inside, except for the soft flicker of something deeper in the house, maybe the living room lamp left on, maybe the TV. You couldn’t tell from here.

Your feet stopped just short of the first step.

What if he was asleep?

What if he got annoyed you were showing up like this, soaking wet and looking pathetic? What if he didn’t even remember you the way you remembered him, just saw you as that kid who used to trail after her dad like a shadow, begging for scraps of attention?

You shifted your weight, arms still wrapped tightly around yourself as you looked down at your fuzzy socks, now nearly gray from the walk. Your legs were cold. Your shirt clung to your skin. You felt stupid.

This was stupid.

You should’ve gone anywhere else. A bus stop. A gas station. Literally anywhere but here.

But still… you lifted your hand and knocked, just once. Soft. So soft it barely made a sound.

You waited.

Nothing.

The wind rustled the trees nearby, and thunder grumbled low in the distance, like it was trying to remind you that this night wasn’t over yet. You bit your lip and knocked again, two quick taps, a little louder this time.

Still… nothing.

You sighed, shaky and small. Your shoulders slumped. Of course he wasn’t awake. It was late. And who in their right mind would want some girl showing up on their porch in the middle of the night like a stray?

You didn’t want to be a burden.

You didn’t want him to see you like this.

You sniffed quietly and stepped back, turning away from the door, heart sinking. You’d figure something else out. You always did.

But then

click.

The sound made you freeze mid-step.

The door creaked open behind you, warm yellow light spilling out into the cool night air.

“…Hey?” Joel’s voice was rough with sleep, low and a little grumpy. His brows were pulled together as he blinked at you, clearly confused. “What the hell…”

But then his eyes really focused, and he saw you. Standing there on his porch in the rain, shivering in your pajamas, hair damp and clinging to your face.

His expression shifted. Still cautious, but… softer now. Concern crept in under the fatigue.

You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky, barely audible, “Hi.”

Joel stared for a second longer, his voice quieter this time. “What… what are you doing here?”

You opened your mouth again, trying to form the words, trying to explain, but they got stuck. Right there in your throat.

Your lips trembled before you could stop them.

“I—” you started, then clamped your mouth shut as your eyes filled with tears.

God. No. Not now.

You blinked quickly, trying to stop them from spilling over. You didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of the man who used to ruffle your hair like a kid. The man who still probably saw you as the quiet twelve-year-old sneaking glances from behind her dad’s shoulder.

You didn’t want to be her right now. You didn’t want to look soft or helpless. You wanted to seem grown, like you could handle it. Like showing up at his door in your socks and pajamas didn’t mean you were breaking apart inside.

But under Joel’s steady, quiet gaze… you just felt small again.

You looked down at your feet, voice cracking when you finally whispered, “I—I couldn’t stay there.”

That was all you could get out.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t look up, afraid of what you’d see in his eyes, pity, maybe. Or worse, that same distant kindness from before.

But then you heard him step aside, his voice lower now, a little more gentle.

“Come on in.”

You stepped in slowly, careful not to let your soaked socks track too much water across the floor. The warmth from the house hit you all at once, soft, dry air and the faint smell of coffee and wood, but your body was still trembling from the cold that had sunk deep into your skin.

You stood there on the rug just past the doorstep , arms wrapped tight around yourself, eyes fixed on the dark hardwood that stretched out into the living room. You didn’t move.

You didn’t want to drip everywhere.

Didn’t want to make a mess.

Didn’t want to be a mess.

Your damp shirt clung to your back, and your fingers were starting to go numb. The rain had only been light, but it was enough to leave you chilled straight through. Your cheeks burned from a different kind of cold, embarrassment, standing there in nothing but your thin pajamas in front of him. Joel. Someone who used to pat your head like a niece or a neighbor kid. Someone who still looked at you like you were something breakable.

He shut the door gently behind you, turning the lock with a soft click. Then he looked at you again, brows pulled together, eyes sharp but not unkind. Still confused, but calmer now.

“Hang on,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw before heading down the hall.

You stayed frozen on the rug, listening to the sound of him rustling through a closet. A moment later he came back with a towel, holding it out to you.

You took it with quiet hands, clutching the soft fabric to your chest before slowly raising it to dab at your damp cheeks, your arms, the rain-wet ends of your hair.

Joel hovered for a second, like he didn’t want to crowd you, then took a small step closer. His voice was quiet, almost like he was talking to a spooked animal.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

You opened your mouth, but again, nothing came out.

Just that awful lump rising in your throat. Heavy and hot. The sting behind your eyes came back stronger than before.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, trying to hold it back, but your breath caught in your chest. Your shoulders trembled, not from the cold anymore.

You were going to cry.

You hated that you were going to cry.

Joel’s expression softened again. He didn’t push. Just waited, voice still low, gentler this time.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

You nodded, pressing the towel against your face, trying to breathe through it. But your voice, when it finally came, was still broken and barely a whisper.

You tried to speak again. The words were there, clogging your throat, pushing at the back of your tongue, but they wouldn’t come out.

Your chest rose in a shallow, shaky breath, and you pressed the towel harder to your mouth like it might hold everything in: the hurt, the tears, the everything.

Joel stood there, watching you, arms crossed loosely over his chest. You could feel the weight of his gaze, steady and quiet, not pushing. Just… waiting.

But when the silence stretched too long, he cleared his throat and spoke, soft and low, like he didn’t want to startle you.

“Well…” he said slowly. “How ‘bout you go freshen up first, alright? Take a shower. See if that helps any. We’ll talk after.”

You gave a small nod, your eyes still locked on the floor. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything, not yet.

Joel didn’t move at first.

You could sense him shifting though, like something in him was working through a thought he wasn’t quite ready to say. His stance was different, less easy than usual. Like he was standing at a strange kind of distance, unsure where the line was now.

Then came his voice again, quieter this time. Different.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me, honey.”

Your breath caught.

That word.

Honey.

He used to call you that all the time when you were younger, when you’d scrape your knee in the yard or fall asleep on the couch during a cookout. Sometimes it was sweetheart, sometimes kiddo, but honey was always the one that stuck with you most. It had curled warm and safe in your chest, made you feel cared for in a way that not many people ever made you feel.

And the truth was… you never liked hearing it from anyone else.

Only Joel.

Only he could say it in that low, steady drawl, like he really meant it. Like it wasn’t just something to say, it was something he felt.

You blinked hard, your vision swimming for a second, and then, slowly, you looked up.

His eyes met yours the second you did.

And he didn’t smile.

He didn’t say anything right away either.

He just looked at you, really looked. Like he was trying to match this version of you, the quiet, trembling girl on his doorstep in too-thin clothes and wet socks, with the one who used to follow him and your dad around, tugging on the hem of his flannel and asking questions about how to grill ribs or fix a flat tire.

You could see it in his face, the shift. That faint crease between his brows. Like he didn’t know what to make of what he was seeing.

You weren’t twelve anymore.

And he knew that.

But the way he was looking at you now… it wasn’t pity. It wasn’t awkwardness. It was something else.

Something that made your skin warm, even as your clothes clung cold to your body.

You held his gaze for just a second longer than you meant to before dropping it again, clutching the towel tighter to your chest.

Joel cleared his throat again, his voice rough but careful.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll find you somethin’ dry.”

You stepped quietly down the hall, arms still wrapped around the towel like it was the only thing keeping you upright. The house was dim, quiet except for the low hum of the air vent and the soft creak of the floor under your feet. Joel didn’t follow, just let you go, giving you space.

The bathroom door opened with a soft push, and you stepped inside.

It smelled the same as you remembered, clean and faintly like cedar soap. The lights overhead buzzed to life as you flipped the switch, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow.

You stood still for a second. Just breathing.

And then the memories came in like a quiet rush.

You used to come in here when you were little. When your dad would drag you along for a night at Joel’s, usually some weekend game night or beer-and-barbecue thing. You were too young to care about football or whatever else they were watching, so you’d wander the house. Sit cross-legged on the bathroom floor playing with your toys or fiddling with little things around the sink while Sarah played with you.

You used to giggle about Joel’s aftershave, mess with the little cups stacked on the counter, open drawers you probably shouldn’t have.

It was warm then. Safe. Full of noise and life.

You pressed your palm to the edge of the sink now, staring at your reflection.

Same mirror. Same faded green tile. Same soft hand towels folded on the rack.

But everything felt different now.

You weren’t a kid sneaking off from a boring football night anymore. You weren’t playing pretend with Sarah while the dads laughed over beers in the kitchen. You were eighteen. Standing in Joel’s bathroom, damp and trembling, heart still twisted from being pushed out into the night by the only other person who was supposed to make you feel safe.

And Joel…

He wasn’t just “Mr. Miller” anymore.

You looked at your own eyes in the mirror, red-rimmed and glassy. Your skin was pale under the yellow light, hair damp and clinging to your neck. You looked lost. And you hated that you looked that way in his house, in his mirror.

You turned the shower on, letting the steam build. The heat was comforting, but it didn’t make the ache go away.

As you pulled your shirt over your head and let your damp clothes fall to the tiled floor, you wondered if he still saw you the same way he used to.

Sweet little girl. Honey.

Or if maybe, just maybe… that look he gave you earlier meant something else now.

The hot water poured over your shoulders like a blanket, soaking into your skin, easing the chill that had sunk deep into your bones. Steam curled up around you, fogging the glass, softening the world until it felt far away. You let your head fall forward under the spray, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing in the quiet warmth.

It was the first time all night you didn’t feel cold.

But your chest still ached.

Your thoughts wandered, slow and heavy, as the water moved down your back.

Where was Sarah now?

She was older than you by a few years. You remembered when she got her acceptance letter for college, how proud Joel had been, even though he tried not to make a big deal about it. You were only fourteen at the time, still in that awkward, in-between phase where you were too shy to speak around him for long, but you remembered how he lit up when he talked about her. How his eyes softened in a way that was different than usual.

Maybe that’s why the house felt so still now. Why it felt… lonelier.

Without Sarah’s laugh echoing down the hallway. Without her music blaring from her room.

You ran your hands over your arms beneath the stream, squeezing your eyes shut as more memories came.

You used to make Joel little cards around the holidays. Ones with clumsy handwriting and glitter that always fell off. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miller” or “Happy Birthday!” with lopsided hearts and cartoon dogs you’d drawn just for him. He kept them, too, you remembered him pinning one up on the fridge one year. Told you it was his favorite thing he got that Christmas.

You smiled at that. Just barely.

Then the ache returned.

Because you also remembered the other times, when your dad would push you to come over even when you didn’t want to. Not to visit Joel, but to learn. Said you should stop wasting time and do something useful. Like music. Like guitar. Joel had offered to teach you, always patient, always kind… but you were stubborn then. Hated the pressure. Hated the way your dad watched every chord you missed, every note that buzzed.

You didn’t appreciate it back then.

But now?

Now, all you wanted was to sit in Joel’s living room again. To feel that careful way he guided your hands on the strings. To listen to him explain things in that slow, steady voice like nothing could ever go wrong.

You leaned back against the tile, breath trembling, arms hugging yourself under the stream.

Everything had changed so fast.

And it hurt in ways you couldn’t even name.

You tilted your head back beneath the water, eyes closed, letting the past flicker behind your lids like old home videos.

You used to get excited when you heard Joel was coming over.

It didn’t start that way, not when you were younger and thought all your dad’s friends were boring. But something shifted when you hit thirteen, maybe fourteen. When you started noticing the way Joel’s voice got even deeper when he was tired, or the way he’d lean in close to listen, really listen, when you spoke, even if it was about something silly.

You started caring more about what you wore when he came by. Not obvious stuff. Just little things, a different shirt, lip balm with a soft tint, brushing your hair twice instead of once.

You weren’t subtle. Not really.

And Joel noticed.

He’d always been good with people. Quiet, observant. He never teased you, never made you feel small. But he knew. And in his own careful way, he humored it. Just enough to make your stomach flutter.

You could still remember one summer afternoon,

the air thick and hot, your dad out back grilling while Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer. You were fourteen, wearing a pale sundress you didn’t even like that much except for the way it swayed when you walked.

You’d wandered into the kitchen, pretending to be after a drink, but you lingered.

“Whatcha drinkin’, Mr. Miller?” you asked, pretending not to notice how dry your mouth was.

He glanced over, already smirking just a little.

“Somethin’ you’re not old enough to ask about.”

You tried not to squirm under the way his eyes flicked down, just briefly, then right back up. Measured. Careful.

“I’m not that young,” you mumbled, reaching into the fridge for a soda.

He raised a brow. “No? When’d that happen?”

You cracked open the can and leaned on the opposite counter, heart thudding.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying for casual. “Just… figured maybe you’d talk to me like a grown-up sometime.”

Joel had chuckled under his breath at that, deep and warm.

“You tryna convince me, or yourself?”

You felt your face flush but you didn’t back down. Not that day.

“You’re mean,” you said softly, but your lips curved into a shy smile.

He tilted his beer toward you just slightly, something fond in the gesture. “Nah, honey. Just honest.”

Honey.

That word again. That name.

It always made your chest flutter. And when he said it then, with a little smirk but something real behind it, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. Just… keeping the line where it needed to be. Even if part of you always wished he’d forget it was there.

Your fingers trailed along the tile wall as the water kept falling, steam curling around you like a blanket. You were warm now, but you didn’t want to step out. You didn’t want to face whatever came next. Not just yet.

Your mind drifted again, this time, not so far back. Not to dress-up days and awkward crushes.

But to the last time you saw Joel.

It had been maybe 3 years ago. Late spring, warm outside but breezy. You’d been sitting on the porch while your dad grilled, and Joel had stopped by out of nowhere. Said he was in the area. Said he thought he’d drop something off.

You remembered how your heart jumped when you saw his truck pulling into the driveway.

You were 14 then, about to be 15. maybe just starting to shed some of that baby-faced softness. You had your legs curled up under you in an oversized tee, and you’d tucked your hair behind your ears three separate times in five minutes, hoping it looked effortless.

He joined your dad out back for a bit. They talked and laughed like always, but it didn’t feel the same.

Joel was quieter. Less at ease. Like something had shifted.

You’d waited for a chance to talk to him. Just you and him.

When it finally came,

he was grabbing a drink from the cooler and you wandered over, slow and shy.

“Hey,” you said, trying not to sound too eager.

He turned, gave you a small nod. “Hey, kid.”

That name stung more than it should’ve.

“I haven’t seen you around much lately,” you said after a pause. “You don’t come by like you used to…”

Joel didn’t look at you right away. He just twisted the cap off his beer and gave a quiet shrug.

“Been busy. Work’s been a lot lately.”

You’d nodded, but your voice was smaller when you asked, “Is it just work?”

That made him glance over at you.

Something flickered across his face then. Something unreadable.

And all he said was, “Nothin’ personal, alright? Just figured it was time I stopped hangin’ around so much.”

You hadn’t known what to say. You just stood there, feeling like maybe you’d done something wrong and didn’t know it.

That was the last time.

After that, no more random visits. No more cookouts. No more evenings where you’d catch his eye across the kitchen while your dad ranted about the game.

He disappeared, just like that.

You thought about it too often, what changed. Why he stopped coming. Why he suddenly felt so far away.

And now here you were, standing naked and dripping in his bathroom, nearly 3 years older, 3 years lonelier… and still wondering what he’d see when you stepped back out into the hallway.

Eventually, the water wasn’t enough to keep you distracted anymore. You’d washed your hair, rinsed your skin clean of the cold and the rain, but that ache in your chest still lingered. Quiet. Heavy. Lingering like steam on the mirror.

You turned the water off with a slow twist of the knob, and the bathroom was instantly quieter. The kind of silence that felt louder than sound.

The air was thick with warmth, soft clouds of steam clinging to the mirror and tiles as you stepped out, careful not to slip. You wrapped the towel around yourself tightly, tucking the edge just above your chest, and stared at your own reflection through the fogged glass.

Still you. Still that same girl underneath it all.

You padded barefoot to the door and cracked it open, a little hesitant. The hallway light was still on, casting a warm glow over the dark hardwood floor.

And there, just outside the door on a small wooden table, was a neatly folded pile of clothes.

Your heart twisted.

One of Joel’s old flannels sat on top, soft and worn, sleeves rolled halfway up like he’d just shrugged out of it. Beneath it, a pair of sweatpants, drawstring pulled loose to make them easier to slip into.

Your fingers reached out slowly, brushing the fabric. Still warm from the dryer.

He must’ve done this while you were in the shower. Quiet, thoughtful. Like always.

You swallowed thickly, lifting the clothes against your chest, holding them like they were something more than just cotton and thread.

They smelled like him. A little bit like soap, like cedarwood, like something comfortingly familiar. Something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time.

And somehow… that made it even harder not to cry again.

You slipped back into the bathroom with the clothes pressed to your chest, shutting the door softly behind you. The tile was still warm beneath your feet, the mirror still fogged.

You took your time drying off, trying to steady your breathing. Your hands shook a little as you tugged on the sweatpants, they were far too big, pooling at your ankles, but the drawstring helped. The flannel hung heavy and soft on your shoulders, sleeves nearly swallowing your hands. You rolled them up like he always did, and that made your stomach twist strangely.

You didn’t bother with your damp clothes. You folded them neatly and set them by the sink.

When you finally stepped out again, the hallway light was dimmer, as if Joel had turned it down for your sake.

You padded into the living room quietly, your damp hair clinging to the sides of your face, falling in soft waves down your back. Joel was sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand, the TV playing something low he clearly wasn’t paying attention to.

He looked up when he heard your soft footsteps.

And his eyes landed on you.

There was a flicker in his expression, like a pause in his chest, like something caught in his throat and he didn’t know how to swallow it.

You looked so small in his clothes.

That big flannel hanging loose over your frame. Those sweatpants dragging the floor. Your bare feet quiet against the wood.

And your face…

Still that same softness. Damp lashes, flushed cheeks, lips parted slightly like you wanted to say something but weren’t sure how. You looked young. Not like a child, but vulnerable. Open.

The kind of quiet Joel remembered from a girl who used to make him lopsided cards and ask too many questions. Who’d sit on his porch with a guitar too big for her lap and try to act like she didn’t care when she missed a chord.

Now you stood there, older, but still her.

Still you.

He cleared his throat softly, sitting up a little straighter on the couch.

“Clothes fit alright?” he asked, voice low, rough around the edges from the late hour.

You nodded, eyes dipping for a second.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “They’re warm.”

He watched you for a beat longer. You weren’t just cold anymore. You looked tired. Like you’d been holding it together all night and were starting to unravel in slow pieces.

Joel set the bottle down and motioned gently toward the couch.

“C’mere. Sit with me a minute, alright?”

You hesitated for just a second before your feet carried you forward, slow and quiet, like you were afraid you might break the moment if you moved too fast.

The couch dipped as you sat beside him, your knees curling slightly, the flannel sleeves covering half your hands. You didn’t look at him right away, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor, but you felt his presence close beside you. Solid. Safe.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just let the TV flicker in the background, the sound low and meaningless. He was giving you time, something he’d always been good at. Even back then, when you’d get shy around him, stumbling over your words, he never rushed you.

He always waited.

After a moment, his voice broke the quiet, low and gentle, like he was talking to a skittish animal.

“You feelin’ any better?” he asked, glancing over at you. “Shower help at all?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah… a little.”

He gave a soft hum, then let another pause stretch before speaking again.

“I don’t wanna push,” he said slowly. “But if you feel like talkin’… I’m listenin’. Just tell me what happened, honey.”

That word again, honey, it hit a little different this time. Not like earlier, when it caught you off guard. Now it warmed something in your chest, loosened something tight inside you.

He said it so kindly. Like he still cared. Like he still saw you.

You sat there for another long second, your throat burning, and your eyes started to sting again.

Your voice cracked before you even got the words out.

“He—” You swallowed hard. “My dad… he was drunk.”

Joel didn’t move, didn’t interrupt. His body stayed still and quiet beside you.

“He just started yelling,” you continued, wiping quickly under your eye with the edge of your sleeve. “I don’t even remember about what—stupid stuff, nothing really. I told him to stop, and he just… snapped.”

Joel’s jaw tensed slightly, but he didn’t speak.

You stared at your knees. “He told me to get out. Didn’t let me grab anything. Just… pushed me out the door.”

Your voice shook a little at the end, and you hated it, hated how small it made you feel, how young.

But Joel didn’t make you feel embarrassed. He didn’t make a face or say you were overreacting.

He just let out a low breath, like his chest had been holding onto something tight, and nodded slowly.

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears from coming again, but one slipped free, tracing down your cheek.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered.

Joel turned toward you then, one arm resting on the back of the couch, eyes fixed soft on your face.

“You did the right thing comin’ here.”

He said it so simply. Like it wasn’t even a question. Like this was home, in some quiet, strange way.

And for the first time in a long time, you started to believe that maybe it could be.

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, watching the way your fingers tugged at the edge of the flannel sleeve, twisting the fabric, nervous and uncertain. You always used to fidget like that when you were a kid, especially when you were trying not to cry.

His eyes softened.

“I know it’s hard,” he said quietly. “But can you tell me more? About what he said?”

You didn’t answer right away. The words sat heavy on your tongue.

“I just—” You paused, jaw tightening slightly. “He gets mean when he drinks. You know that. But tonight was… different.”

Joel didn’t speak, just nodded for you to keep going.

“He said I was ungrateful. That I acted like I was better than him. Like I thought I didn’t need anyone,” you said, your voice starting to tighten again. “I told him that wasn’t true. I was just trying to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen. He shoved a chair over. Said if I thought I was so grown, then I could go be grown somewhere else.”

Your hands trembled again, and Joel felt his own fingers curl slightly where they rested on his leg.

You didn’t notice the way his jaw clenched. The quiet way his gaze sharpened, hardening under the softness as the picture of what had happened grew clearer.

“He didn’t let me grab my phone,” you said. “Or my shoes. Nothing. Just opened the door and told me to get the hell out.”

Joel’s chest rose and fell with a slow breath, controlled, but you could feel something shift in the air beside you.

You didn’t recognize it. But he did.

It was anger.

It started as a flicker in his stomach the moment you said he pushed you out. But now it was burning, low and steady. Not just anger, but something deeper. Protective. Dangerous in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’d always been his buddy’s kid. The sweet girl who made him smile without even trying. But hearing you now… sitting there beside him in his clothes, hair damp and eyes rimmed pink, trying so hard not to fall apart—it made something hard and cold settle in his chest.

He should’ve been there.

He should’ve known.

You sniffled softly, not even realizing how quiet he’d gone.

“I just kept walking,” you whispered. “Didn’t even think. I guess I just… ended up here.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you.

And something in his expression shifted. his voice low, but laced with something sharp, bitter at the edges.

“That son of a bitch…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

You blinked, startled by the words, but he wasn’t done. His voice stayed quiet, but it was firmer now, heavier.

“He put his hands on you? Kicked you out in the damn rain?” His jaw worked as he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What the hell was he thinkin’?”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just sat there, small in his clothes, your hands tugging gently at the sleeves again.

Joel let out a slow breath, then leaned back, trying to steady himself. His voice softened again.

“I should’ve been checkin’ in more,” he added, glancing over at you. “Should’ve known somethin’ was wrong.”

You looked at him quietly, heart aching at the way he said it. Like he blamed himself. Like he cared more than you’d ever let yourself hope he still did.

But instead, You shook your head, biting your lip. You didn’t want to seem like it was his fault, it wasn’t. Was it..?

“I should’ve said somethin’ sooner,” you murmured. “I should’ve told someone.”

Joel shook his head.

“No. This ain’t on you.”

You finally looked up at him then, and for a second, the man who’d always called you sweet names and teased you gently over burnt Christmas cards was gone.

This Joel was still gentle. Still calm.

But there was steel in his eyes now. A quiet fury, buried deep, but real.

And you weren’t sure if it was meant for your dad, or for himself.

Joel leaned forward again, his forearms resting heavy on his knees, calloused hands clasped tight together. The TV still flickered on in the background, casting pale light across the living room, but neither of you were paying it any attention.

You glanced over at him, noticing the way his brow was pinched, the way his eyes didn’t move from the floor.

“I… I don’t want you to be upset,” you said quietly, hesitant. “It’s not really your fault, Mr Miller. I probably, should’ve kept my mouth shut. I made it worse.”

He turned his head slowly, eyes meeting yours.

“That ain’t true,” he said, low and rough. But you looked away again, still picking at your sleeve.

“I know how he gets,” you continued, your voice soft and tight. “I should’ve just walked away. Stayed quiet like I usually do…”

Joel’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. You didn’t see the way his expression twisted, how his guilt sank deeper, heavier.

Because all he could think about was how your dad hadn’t always been this way. He used to be different. Not perfect, but not… cruel. Not violent.

Back then, when you were younger, when Sarah was still around, when there were beers on the porch and a game playing low in the background, everything felt simpler. Lighter.

Joel used to come by all the time. You’d sit nearby and try to join their conversations, and he’d tease you gently, always patient with your little questions and awkward crush. And your dad… he wasn’t great, but he wasn’t this.

Then something shifted.

Your dad got meaner. Shorter tempered. Drinking more. Joel started noticing the way he’d snap at you in passing, the way he brushed you off coldly. How you’d get quiet around him, nervous, like you were walking on eggshells.

And Joel stopped coming around so much.

He told himself it was just life getting in the way. Work. Sarah getting older. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He couldn’t watch it happen. Couldn’t be around your father without wanting to knock some sense into him.

And now here you were, curled up beside him in borrowed clothes, cold and small and hurting.

And he hadn’t been there.

“If I’d stayed around… if I’d checked in”

He swallowed hard, hands still knotted together.

“You didn’t make anything worse,” he said finally, voice thick. “Don’t ever think that. That man’s lucky I wasn’t there tonight.”

You glanced at him, and for the first time, saw the fire behind his words. Not just protectiveness, but something else. That weight in his chest, years in the making.

He still saw you.

And part of him was terrified he hadn’t seen you enough.

You looked at him for a long moment, the room quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV and the faint tap of rain still clinging to the windows.

There was something different in Joel’s eyes now. Still steady. Still warm. But deeper. Like something unspoken had just cracked open between you both.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know- I didn’t mean to wake you, Mr. Miller…”

Joel’s head turned toward you slowly, and for a second, there was the faintest curve to his mouth, small, almost wistful.

Mr. Miller.

God, you used to say it so sweetly, so earnestly. Even when you were barely tall enough to reach the countertop. He remembered the first time you called him that, probably seven years old, a little shy and serious, peeking around your dad’s leg and clutching a juice box. And every time after, no matter how many times he told you to call him Joel, it was always Mr. Miller.

He exhaled softly, something fond flickering in his eyes.

“I remember when you used to say that all the time,” he said, voice gentle now, like warm honey. “Every single visit. Hi Mr. Miller. Bye Mr. Miller. Always so polite.”

You looked down, suddenly feeling sheepish. “My dad made sure I had manners…”

Joel tilted his head just slightly.

“Yeah, well… you can drop the mister now,” he murmured. “You’re not a kid anymore. Just call me Joel.”

There was something quiet in the way he said it. Not sharp or dismissive, just honest. Like he was seeing you clearly for the first time in a long while.

You nodded slowly, still not sure if you could actually say it. It felt too strange in your mouth. Too grown.

But Joel didn’t push you. He just leaned back a little more into the couch, his posture easing, his tone softer.

“And for the record,” he added, eyes back on yours, “I’m glad you came here. You don’t gotta be sorry for that.”

Your breath caught a little, a warm swell pressing behind your ribs. You felt young again. And safe. But not like before. It was different now.

More aware.

More real.

And when Joel looked at you, really looked at you, you wondered if he felt that difference too.

You sat there in the quiet, your fingers toying gently with the hem of the sleeves that were far too big for you. The towel had warmed you up a little, and Joel’s clothes smelled like laundry and faint traces of cedar and something you couldn’t quite name, but remembered.

Your voice came out softer than you expected, barely above the low hum of the television.

“Would it… would it be okay if I stayed here tonight?”

Joel turned to look at you. His brows lifted just slightly, and there was the briefest pause, like the question caught him off guard.

Not because he didn’t want to say yes.

But because of course you should stay. After what happened, after what your father did, how could he not open his home to you? To the little girl he’s known since she was a baby.

But Still, he hesitated. Just for a second.

Not because he didn’t care. But because you weren’t that little girl anymore in a too-big T-shirt following Sarah around the backyard. You were older. Barefoot in his living room. Wrapped in his clothes. And the look in your eyes was something entirely different from the last time he saw you.

But Joel cleared his throat quietly, pushing the thought down. You needed a place to feel safe. That was all that mattered.

“‘Course you can,” he said, voice low, but certain. “Sarah’s room’s all cleaned out. She’s off at college now,” he said gently. “You can sleep in there.”

You blinked, your lips parting like you might protest. But Joel was already continuing, his tone patient.

“I’ll be just down the hall in my room, alright?.”

That quiet reassurance settled something in your chest.

You nodded, almost shyly. “Thank you…”

Joel stood, his movements slower, more careful than before. “Don’t gotta thank me, honey,” he said softly, the way he always used to. “Get settled in. I’ll grab you a blanket and some extra pillows”

And just like that, he turned toward the hallway, his broad figure disappearing into the warm, quiet house.

You sat there a moment longer, heart a little steadier now, hands still curled into the soft sleeves of his shirt.

You were really staying here.

In Sarah’s room. In Joel’s house.

And for the first time all night… you didn’t feel like you were in the way.

You stepped quietly into the bedroom, the soft creak of the old door sounding louder in the stillness of the house. It had been years since you’d stood here, years since you and Sarah sprawled across the bed laughing about nothing, painting your nails or talking about people from school like everything in the world was easy and small. You were 15 and she was 17.

Now the room felt… different. Not quite cold, but still. The air had a faint scent of old vanilla candles and laundry detergent, the comforting smell of a space that had been lived in and then carefully packed away.

The bed was made perfectly, with a smooth white comforter tucked into the corners, the kind of tidy only a parent would maintain after their kid left. The desk sat bare except for a ceramic dish holding three stretched-out hair ties and a lone bobby pin, like remnants of a girl who had left in a hurry. A dried-up pen rested in an old mug that once held makeup brushes or pencils or candy, maybe all three. The walls were mostly blank, but you could see the faint outlines where posters had once hung. Her favorite bands, probably. A couple of movie characters. A few pictures of the two of you, maybe, back when things were simple.

Your eyes drifted to the edge of the room where the carpet was slightly darker. That’s where her laundry basket used to sit, full of crumpled t-shirts and inside-out jeans. You remembered how she used to throw stuff around when she got ready, how her music would blast through the walls, loud enough to shake your bedroom when she stayed over.

But now the silence settled like a blanket, thick and a little heavy. You stood near the doorway, damp from the rain, arms folded loosely against your chest, the oversized shirt Joel gave you falling past your shorts. His scent, warm, musky, a little woody, lingered in the cotton, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second and breathe it in.

You hadn’t felt safe all day.

And somehow, standing in this room with its quiet stillness and its faded memories, you started to feel it again.

Down the hall, Joel moved through the linen closet with the kind of tired hands that came from long days and long years. He pulled out a blanket, soft, thick, the one he’d always kept folded up in case Sarah got cold watching movies. Then a pillow. He paused, squeezing it once before tucking it under his arm.

His brow furrowed as he stood there, staring blankly at the shelf for a moment.

He didn’t know what the hell he was feeling.

She was just a girl. The same girl who used to trail after Sarah with stickers all over her arms, asking him questions about his truck or pretending to care about baseball stats just to be part of the conversation.

But that wasn’t who walked through his door tonight.

Tonight it was her, wet, shaking, in his clothes that hung off her frame in a way that made his stomach tighten. Not because of anything he wanted to feel. But because of everything he shouldn’t.

The softness in her face hadn’t changed, not really. But her body had. Her voice. Her presence. It rattled something in him.

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped away from the closet.

She’d grown up.

And maybe if he’d stuck around, if he hadn’t distanced himself once her father started turning bitter and mean, maybe he would’ve noticed it sooner. Maybe he could’ve been someone she called before walking the streets alone at night in the rain, wearing nothing but socks and shorts, looking like something fragile and forgotten.

Instead, she’d shown up at his door, eyes wide and wet, shoulders hunched like she expected to be turned away.

Joel clenched his jaw, adjusting the pillow under his arm and walking slowly toward the bedroom.

He didn’t know how this night would end. He didn’t even know how to look at her without feeling like the ground was shifting beneath his boots.

But he knew one thing for sure.

He wouldn’t let her feel unsafe again. Not here.

Not with him.

He nudged the door open gently with his shoulder, the quiet creak just enough to draw your attention. You sat at the edge of the bed, your legs dangling a little above the floor, back slightly hunched, hands folded in your lap. You looked so small like that. Wrapped up in his shirt, damp hair falling down your back in soft, dark strands. Your bare legs curled inward a bit, your socked feet barely brushing the edge of the carpet.

Joel hesitated in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame, the pillow and blanket tucked under his arm. His eyes swept over the room, then landed on you, and lingered.

There was a softness in his gaze now, one he didn’t quite mean to show. But he couldn’t help it. You looked up at him slowly, not quite meeting his eyes, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.

He swallowed, his voice a little rough when he finally spoke.

“Brought you these,” he said, stepping forward and placing the folded blanket and pillow beside you on the bed. “Should be comfortable enough for the night.”

You gave a quiet nod, your fingers gently smoothing the edge of the blanket even though it didn’t need it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice still soft, still a little shaky.

Joel stood there for a beat longer than necessary. Just watching you. Noticing the way your shoulders curved inward, the way your eyes lingered on the far corner of the room like you were deep in something, something far away from here.

He didn’t want to leave you like that.

He let out a quiet breath, then crouched down slightly in front of you, not close enough to overwhelm you, but enough that you’d have to look at him if you wanted to respond.

“You alright?” he asked gently.

You nodded again. Then, after a pause, you finally looked up.

Joel’s chest tightened.

That look, it was the same one you gave him when you were younger and your dad had yelled too loud at the barbecue. Or when you’d come inside with a scraped-up knee and didn’t want Sarah to see you cry. That look of quiet embarrassment and vulnerability, like you weren’t sure if you were being a burden.

He hated it.

You opened your mouth, maybe to say something, but nothing came out. Your lips just parted, then closed again. You tried to hold eye contact, but it slipped away. You shook your head once, quietly.

Joel’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out, put a hand on your shoulder or gently touch your knee the way he would’ve back then, but he didn’t.

Instead, his voice softened even more.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured. “No pressure. Just… take a breath, honey. You’re safe here, okay?”

There it was again. That name. Honey.

It wrapped around your chest, squeezing.

You hadn’t heard it in so long. Not like that. He used to say it all the time when you were little, C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside, or That’s a good drawing, honey. Real good. You never liked hearing it from anyone else. Only him. From Joel, it felt like care. Like being seen.

You blinked quickly, looking down at your hands so he wouldn’t see the emotion tugging at your lashes.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than him.

Joel stood slowly, but before he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway, glancing back at you one last time.

“I’ll be just down the hall. If you need anything, anything at all, you come get me.”

You nodded without looking up, but your lips quirked just barely.

“Okay,” you said softly.

Joel stared at you a beat longer.

Then, quieter, almost to himself, he murmured, “alright then.”

And with that, he stepped out, the door clicking softly shut behind him, leaving you with the blanket, the silence… and a heart just a little steadier than before.

The room was dark now, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp leaking in through the half-closed blinds. You laid curled on your side, Joel’s blanket pulled up to your chin, the scent of clean linen and his detergent wrapped all around you. The pillow was soft, too soft, almost. The kind that let your thoughts wander too easily.

You’d been staring at the same shadow on the ceiling for what felt like an hour.

Sleep just wouldn’t come.

Maybe it was the unfamiliar bed, maybe the echo of the day still buzzing under your skin, but more then anything it was the weather.

The rain had started as a gentle tapping against the window, barely noticeable at first. But slowly, it picked up, growing steadier, heavier, drops rolling down the glass in quick patterns. Then came the low, rumbling thunder. Distant at first, a slow growl behind the clouds.

But now it was louder. Closer. A sudden crack split the sky, followed by a deep, echoing boom that made you flinch under the covers.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand tightening slightly around the edge of the blanket.

You’d always hated thunderstorms.

You remembered once, when you were little, seven or maybe eight, and one rolled in while you were at Joel’s with your dad. Joel had noticed you trying to be brave, but he caught the way your shoulders jumped when the thunder hit. Without a word, he’d passed you a blanket and a glass of water and let you curl up on the couch near him and Sarah, the sound of his voice from the other room calming you more than the storm ever could.

You missed that feeling now. That safety.

Another loud boom cracked overhead, and you sucked in a breath, your eyes flicking toward the bedroom door like instinct.

Joel was just down the hall. But you didn’t want to bother him again.

Still… something inside you itched. That little part of you that still felt like a kid in a too-big world. Alone. Unsure.

Down the hall, Joel was dead asleep.

He’d barely made it into bed before he’d knocked out, body heavy with exhaustion. Work had drained him earlier, and the long hours he put in, paired with the sudden rush of concern when you’d shown up on his doorstep, had left him bone-tired.

The steady rhythm of rain outside didn’t stir him. Not yet, anyway.

But it stirred you.

You laid there, curled into a ball beneath the blanket, your knees tucked close, your face half-buried in the pillow. The thunder rolled again, deeper now, rattling the glass just faintly. You flinched, your breath catching, blinking fast.

You weren’t crying. Not really.

But your eyes burned a little.

And as you listened to the sound of the storm, your fingers curled tighter around the blanket.

He was so close. Just down the hall.

But would he mind?

Would it be too much?

You bit your lip and stared at the door, unsure if you’d ever stop feeling small in the quiet.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, its red numbers glowing faintly: 12:03 a.m.

Midnight.

You were still curled on your side, blanket wrapped tight around your legs, eyes wide open and fixed on the glowing sliver of light under the bedroom door. The storm outside had gotten worse, no longer just a gentle background hum, but a full-on downpour. The wind hissed between the trees, rattling leaves and creaking old branches.

Then, another flash of lightning. Bright enough to paint the entire room for a split second in stark, silver light.

You barely had time to brace yourself before the thunder followed, cracking through the air like it had split the sky in two. Loud and sharp, like it was right outside the house. You flinched so hard your legs kicked against the sheets.

Your breath caught, chest rising and falling too fast now. Your hand flew up to press against it, trying to calm the thumping beneath your skin. But it didn’t help.

God, you hated this. You hated storms like this, when they felt too close, too loud, too heavy. Like they could crawl under your skin and shake you apart from the inside.

You turned onto your back, blinking up at the ceiling again. The soft darkness, the quiet of Sarah’s old room, it wasn’t enough anymore. It felt too quiet compared to the chaos outside. And it only reminded you how alone you were in here.

You glanced at the door again.

Joel was just down the hall.

But would it be too much to go to him?

He’d already done so much, took you in, gave you a warm shower, his clothes, his daughter’s bed. You didn’t want to seem childish. You didn’t want to push boundaries. But…

Another flash, crack, this time even louder. Your hand gripped the blanket tightly.

That was it.

With slow, careful movements, you peeled the covers back. The air outside the blanket was cooler now, and goosebumps instantly formed on your legs. You slid your socked feet to the floor quietly, wincing slightly as one creaked against the wood.

Your hair, now dry, hung in soft strands down your back, sticking a little to your skin from the residual warmth of sleep and nerves. You gently pushed it behind your ears as you stood.

Hesitation curled in your stomach, heavy and anxious.

You stepped to the door, standing in front of it with your hand hovering over the knob.

You could go back to bed. You could wait it out. You should wait it out…

But then came another crack of thunder, louder than any before, almost shaking the glass in the window. And that was enough.

Fingers trembling slightly, you turned the knob.

And with a soft breath, you stepped out into the quiet hallway.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the pale wash of moonlight seeping in through the front window and the occasional flicker of lightning flashing through the curtains. You walked slowly, the wood floor cool beneath your socks, your fingers brushing the wall as you passed by old picture frames and familiar corners.

Joel’s door was at the end of the hall, just like you remembered. Just like he said, come to him if you need anything.

It was slightly cracked open.

You swallowed softly, your steps faltering as you reached it. For a moment, you just stood there, the soft rumble of thunder in the distance filling the silence around you. The house smelled faintly of rain and fabric softener and the faint trace of Joel’s cologne still lingering in the air.

You gently reached out, pushing the door just enough to see inside.

The room was dark, but your eyes adjusted quickly. Joel lay on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other resting loosely beside his head. His chest rose and fell in steady, even breaths, his brow relaxed in sleep. The blankets were half pulled over him, and his face was turned slightly toward the door, catching a sliver of the lightning’s glow as it flashed outside.

He looked peaceful. Tired, but at ease.

You didn’t want to disturb that.

Your hand lingered on the doorframe, your weight shifting between your feet as you stood there in hesitation. Maybe you should go back. Maybe this was silly, maybe it was childish. The last thing you wanted was to make him think you couldn’t handle being alone in a room anymore.

But another clap of thunder cracked above the house, louder this time, and you jumped slightly, your breath catching in your throat. You felt the sting in your eyes before you could stop it.

You didn’t want to cry again.

Not in front of him. Not like this.

But you didn’t move. You stayed there in the doorway, frozen in the space between needing comfort and being afraid to ask for it.

Joel stirred slightly at the sound of the thunder, his brow twitching before his breathing evened again.

Still asleep.

You took a quiet, shaky breath, your hand slowly sliding down from the doorframe.

What if he didn’t want to be woken up?

What if he was mad?

What if you looked like the same scared little girl he used to tease gently during storms and cookouts?

But what if… he still cared?

Your voice barely made a sound as you whispered, “Mr. Miller…?”

No response.

Your lips parted to try again, quiet, unsure.

But You just stood there, just a little longer, hands curling into the sleeves of your borrowed shirt. His room felt warmer than the rest of the house, full of something familiar. Safer. But… you couldn’t do it.

He looked so peaceful. Tired. And after everything, after taking you in without hesitation, you didn’t want to seem selfish. You didn’t want him to think you were being dramatic over something as silly as thunder.

So, slowly, you stepped back.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you turned, bare feet light on the floor. You exhaled softly, already about to head down the hall in your mind. But then—

Creaaak.

A loud, sharp groan from the floorboard beneath your foot split through the quiet like a gunshot. You froze instantly, lips parting, eyes wide in horror.

Behind you, there was a shift. A rustle of blankets.

A low, gravelly voice, tired and rough from sleep.

“…What the hell…”

You slowly turned around, just enough to see Joel blink blearily in the darkness, his hand rubbing over his face before settling on his chest as he rolled on his back. His brows furrowed as his eyes adjusted, squinting through the low light.

When they landed on you, standing there like a child caught sneaking out, they softened slightly, but only just.

“…You alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse, a little rough with sleep. Then, with a grumble, “Why’re you creepin’ around like that? It’s the middle of the night.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what to say, arms instinctively crossing over your chest.

“I— I was just…” you whispered, eyes flickering down, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Joel let out a low, tired sigh and shifted to sit up a little, propping himself up on one elbow, still trying to shake off the haze of sleep. His voice was less annoyed now, but still heavy.

“You need somethin’?” he murmured, watching you closely, his voice softer than before. “Or you just gonna haunt my doorway like a damn ghost?”

You stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tugging anxiously at the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you earlier. His shirt. Your voice was barely audible under the hum of the rain and the soft clap of distant thunder.

“I… I got scared,” you admitted, eyes cast low. “The thunder, the lightning… I know it’s dumb.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand across his face. He wasn’t mad at you. Not really. He just hadn’t had much sleep, between work and you showing up at his door soaked through and shaken, and now it was past midnight and your voice sounded like it used to when you were little, all soft and trembling. That’s what got to him.

He leaned up on one elbow, blinking blearily toward the door.

“Christ,” he muttered, voice gravelly. “You still get spooked by storms, huh?”

You shifted your weight, chewing your lip.

“Didn’t think I still would,” you murmured.

Joel huffed, more to himself than to you, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up further. But the second he looked at you again, your now soft dry hair falling soft over your shoulders, that hesitant look in your eyes, it all hit him at once.

You weren’t that little girl anymore.

But in that moment, all he could think about was how many times you’d crept out during storms, curling up beside him on the couch while Sarah snored away in the other room. No words, just a quiet, innocent need for comfort. And how natural it always felt to give it.

But this, now, wasn’t so simple.

Not with the way your body filled out that shirt.

Not with the way something deep in his chest stirred just looking at you, a twinge of guilt shadowing the way his thoughts flickered dark for half a second, wondering how your warmth might feel curled beside him again. How small you’d feel in his arms now.

Joel dragged in a breath, low and tired.

“Used to be you’d sneak out to the couch,” he said gruffly, gaze lingering just a beat too long. “Tryna act like you weren’t scared. Like I wouldn’t notice you pressed up against my side like a puppy.”

You blinked, surprised he remembered. Your voice was small. “You never said anything.”

“‘Cause you looked like you’d cry if I did,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Always been soft.”

He let the words settle. Then, after a pause, his jaw worked a little and he sighed, half annoyed with himself, half too tired to care.

“You comin’ in or just gonna stand there all night?”

You hesitated a little longer, still standing in the doorway with your fingers curled in the fabric of the shirt. His shirt.

Your voice came out quieter this time, almost unsure.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay? Just… just until it passes?”

Joel looked at you again, eyes bleary but steady. He could see it, how nervous you were. Not just about the storm, but about being here, in his room, asking him for comfort like you used to. But it wasn’t the same now. You weren’t seven anymore. You weren’t some little girl needing to be scooped up and soothed.

You were grown.

And your body, Jesus, your body looked nothing like the last time he’d seen you. You’d filled out in every way, but there was still that wide-eyed softness in you. That part that always looked to him like he could make the world okay again if he just said the right thing.

He shifted on the bed, patting the other side with a quiet sigh.

“Yeah, darlin’. Just ‘til it passes.”

You gave a shy little nod before walking in slowly, the rain outside soft against the windows but thunder cracking again somewhere far off. You were trembling just a little when you got to the bed, and you climbed in carefully, like you didn’t want to disturb anything. Like you were scared of waking a moment that didn’t belong to you.

Joel didn’t move.

You settled on your side, back to him at first, curled slightly beneath the covers he pulled back for you. The warmth of the bed hit you instantly, and it was hard not to sigh in relief. But it wasn’t just the heat from the sheets or the thunder outside easing off, it was him. His presence. Just knowing he was here, that he let you in.

Your heart beat a little faster as it all hit you.

You were lying next to Joel Miller. The man who used to pat your head when you showed him little drawings. The man you used to make Christmas cards for. The man you secretly loved ever since you were thirteen and realized he wasn’t just “Mr. Miller,” your dad’s friend… but someone who made you feel safe. Warm. Special.

And now, here you were, older, softer, scared again. But this time, it felt different.

He was right there. His breath slow behind you. His body warm. And you couldn’t help but wonder…

Did he feel it too?

You lay still at first, curled close to the edge of the bed like a guest who didn’t know the rules. The blankets were warm, and the pillow soft, but your body couldn’t quite settle. Your back was to him, and your fingers were knotted into the sheets like they might keep you anchored.

The storm outside was still rumbling, the thunder not as sharp now but deep and constant, like it was pacing around the house.

You weren’t even sure if Joel was awake. You thought maybe you’d imagined him shifting behind you, until his voice came, low and rough with sleep, but clearly not imagined.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” he muttered, grumbling like it physically pained him to speak in the middle of the night.

You stiffened a little, eyes wide in the dark. “I—” You swallowed, heat creeping into your face. “I didn’t wanna bother you…”

There was a pause. He let out a quiet sigh, one of those Joel sighs you remembered from when he’d get tired of your dad’s nonsense during cookouts. Tired, dry, and somehow still patient.

“Jesus,” he murmured, not harsh. Just tired. “You think I told you to come in here just to let you freeze over there like a damn guest?”

Your face burned. You bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the rain.

Carefully, so slowly it felt like a small journey, you shifted under the covers. Inch by inch, you moved closer. You could feel his body heat before you were even halfway there, and by the time your shoulder was only a breath away from his, you hesitated again. But something in you wanted more than just his warmth. You needed to feel him. To be close.

So you moved the last few inches, gently laying your head near his shoulder. Not on him—at first. Just close enough to breathe easier.

And then you gave in. Your cheek pressed gently against his chest, and your arm curled in toward yourself, fingers brushing his side as you tried not to overthink it.

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But God, the way he felt, his chest rising and falling steady beneath your cheek, the familiar scent of him wrapping around you like a second blanket. That old scent. Soap and cedar and worn cotton and Joel.

You hadn’t felt this safe in a long time.

A tiny, involuntary sound left you, a soft, relieved sigh as your body relaxed. You nuzzled in just a little more, eyes fluttering shut as his warmth finally started to melt the cold from your skin.

Joel hadn’t said anything, but you could feel the tension in his chest. Not discomfort. Just… hesitation.

You knew that too. He didn’t know what to do with you now, not like this. Not grown, not curled up in his bed wearing his shirt, looking for comfort only he could give.

He didn’t say anything right away. But his chest shifted beneath you, his breathing slowing. And then, finally, his hand came up, tentative, rough, warm, and hovered near your back. Not touching. Just close. Like he was reminding himself that you were real.

You didn’t know if he’d fall asleep again. But you knew you would.

Because this was all you needed.

Joel stared at the ceiling.

The room was dark, save for the occasional flicker of lightning behind the curtain, and the steady sound of rain tapping on the window filled the quiet space. But even with the storm softening into background noise, sleep wouldn’t come.

He could feel her beside him, soft and warm, her breath slow and even now that she’d finally calmed down. She’d melted against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her head resting gently on his chest, her hand tucked near her own heart, curled in the way people do when they finally feel safe.

Joel’s arm had settled around her without much thought. His hand now rested lightly at her waist, fingers lax but aware. He hadn’t meant to, at first it was just instinct, like the way he’d comforted Sarah when she was little, or even how he used to drape a blanket over her when she’d fall asleep on his couch during those late visits.

But this was different.

She wasn’t that little girl anymore.

The shape of her, the softness of her body as it pressed into his side, it was impossible not to notice. He hadn’t seen her in so long, and now here she was, grown, hurting, and laying in his bed like this was where she belonged. And Joel didn’t know what to do with that.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he tried to steady the tide of thoughts rising in his chest. It wasn’t just that she’d changed, it was the way she still made him feel responsible, like her well-being was somehow in his hands. Maybe it always had been.

And dammit, part of him wished he had stayed around. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she wouldn’t have shown up at his door soaked to the skin, eyes full of tears, begging silently for someone to just see her.

He shifted slightly, just enough to look down at her.

She looked peaceful now. Fragile, even. Her damp hair lay across his shirt, and her face, still youthful, but no longer childish, was softened by sleep. He remembered that face years ago, peeking up at him from a guitar she didn’t want to learn, or from behind her dad’s leg at a cookout.

And now here she was.

Joel let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, low and quiet.

She stirred a little but didn’t wake. Just nestled in closer, chasing his warmth in her sleep. And God help him, Joel tightened his arm gently around her, just enough to hold her there, just enough to keep her safe for one more night.

“Jesus,” he murmured under his breath, barely audible. “When the hell did that happen?” Referring to you growing up. Your once small body, developing.

Sleep would come for her.

But for him… maybe not just yet.

I had to freaking make this two parts since it’s so much so part 2 is just pure smut

[nozo-muu]

NEVER WAS THERE EVER A BOY SO PRETTY

Pairing: Matt Murdock X Male Reader X Frank Castle

Content: nsfw, implied established relationship, implied age gap?, oral, handjob

Author's note: Tumblr won't let me add "diet mountain dew" as a song so...

This is a 1000% self indulgent and ooc, but I don't really care, so enjoy...

The living room was filled with papers, empty glasses and cans scattered all over the floor of your apartment. The tension was palpable, the importance of this case weighted heavily on the three of you.

Matt was seated on a chair, deep in thought while Frank paced around murmuring to himself. You were seated on the floor flipping through the papers on the low table at the center of the living room.

"There must be something we're missing..." Matt whispered.

"We need more of those bastards to speak on what happened.” Frank cursed under his breath.

“Maybe if you hadn't killed them all, we wouldn't lack so much intel.” Matt objected.

Frank gritted his teeth.

“What are you insinuating, red?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

The punisher clenched his fist and was about to reply when you got up.

“Will you shut the fuck up already! If you're not going to be cooperative, you're free to leave. I'll be more productive without your bitching anyways.”

They both turned to look at you, walking towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Who do you think you're talking to, kid?” Frank yelled from the other room.

Getting out of the kitchen and walking into the living room towards your room, you glanced towards the other two.

“I'm not doing this today. You're free to go.”

Frank was about to take a step when he felt Matt's hand on his chest, stopping him with a murmur of his name.

“Calm down, Frank. I'll go talk to him.”

Matt approached your door and knocked lightly before getting inside. Once in your room, he could feel the essence of the familiar space. You were seated at your desk, doing something on your laptop.

You looked up at him. He could sense how you were feeling. Sad. That's the best way to put it. He took another chair and sat beside you.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone is dry.

“Look, I know you don't like when Frank and I fight. I'm sorry for that.”

“Yet you don't seem to stop.”

The words hit him like a truck. You had a point. They were almost always bickering, even though they knew you didn't like it.

“That's how we are, that's what we are. And you know we don't actually mean harm to each other…”

Bullshit, you thought to yourself. But you didn't say anything…

Your lack of answer made him uneasy. He took your hand in his and gave it a light kiss. You glanced up at him. You scoffed at the absurdity of the action and your reaction made him smile.

The door slowly creeped open, and Frank came in. He looked at the two of you, smiling slightly. He got behind you and placed his hands on your arms, caressing them slowly.

“I'm sorry darling. Didn't mean to raise my voice at you like that.”

Matt glanced up at him, still smiling.

“And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start anything.” He interjected.

“It's okay, it's in the past now. Just don't let it happen again, you know I don't like when you guys fight.”

“No, no, no. We have to make it up to our pretty boy here.” Frank whispered.

“Seems fair… We've upset you, so we’ll make sure you're happy with us.”

You humm in contentment. Matt got on his knees in front of you while Frank continued to caress your arms.

“Is that so?” You asked in a sultry tone.

Matt had already started to unbutton your jeans while Frank took care of your shirt. He slowly took it off and he leaned down to give you a passionate kiss.

While this was happening, Matt didn't waste a second and got rid of your pants while he caressed your now exposed torso.

A low guttural moan left your lips, making Frank grin. Matt was now caressing your thighs and kissing your lower belly.

He slowly tugged at the hem of your boxers…

“Wow there cowboy, I'm not about to be the only one naked here.” You remarked.

Frank and Matt looked at eachother, and took of their shirts immediately. You smile at the sight.

“That's more like it.”

Matt continued getting your lower half undressed, exposing your member to the colder air of your room.

He started kissing the area while you and Frank continued making out.

Frank pulled away, lingering on your neck for a bit.

“Why don't we lay down…?”

“Attaboy.” Frank said.

Matt got up, starting to unbutton his own pants while you took care of Frank's, leaving them both in their boxers.

You laid down on your back, while they both kneeled in front of you. They started kissing, slightly rougher than they did with you… it was a sight for sore eyes.

You started stroking yourself, the two men in front of you still switching saliva with each other. The way their muscles clenched at each other’s touch was mesmerising.

Frank glanced at you and smirked. He loved having that effect on you. He slowly pulled away from Matt, and turned his attention to you. He started caressing your thighs while Matt climbed on the bed to kiss you.

God you loved it, the taste of his sweet lips on yours, caressing his toned body while he grinded mindlessly on you.

Meanwhile, Frank had started kissing closer and closer to your length, the sensation making you shiver in pleasure. He took you into his mouth and started swirling his tongue around your tip.

Funny to think he was this good given that he had only started sucking cock when he began hanging out with you.

He took you further into his mouth, going up and down repeatedly. Your low moans were being swallowed by Matt, who pulled away and started to kiss your neck leaving light red marks all over your collarbone and chest.

You were getting close, overwhelmed by the sensation, and you could feel Matt was hard as a rock. You pulled him aside and made Frank pull away, who was already stroking himself.

“How about we do THAT at the same time?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes gleamed with excitement at your proposal, so he got up and crawled on top of you and kissed you before rolling to the side to lay beside you, propped on the headboard. Matt did the same once he removed his boxers.

Seeming as they couldn't keep their hands to themselves, they started caressing your body and Frank started stroking your length while you kissed Matt.

You weren't any better than them, and the lust consuming your mind, you grabbed their members, already leaking with precum, and started moving your fists up and down.

The sensation was electric. Frank's mouth approached your neck, his grunts being drowned by the flesh of your neck while he left marks in the surrounding area.

You were nearing climax, and so were they. With a final groan from Frank, he came, and while you turned to kiss him, Matt and you did too.

You three laid there for a while, worn out. After a while, you kissed both of them before getting up and going to your bathroom for a towel. You came back and cleaned up before laying between them again.

Frank placed his head on your chest and Matt hugged you from the side. You rested quietly for a while before Frank spoke.

“Is our pretty boy happy?”

“You bet.”

[rottenk1sses]

Dilf art but with a bigger focus on the age gap. He feels SO guilty like he's doing something wrong even though you're both adults. Idk idk.. and maybe he gets really embarrassed with himself cos he's not like 'older bf dom daddy' and maybe even lets a quiet "mommy" slip when yall fuck and and and

cw : dilf!art, implied large age gap, choking (18+)

the guilt chews at art’s limbs like a hungry wolf. a wolf that’s so starved for sustenance that it resorts to consuming the flesh of a man as disgusting as himself.

he tries not to bully himself with the fear that he might have an intrinsically problematic attraction to younger women, but it always creeps back into his chest in the dead of night. he didn’t seek you out, he just happened to connect with you and you just happened to be young. that was all.

you’re over eighteen years old anyway, so what’s the big deal? right? it’s legal. it’s moral ethical somewhat socially accepted. so he shouldn’t let himself feel too bad.

but god, you make it worse with the way you make him feel.

it’s bad enough that he’s decades older than you are, but the fact that you make him feel like an innocent little lamb is a whole other pandora’s box of issues.

the people that can get over the age gap also seem to be the ones who can’t get over the fact that you have him wrapped around your finger. they want him to be your protector; your knight. so when they realize that he withers pathetically into the ground the second you’re nearby, they’re ready to deem the relationship ‘gross’. he thinks it’s laughable that they’d rather you have an electra complex than him be your boy-toy. but whatever.

whatever!

it’s all traditionalist bullshit.

.. but damn if it doesn’t make his insides squirm when he thinks about how objectively perverted it all is.

he even thinks about it when you’ve got him trapped underneath you, choking him with two hands wrapped around his throat as you fuck yourself on his cock. he’s still strong enough that he could easily push you off and take over, but he’d never in a million years want to do that.

he likes it underneath your pretty body. it’s where he belongs.

so he moans raggedly and brokenly when you pull another orgasm from his shaking frame, your cunning smile only fueling his pleasure as the lack of air makes his face tingle.

“that’s my boy,” you growl, rocking your hips at an agonizingly quick pace as if you’re trying to kill him, “fffuck, artie, you’re gonna make me cum again—“

your hands are off of his throat in the next second, letting him pull a hearty gulp of oxygen back into his lungs, and then you’re guiding his palms up to squeeze your tits. he keens, coughing around a hoarse whine. he’s crying. (typical.)

“fuck, fuck fuck, i’m gonna cum-!” your head tips back as the words spill from your mouth, and he uses all the strength left in his lower body to shove himself as deep as he can go, punching the spongy spot buried in your walls.

you see stars; burning waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins and lapping at your cunt from the inside out. art shudders at the way you squeeze around his length, and he grips your thighs tight because he thinks he’s about to black out.

this should be considered elder abuse.

you continue riding him through your climax, ignoring the gush of your fluids over his convulsing pelvis. your hand drags up his chest and then slides to play with his short locks.

“still with me? i’m not done with you.”

he nods up at you; brow pinched and tongue heavy in his drool-filled mouth. he can only manage two whiny, desperate words.

“yes, mommy..”

[slut4thebroken]

Home Improvements

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x wife!reader

Summary | Emmett does yard work while you’re outside tanning and you (both) get a little needy.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, humiliation, exhibitionism, a lil degradation, breeding, slight age gap, they’re so cute it kinda makes me sick lol.

Words | 1.8 k

Notes | I’ve been wanting to write some consensual Emmett stuff for a while so thank you to the anon who sent an ask to @kiss-me-cill-me who ended up tagging me🤭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

More of these two

(Ignore the fact that idk how lawn mowers work lmaooo)

You were laying down on a lawn chair in your favorite bikini, sunglasses on and book in hand, but you weren’t reading anymore. You were completely focused on Emmett. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open and his already short sleeves were rolled up a little, showing even more of his muscles and tattoo in a way that made your mouth water. 

When you noticed he was standing still, you forced yourself to pay attention and realized he was looking at you. “What?” You called out. The engine of the lawn mower was still on, but it was quieter now that he wasn’t moving it. 

“I asked if it’s too loud.” Your heart fluttered a little— he’s always so considerate. 

“No it’s okay. Thank you for checking though.” You were out here first so of course he wanted to make sure he wasn’t disturbing your tanning/reading time. 

You continued watching him. Occasionally he’d stop and remove his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he was getting through it pretty quickly, much to your displeasure. 

“Hey, Emmett?” You yelled, hoping he heard you with how far he was. He paused, turning toward you, and when you waved him over, he obeyed instantly.

“Yeah?” 

“Aren't you kind of hot? It’s like 80 degrees out today.” You said casually, confusing him. 

“A little, I guess.” He shrugged. 

“Maybe you should take your shirt off. Feeling the breeze really helps.” You suggested, glancing down at your mostly nude body to show that you weren’t completely bullshitting that excuse. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a little, looking away from you with a small smile. 

“Sure, baby.” You knew that he knew exactly what you were doing, but you didn’t care. You got what you wanted and that’s all that matters. He started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, then tossed it onto the second lawn chair. Since he already knew, you decided to close your book and put it on the small table in between both chairs. 

“You know, it also might help if you work a little slower too. Going fast means using more effort, and that means getting hotter quicker.” You knew it was grasping at straws and completely cheesy, but he scoffed a laugh and played along. 

“Good point. Any other suggestions?” 

“None that don’t involve public indecency.” You said teasingly and he chuckled again before walking back over to the lawn mower to continue. You could see now that his torso was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, only getting you more worked up. 

There was something so incredibly hot about watching your husband do completely mundane, domestic tasks like mowing the lawn and barbecuing. He also had a really bad habit of doing home self improvements… so at any given time, there was at least one part of the house that was unfinished. The plus side to his love of home diy’s was that he’d build you things for the house, like extra storage in a weird space where nothing could really fit, or a new table after you accidentally spilled paint all over it and couldn’t get it off. 

You frowned when he turned the lawn mower off and started walking over to you. “It looks amazing, honey.” You smiled, shamelessly eyeing his body as he sat down on the chair next to yours. You offered him your glass of ice water which he took eagerly, gulping down more than half of it in one go. “You know, I think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job.” Honestly, it was more a reward for you being able to sit here for half an hour without jumping his bones. 

“You hate when I’m all sweaty.” You could tell that he wanted whatever you were offering though. 

“Yeah… but that just gives us an excuse to have round two in the shower.” You smirked and his lips curled up into a small smile. 

“Come here.” He said as he laid back in the lawn chair, letting you climb onto his lap. His hands settled on your hips as you took off your glasses and his hat before finally kissing him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, letting you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. When he pulled back, you whined quietly. “I don’t think I can do yard work while you’re tanning anymore. I’ve been hard since I walked out here.” You choked out a laugh, then started grinding on his bulge, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I agree. I’ve been wet since you started mowing.” You leaned down to kiss him again, still grinding your hips, and his hands dragged up your sides to cup your breasts, making you moan quietly. When he pulled your bikini down to rest below them, you let out a gasp that turned into a mewl when he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. “Fuck- Emmett…” You said through a breath, tightening your grip on his hair. “People might see.” Even though you were in the backyard that had a wood fence all the way around the perimeter, there was still a chance. 

“Thought you said I deserve a reward.” He grumbled, moving to your other nipple to suck and nip at it teasingly. “And I want to fuck my wife on my own property. I don’t give a shit if someone sees.” You knew that wasn’t true. You’d have to stop him from commiting a felony if someone accidentally saw your body because of how jealous and possessive he could be. 

“I’m gonna be pissed if we get in trouble with the HOA.” A few years ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d be married, living in a suburban house, worried about the HOA. Despite your words, you started snaking your hands down his chest and stomach to his belt. You managed to unbuckle it, even with how close your bodies were, then you opened his pants and took out his cock, stroking him to full hardness. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, kissing up your chest to your neck, then sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a mark. “Need you, doll.” He whispered, hips bucking up toward your hand, desperately seeking out your tight, warm cunt. Since you were just as desperate, you quickly pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and sunk down on his cock, making both of you moan. You sat down on him completely, then paused, needing to let yourself adjust. 

When his hands snaked around to your back and tugged on the string of your bikini, you gasped and tried to keep the fabric from moving away— at least with it below your breasts, you could quickly cover yourself if needed. Emmett didn’t seem to care about that though as he pulled it over your head then threw it somewhere to the side. 

“Fuck..” You said through a breath. The risk was making you infinitely needier and as you continued to get more turned on, you started to care less about someone possibly seeing. 

“Come on, baby. Give me my reward.” He gruffed. As if your body was completely under his command, you started rocking your hips, warming yourself up a little. You cried out when he suddenly slapped your ass. “You know what I want.” His voice was much harsher now, making it clear that this was a demand, not a request. So you started bouncing up and down on his lap, forcing moans out of both of you. “That’s it… Be a good little wife and use that greedy cunt to please my cock.” He groaned, slapping your ass again before moving his hands up to grope your tits. You were starting to sweat now as you panted, quickly heating up from the exertion. 

Getting bolder, he suddenly reached for the strings on both hips, then quickly pulled to untie them. “Emmett..” You warned— being completely nude was way too risky.  

“We can move this to the front yard if you’d prefer.” He threatened, making you falter. When you gave up on trying to stop him, he smirked and removed the fabric, leaving you fully bare. “What would people say, honey?” He murmured mockingly. “If they knew that you liked riding me in public, in broad daylight, without wearing any clothes.” 

“Emmett…” You whined, his words making you needier. 

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek. “You can’t help being a whore, but it’s okay because you’re my whore. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes.” You mewled, desperately moving your hips, chasing your release. 

“Say it.” His hands settled on your hips and he held you still, then started bucking up into you. 

“I’m your whore, Emmett.” You whined with a blush. He moved one hand to smack your ass as a warning, then immediately put it back on your hip. “I’m your whore!” You cried out, much louder this time. “Fuck— please make me come.” 

“Wait just a little longer, doll, I’m almost there.” He said breathily, tightening his grip on your hips almost painfully and bucking up into you so fast, you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your breasts were moving embarrassingly with how hard he was pounding you, only furthering your humiliation… which only brought you closer to the edge. 

“Emmett.. please, I can’t hold it.” You whimpered, clinging to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. 

“Go ahead, sweet girl…” He said through a breath. “Come for me.” You reached down to rub your clit and when your orgasm crashed over you, Emmett quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth, muffling what would’ve been a mix of a scream and a moan. You stared down at him with furrowed brows as your body trembled with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you. 

He cursed under his breath when your orgasm made your cunt squeeze his cock almost too tight, sending him over the edge as well. You only had to endure the overstimulation for a few seconds while he continued bucking up into you, riding it out. His grunts and breathy moans were creating a new pool of arousal in your stomach, but he was done before he could get you worked up all over again. 

When he relaxed his grip, you accidentally sunk down all the way, making you both wince from the sensitivity. You were still panting and Emmett was in a similar state, but he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss anyway. It was short, but still deep and passionate, leaving you even more breathless. 

“I’m going to look into building higher walls for the fence so you can start tanning naked.” His lips were curled up into a poorly concealed smirk. “Just so you don’t get tan lines, obviously...” He said coyly, making you laugh. 

I think I want to write more for them cause I really like their dynamic so send me some ideas <3

[nastybuckybarnes]

In the Ring

Pairing: dbf!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky takes your dad out boxing.

Warnings: Violence, Language, minor angst, fluff, age gap relationship and all that goes along with that, minor injuries

Word Count: 1.7K

A/n: Here's a little thingy thing for this series... im open to asks for this one as well as my inspiration for it is starting to fizzzzzzle up

~*~

Bucky steps into the ring, his heart hammering in his chest as he cracks his neck.

"Interesting choice for today," your dad says, securing his boxing gloves then bouncing up on the balls of his feet.

"Figured it's about time we got back into the ring."

In truth, there are a few things he wants to talk to your dad about, and he's expecting a good beating for them anyway. Might as well make sure they're wearing the proper protection.

"Glad you finally got a break from work, house's been real empty without you there. Think even (Y/n)'s startin to miss your ugly mug," your dad jokes.

Bucky swallows hard and nods, holding the pads tightly as your dad starts swinging slow and controlled.

"Yeah, that's uh… kinda one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."

Your dad pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"You know how for the past few months I've been… well… happy?"

Your dad says nothing, only eyes him warily.

"It's because I've been seeing this woman. She's… gorgeous and fun and smart and an absolute spitfire."

He eases up a bit and starts throwing loose punches again.

"Yeah, when are you going to let me meet this chick, anyway?"

Bucky winces and takes a deep breath before finally spilling the beans.

"You already have."

Your dad's brows draw together as he tries to remember ever being introduced to his best friend's mystery woman.

"What's her name again?"

Here it is.

"(Y/n)."

He doesn't see the punch, only recognizes it when he stumbles to the ground with the side of his face throbbing.

"Are you serious right now?!" Your dad's chest is heaving, fury filling him as Bucky pushes to his feet, dodging another swing.

"That's my daughter! My baby girl! You're fucking sick!"

He swings again, chasing Bucky around the ring while the brunet tries to reason with him, holding his hands up in surrender.

"No! Hear me out! Please!"

"No!"

This time when your dad swings, Bucky ducks under his arm and kicks his legs out from under him, giving him a moment to try and defend himself.

"I love her!"

"Bullshit!" Your dad spits, pushing to his feet. "You have a new girl every week! I've had toothaches with more commitment than you!"

If the man wasn't actively trying to kill him, Bucky might laugh at that comment.

"When was the last time you heard me talk about another woman? Hmm? All this time it's been her! For the past year, the only person I've been talking about has been her! I tried going on a date with someone more… my age, and the whole time I couldn't get your daughter out of my head."

They stand on opposite sides of the ring, Bucky with his hands out ready to thwart another attack while your father slowly lowers his hands.

Has it really been a year? His daughter and his best friend have been having a secret relationship for a year?

"What are you saying?" He asks, panting hard.

"I'm in love with her, with your daughter. I love her with my entire heart to the point where I would bring you here to beat the shit out of me because I can't keep it from you anymore. You're my best friend, but you're also the father of the woman I love. I have a lot of respect for you, but even more for her, and I need you to know that your daughter… she's a woman that I could see myself marrying."

Your dad's fist is connecting with Bucky's face once more and the brunet curses, jumping out of reach again.

"In due time! I'm not asking for your blessing, fuck!"

Your dad stands there silently, glaring at Bucky for a long moment before sighing and rubbing the back of his glove over his forehead.

"That's my baby girl," he whispers, heart aching. Sure, he knew one day you'd find some jackass that doesn't deserve a fraction of your heart, but he never thought that jackass would be Bucky.

The same Bucky who was there when your mother died.

The same man who's been a rock throughout your and your father's lives.

"I know, believe me, I do. But you know me. I would never do anything to hurt her, not on purpose. All I want is for her to be happy, and for there to be no more secrets between us. I can see how much it hurts her to keep this from you and… it's not her responsibility to tell you. It's mine."

Slowly, Bucky lowers his hands and takes a step toward your dad, huffing out a sigh.

"If you want to hit me again, I understand. Fuck, I'd hit me too. And… I understand that my history… I haven't exactly been the type of man a woman's excited to tell her dad about. But the way your daughter… she makes me want to be that man. Be a better man than I've ever been. And this is where it starts."

Your dad groans, his face screwing up in disgust.

"So over the summer when you would check up on her while I was away on work… oh God, I don't even wanna know."

Bucky tries hard to bite back a grin at the memories, he really does, but his lips twitch upward regardless.

"Like I said, I love her with my whole heart. And I fucked up, so all I want is to try and fix this."

This catches your dad's interest.

"What did you do?"

Puffing out another breath, Bucky shakes his head and jumps on the balls of his feet to keep himself warm.

"I guess now's as good a time as ever to come clean."

Your dad rolls his eyes and raises his fists once more.

~*~

You touch up your makeup, looking over your appearance once more before heaving a sigh.

You've spent the last week or so locked up in your room like a hermit, and today it seems like your dad has finally had enough.

"Put on a nice dress - I'm tired of seeing you rot."

"We going out?" You asked, pushing yourself out of your bed and shoving your hair out of your face.

"Get dressed."

Adorning your body is a lovely deep blue dress, with a slit in the left leg and delicate straps criss-cross across your exposed back.

Finally satisfied with the way you've done yourself up, you exit your bedroom and carefully descend the stairs.

"You look gorgeous, kiddo," your dad says, a proud smile on his face.

You can't help but smile back, the smile fading when you notice he's still wearing his pyjamas.

A throat clears behind you and you whirl around, your throat tightening when you see the man behind you.

Bucky stands, tall and dashing in a tux, his hair slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed. He's got a nasty bruise on his right cheekbone that wraps to his eye, and for a moment you're concerned.

"You look stunning," he says softly, his eyes gentle.

You swallow hard and look between him and your dad as your heart begins to race.

"What's going on?"

Your dad wraps you tightly in his arms, sighing shakily.

"Have fun tonight, kiddo." He pulls away and cups your cheek, nothing but pride (and a few tears) in his eyes.

"And you," he points to Bucky, "Don't have her out too late."

He pulls you into one more tight hug, bringing his lips to your ear.

"We've got a lot to talk about tomorrow," he whispers.

You pull away and look between the two men rapidly, still not fully comprehending what's going on.

Bucky comes up behind you, gently taking your hand and spinning you to face him

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers. The words are said to your dad, but his eyes are focused on yours the whole time.

"You'd better."

You're all but walking around with your mouth agape as Bucky leads you outside.

"What… what's going on?" You finally ask when the door closes behind you.

"Your dad didn't want you to miss out on the banquet just because I fucked up. And if you don't want to go with me, I'll understand and so will he. I just… I miss you and I know how excited you were to go."

You feel a little breathless, and you're glad he's got your hand held tightly in his.

"You told him about it?" You ask quietly.

He gives you a soft smile and squeezes your hands tightly.

"Babygirl, I told him everything."

Your breath hitches and you feel tears well up in your eyes at his words.

"You… he knows…?"

Bucky nods.

Your fingers tug from his and he feels his stomach drop, only to settle when you trace over the bruise on his face.

"Is that where you got this?" You ask softly.

He chuckles and leans into your touch.

"Your dad's quick, I'll give him that. It took a while and a few punches but… he knows about us. About how I feel about you, how you make me want to be a better man. I want to take care of you and provide for you and I never want to hurt you the way I did. And he… he understands."

You stare up at him, eyes full of wonder and awe.

"You did all of that... for me?"

He presses a sweet kiss to the back of your hand and nods.

"I did. I did it for us. Because I'm tired of keeping you a secret. I'm tired of other guys lookin' at you like they can have you, and I'm tired of not being able to show you off. You're not an object, but you're mine. And, more, importantly, I'm yours. I always will be. You may not know it, but my heart is entirely yours. And if you want to throw it on the ground and give it a stomp, I wouldn't blame you."

You're shaking your head at him before he's finished speaking.

"I would never..." You trail off, looking into his eyes as tears well up in your own.

"I love you, sweetheart. I really do. And I'm sorry I've been so shit at showing it. But, if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life tryin' to prove it to you."

You can't help the small shy smile that pulls at your lips, and you duck your head to nod.

"Well, I guess I can't stop you from trying."

[lacroixwh0r3]

The First Taste

DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You meet Joel, your dad's best friend, for the first time after your dad begged you to join them at the lake to keep Sarah company. Both you and Joel become fascinated by each other the moment the two of you met.

Warnings: SMUT!!! DUB CON, heavy sexual tension, drug usage (weed only), petnames, age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 21), masturbation (F and M), fingering, voyerism, daddy kink, dom!Joel, Joel is a perv and an asshole, cursing, swimming??, no outbreak

Song inspo (feel free to read if you want): The First Taste by Fiona Apple

PART 2 PART 3

A/N: This takes place four years before Blow My Load, but can be read as a standalone.

Please share, comment, like, and reblog...enjoy lovies! <33

"Dad, I thought it was supposed to be a "boy's trip," and the last time I checked, I am not a boy." You point at your body as you tell your dad. For some reason, he is begging you to come to the lake with him and his friends the day before they leave. "Why won't you just tell me why you want me to go? And maybe I'll give you an answer."

You finally got him to crack.

Your dad let out a defeated sigh as he scratched the back of his head and avoided eye contact. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever bullshit your dad was about to say. "Well, you see, honey, one of the guys couldn't get a babysitter for his kid, and I offered you to keep her company." He winced.

And there it is. The thing he was holding back from you

You let out a sarcastic chuckle. You really couldn't believe this shit. "Are you serious, dad? I refuse to babysit some random kid because you offered me up without even asking me first!" You exclaimed at him. "I don't even know a damn thing about this kid."

"Look, I know it was wrong for me to do that, sweetheart, but I swear Sarah is a good kid. Most of the time she has her headphones in and minds her business." He tries to reason with you, almost pleading with you. You began to feel bad for blowing up on him like that, but it really did piss you off that you had to watch someone else's kid. "I'll even pay you."

This weekend, you planned on doing nothing but self-care. You wanted to do nothing but stay home, watch movies, get a mani and pedi, go get a massage, drink, and maybe even play with the new toy you just bought yourself at Spencers.

You feel yourself giving into your dad; it wasn't the money that made you say yes, but the fact that he always found a way to make you feel bad, even if he didn't mean to do it. "Ugh, fine!" You scoff as you turn to look away from him. From the corner of your eye, you can see his body perk up.

Your dad lets out a sigh of relief, saying, "Thank you so much, sweetheart! You're such a lifesaver; you know that, right?" He slaps your shoulder playfully, causing you to shrug it off and narrow your eyes at him playfully as well.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. How old is your friend's daughter, anyway?" You asked him, unfazed by it all.

"I think she's around 14?" Your dad said cluelessly. "Not too bad, right? I'm sure that you can find something to talk about with her."

It wasn't that bad, but what the fuck would you, a 21-year-old, have in common with a 14–15-year-old girl?

"I guess. I'm gonna start getting my stuff all packed up," You tell him as you turn around to go up to your room.

"Alright, sweetheart, and thanks again!" He exclaims to you as you make your way farther up the steps.

"Yup!" You yell it out dismissively.

As much as you hated the circumstances, you were happy you were finally able to get away for a little bit.

...

It was the next day, and you were tired as hell after only getting four hours of sleep. You had spent all night packing and stressing about what you were going to wear. It wasn't like you were trying to impress anyone, but this was your first time meeting your dad's friends, and you wanted to look decent.

You had left it up to your dad to pack your things into the car as you were too tired to do anything besides shower, put your clothes on, and lay back down for a little until it was time to go. As you lay face down on the bed, knocked out, you heard your dad knock on the door. "Hey, kiddo, are you ready to head out?" He asked you as he stood at the door.

You slowly sit up on your bed as you yawn and stretch your arms over your head. "Yeah, let me just get up and grab my purse and stuff."

"Got it." Your dad says this before turning around and making his way downstairs.

After moments of sitting on your bed, stairing into space, you got up, grabbed your purse, and began to leave your room. However, on your way to the door, you see the pouch that contained your weed and weed paraphernalia. You hesitantly swiped it from your dresser, dropped it into your bag, and went downstairs.

If the men got to have their fun, why couldn't you?

Once you get to the last step, you hear your dad saying bye to someone on the phone before turning to you. "My buddy, Joel, just got to the lake house, so we should start headin' out." He says this as he grabs his keys and motions for you to follow him to the door.

After making sure the security alarm was set and locking the door, the two of you were finally on your two-hour journey to the lake house.

...

You and your dad finally made it to the lake house. It was a three story house that sat on top of a hill, surrounded by nothing but trees.

You and your dad hop out of the car and start bringing your bags to the front door. All of a sudden, the moment you sat the last bag down and brought your fist up to knock at the door, it swung open, revealing a man who looked to be in his early 30s with short, dark, curly hair.

Beside him was a woman with long locs, smiling warmly at you. Meanwhile, the man looked at you with confusion, trying to piece together who you were. You looked familiar to him, but he couldn't put a name to your face.

"Tommy!" Your dad said loudly behind you. You could hear the excitement in his voice as he greeted him. Tommy's eyes moved to look behind you at your dad, and his eyes lit up.

"Oh man, y'all come on in!" He opened the door wider as he and the unnamed woman moved out of the way to allow you to walk in first, followed by your dad. "I'll grab the rest of the bags out there." Tommy says.

Tommy brought the bags in as your dad greeted the lady. "Hey, Maria!" He asked her as he gave her a side hug. "I didn't know you were gonna be joining us this weekend as well."

So that was her name.

"I didn't think I was going to be joining either. Tommy invited me last minute, so I just decided to take some time off of work," She replies back.

They stood near the entrance as they began to get deeper into the conversation, talking about God knows what, leaving you standing there awkwardly as you watched them. You decided to take that moment to observe the room. Even though the house was spacious, it still had a cozy feel to it.

As you were in your own world, your dad gently slapped his hand on your shoulder unexpectedly. "And this young lady right here is my daughter." He smiles at the two as Maria and Tommy turn their attention to you.

"Nice to meet you, kid," He says as he offers his hand to shake yours, which you accept. You shake hands with him before dropping them to your side. Tommy then points to Maria. "This is my wife, Maria."

You shake hands with her as well while you tell them your name. "It's so great to meet you two!" You beam at the couple.

They begin to ask you a series of questions about yourself, such as what university you attended, what your major was, and so on, to which you gladly answer.

However, in the midst of your conversation, your words are abruptly interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. "And here comes my asshole brother, Joel, and my niece, Sarah," Tommy says to you, prompting both you and your dad to look behind you. You can hear Maria let out a loud laugh at Tommy's words.

Your eyes immediately focused on him as he got closer to you, not even paying attention to the fact that his daughter was right behind him as well.

The man named Joel had short, dark, curly hair like Tommy’s; the only difference is that he is a lot shorter, and the roots of his hair were slightly gray at his temples. Joel also had a patchy beard with a thick mustache. He has this rugged and mysterious look to him that completely enraptures you.

He and your dad greet each other, giving a quick bro hug and pulling away. Joel then turns to you, and you feel your hands quiver. His dark, dominant eyes intensify the intimidating aura that surrounds him, yet it still makes him even more interesting to you.

Holy hell, you think to yourself. This man is so fucking fine.

You continued to stare at Joel, saying absolutely nothing, until you realized that he was giving you a confused look as if he were waiting for something. Your eyes darted down, and you realized that he had his hand out, waiting for you to shake it. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you went to shake his hand.

"Joel," was all he said as the two of you shook hands before he let go and discreetly rubbed his hands into his shirt. You could feel yourself shrink with embarrassment as he did this. Not only did he not even give you a chance to introduce yourself, but he wiped his hands after shaking yours.

What a fucking jerk! Tommy was right; he is an asshole.

You quickly snapped out of your feelings when you realized that Sarah was now in front of you. She wore a pink crop top and jean shorts, while her curly hair was placed in a low ponytail.

She suddenly brings you in for a hug with a massive smile on her face, catching you off guard. Nonetheless, you still happily return the hug.

"I'm Sarah. It's nice to meet you!" Unlike Joel, Sarah was a lot more friendly with you. She had this radiant energy to her that made you wonder where she got it from because it definitely wasn't from Joel's grumpy ass. You tell her your name.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Sarah!" I return a smile back to her. She seems like the sweetest 14-year-old you've ever met. "I think we're gonna get along just fine this weekend."

"We sure are!"" She agrees.

"Sarah, sweetheart, how've you been?" Your dad asked her.

As your dad began to talk to Sarah, you decided to check Joel out while he listened to the conversation, occasionally putting in his two cents. Unlike the rest of the group, Joel wore a dark gray shirt, jeans, and some boots.

How is he not hot?

I mean, he is hot, but I meant temperature-wise, you think, causing yourself to let out a low chuckle.

You guess you said that out loud because Joel’s head, along with Maria's, Sarah's, and Tommy's, suddenly snapped over to you with eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Your dad's voice slowly began to fade when he saw the mortified expression on Sarah's face.

"Wait, what happened?" Your dad asked cluelessly as he looked around the group. He was so in his own world that he didn't hear what you said. Thank-fucking-goodness. "Everyone just stopped talking all of a sudden."

"Nothing!" You quickly tell him as you give him a disengenious smile before looking at everyone else. Sarah looked embarrassed for you, as Tommy and Maria still looked shocked. You get a glimpse of Joel as you wince in embarrassment and close your eyes; he had this smug look on his face.

You gathered that Tommy obviously loves to fuck around with people because he let out a stifled laugh, causing his wife to slap his arm and tell him to shut up.

You just wanted to die right then and there. This is now the second time today you've embarrassed yourself in front of this sexy ass man.

Your dad, being the clueless person he is, continues on with whatever he is talking about, not even realizing that no one is paying attention to him. Maria interrupts your dad as she clears her throat to catch your attention. She had a sympathetic look on her face. "Sweetie, your room is on the second floor next to, uh, Joel's, if you wanna get settled in," She offered to you. "We're going to head out to the lake and start putting some things on the grill around 2 or so." You just nodded your head because you were too afraid to speak.

"Hey, Joel?" Tommy looked at his brother with a teasing look on his face. "Why don't you go show her to her room, yeah?" He nods his head in the direction of the staircase.

You wished that you could just punch Tommy across the face at this very moment.

"Umm yeah..." Joel agrees slowly as he gives Tommy a dirty look before glancing at you. "Follow me," You nodded your head and grabbed your purse and other bags. As you followed Joel, the group quietly picked up their conversation again.

Without saying a word to each other, you and Joel arrive in the room. He steps aside, allowing you to enter, and turns around to make his way down the hallway to go back downstairs, but you quickly stopped him before he could get any further. "Hey, I'm sorry about what happened down there." You apologized to him. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything."

Joel just turns around and gives you a small smirk. "Oh, darlin', I'm far from uncomfortable. I'm actually flattered...more than flattered as a matter of fact." He winks at you before departing down the hallway, leaving you shocked.

You were somewhat relieved that Joel wasn't disgusted by you, but it still didn't help with your embarrassment as much as you hoped it would.

You scanned the room, taking in the room that you were going to be spending your weekend sleeping in. The walls were painted a light gray. There was a queen-sized bed that looked really comfortable and had bedside tables on each side as well as a TV, which was mounted onto the wall opposite the bed. There was a door that led to a balcony. You could see an overview of the calm lake and the tall trees. It was a beautiful view.

...

It's been a while since you went downstairs with everyone. You were still so embarrassed by the incident this morning that you decided to spend most of your time scrolling through social media and catching up with your college friends. The only time you came out of the room was to go to the bathroom.

You eventually rolled out of bed and worked up the courage to join everyone.

After changing your clothes that you had on earlier and putting on your swim suit, you slipped on your oversized shirt, put on some waterproof mascara, and put on some lip gloss.

You made sure to grab your sunglasses, put on your flip-flops, and jogged down the steps.

Once you got down there, you realized that Maria was in the kitchen. You headed towards her, quickly greeting her. "Hi, Maria," You say while positioning yourself behind the chairs on the island. She was gathering something that she needed to put outside.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Maria happily greets you back with a smile as she turns her attention to you. "How're you feeling?" She asked you gingerly as she looked at you with sympathy. Her goal wasn't to embarrass you; she truly wanted to know if you were okay after earlier.

You felt yourself begin to get flustered. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." You sheepishly replied. You avoided her eyes, beginning to feel awkward.

"Of course. They're out in the back; you should join them." She points to the sliding door. You just nodded your head and made your way to the door. Before you went out there, you stood there looking outside. You could see Joel's tall figure standing over the grill as he flipped the meat and sipped on his beer.

You felt yourself getting nervous just looking at him.

You then looked and saw your dad helping Joel take the food off the grill and start to place it on the table. Meanwhile, Sarah and Tommy sat at the table, talking to each other. Whatever Tommy had said made them let out loud laughs, causing Joel quickly turned around, let out a chuckle, and shook his head. He then went back to putting things on the rest of the food on the serving platter.

His smile is so gorgeous, it almost takes your breath away.

"Are you going out, sweetheart?" Maria asked behind you, startling you. You had forgotten that she was still here.

You turned to her as you began to stammer over your words and realized that her hands were full with plasticware and plates. "Do you need me to help you take those?" You asked her without even answering her question.

"I do actually," She just looked at you with a questionable look before speaking up again. "Can you just grab the forks and spoons from the top and place them on the table out there, please?" She asked. You grabbed the utensils before turning back around and opening the door.

They didn't notice you at first until Sarah caught sight of you and loudly called out your name as you got closer, causing Joel to look over at you as he closed the grill's top.

"Sarah!" You exclaimed dramatically. Once you reached the table, you sat the plasticware down and went over to sit next to her.

You noticed that her hair was wet and that she was wrapped in a towel. "What've you been up to, girlfriend?" You asked her as you sat down in the seat.

"Nothing much; I just took a quick dip in the lake, and now I am starving," Sarah whined out as she looked over at her dad, who was coming over with the food.

You can hear the sound of Joel's heavy feet approaching behind you and stopping at the free seat at the end of the table, which was next to you. He first put the food in the middle of the table, then plopped himself down. We all began to put things on our plates and begin eating.

Tommy grumbled something about starving, causing Sarah to make a joke about how he was always starving. In reply, Tommy stuck his tongue out at the young girl in a teasing manner.

As Joel ate, he was manspreading under the table. You could feel his hairy, bare leg graze against yours, making you move your leg away. Joel wiped his mouth with the napkin, took a sip of his beer, and looked at you with a blank stare, not saying anything.

You decided to speak up and compliment him on the food. "Joel, this is really good," You smile. Everyone hummed in agreement as they ate.

"Why thank you, darlin'?" Joel says, going back to eating.

...

After eating, we all sat there with our tummies full as we sat around talking about whatever came to mind. That was until Sarah ran into the house without saying a word.

"Oh goodness, that girl." He sat back as he watched his daughter running around the house through the sliding door before running back outside with a box of Uno cards.

"Who wants to play?" She asked the whole table as she ran to her seat and plopped down.

We all agreed. She began to shuffle the cards, dealt them out to everyone, and then set up the game. It first started with you, Joel, Maria, Tommy, then your dad, and lastly Sarah.

Sarah was the first one to get Uno, even though she had the most cards at one point. We all accused her of cheating, which she was quick to deny. No one at the table believed her, especially Tommy and Maria. She just rolled her eyes and helped your dad while he was stuck figuring out which cards to play next.

While the two silently argued about which card was the best, you looked over at Joel and saw that all his cards were showing. You looked around and noticed that no one was paying attention to his cards. Tommy and Maria were sitting there watching your dad and Sarah.

"You're bleedin', Joel," you whisper to him as you point to his card. His face scrunched up with confusion as to what you meant. He looked down at himself and saw no blood.

"What, sugar? I ain't bleedin' anywhere," He said as he tried to recall if he had maybe scraped himself anywhere, but it wasn't coming to him. You couldn't help, but laugh at his confusion.

"It means your cards are showing, Joel." You giggled at him as he chuckled a bit and put his cards up so that he wasn't "bleeding" anymore.

"That's so stupid, who taught you that?" You just shrugged your shoulders at his question and looked back over to see if your dad had finally picked up his card yet.

"Oh my gosh, this isn't rocket science, dad! Just pick a card already!" You exclaimed it, causing everyone to laugh.

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!" Your dad waved you off as he went back to silently arguing with Sarah about which card to choose.

The game got drawn out longer than it was supposed to because every other minute someone (usually Tommy) would start arguing about another person cheating. And in the end, Tommy lost the game.

We put the cards away as everyone except for Maria decided to hang out by the dock and take a swim. She said something about having to get on the phone with a client of hers, but she would come join us when she was done and would bring popsicles.

You and Sarah walked in front of your dad, Joel, and Tommy until you yelled out, "Beat you there!" to Sarah as you both haphazardly ran down the steps to get to the dock.

"You girls, be careful down those stairs now! Don't want y'all gettin' hurt," Joel yells out from behind. The two of you don't respond or slow down; you just keep giggling and running. Joel had to suppress a smile from appearing on his face. It brought him joy to hear how much fun Sarah was having with you.

Once you make it to the dock, Sarah flings off her towel and jumps into the lake with a squiel before she goes under water and floates back up. You quickly kick off your flip flops, throw your sunglasses down, and take off your shirt. Unlike Sarah, you didn't jump into the water, you sat down on the dock and scooched into the water.

Oh, come on! You should've jumped in!" She says this to you as she splashes you with water. You splashed her back.

"I'm too afraid, Sar-bear!" You yelled out to her, and she gasped. The men appeared from the concrete steps just as she did so. Joel dropped the towels in his arms before walking over in front of us, while your dad and Tommy moved to the other side of the dock with their beers and their folding chairs.

"Dad, can you believe that she's too afraid to jump into the water?" Sarah yells out to her dad.

He looked down at you from the dock with his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Really? It's not that scary, sweetheart," He tells you.

"Then how about you get in, Joel?" You say to him without even thinking.

"Yeah, come on, dad. Get in and show her how it's done!" Sarah yells out as she encourages her dad to get in.

You watched Joel as he took off his shoes and shirt, all while keeping his eyes on you. You couldn't help but suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip when he pulled off his shirt. You got a glimpse of his shirtless chest. Joel wasn't the most muscular man, but whatever his job was, it kept him fit, and you loved it. Your eyes quickly scanned over his neck, then his broad shoulders.

Those damn shoulders of his. You wished you could hold onto them as you rode on his co-

Your thoughts were abruptly shattered when Joel took a big leap into the lake, causing a splash of water to hit your face and go up your nose. You tried to make an attempt at turning your head, but it was too late. You coughed as you tried to clear the water from your lungs. As you do so, Joel comes up from beneath the water.

He gasped as he allowed the air back into his lungs and used his big hands to wipe his face. Once he noticed that you were coughing, he quickly swam over to you with a look of concern.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked you as you let out one last cough and nodded your head. He brought his hand up to stroke the side of your head and gave you this tender look before pulling away when he noticed that Sarah was coming over.

If it were just you and Joel on the lake, he would've probably pulled you into his body and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

Even though he had just gotten into the lake, Joel decided to get out before he did something that he would regret.

"Alright, girls. I'm gonna get out now." He says more to Sarah than to you. Once again, you just nodded your head at him. You knew that if you spoke, you'd embarrass yourself again.

"Wha-Dad! You literally just got in." She tries to convince him, but he just shook his head and grabbed onto the rails. He pulls himself up with a grunt and walks onto the dock.

"I'll get back in in a little bit." He dismissed her as he went to get a towel.

Sarah began to say something to you as she swam around you, but you were too focused on Joel to listen to what she was saying. She was too busy talking to notice that you weren't listening. Your attention was stuck on Joel, and his wet shorts stuck to his surprisingly nice ass. He then turns around as he dries off. Your eyes drifted down and widening when you saw his bulge. You were taken aback by the sight.

Oh my god, you thought to yourself.

You looked back up at his face to realize that Joel was already staring at you and smirking while he wrapped the towl around his waist.

Oh fuck!

He obviously saw you staring at his cock because he was fucking smirking.

Joel walked over to have a seat with his brother and your dad. You diverted your attention back to Sarah, acting as if you knew what she was talking about. You just nodded your head a couple of times, and she believed it, but again, your mind drifted.

You were thinking about her dad; snap out of it for Christ's sake.

For the rest of your time at the lake, you refused to look at Joel. And just as promised, Maria finally joined you all about an hour later with the popsicles she said she would bring. Once we ate them, Maria convinced the other adults to have a swim in the lake, to which they all agreed after some groans and pressure from her and Sarah.

...

After spending most of the afternoon outside, everyone went off to do their own thing. Sarah decided to take a shower and then go to sleep while your dad, Tommy, and Maria opted to go out to a bar that a local had told them about, and Joel refused to go out tonight because he said that he was beat from the lake. As for you, you took a quick shower and decided to watch the sunset on the balcony that was connected to your room and smoke.

Before slipping onto the balcony, you grabbed a preroll and a lighter from the pouch, your headphones, and a water bottle from the bed.

When you first got here, you didn't notice that there was a door connected to the balcony that led to Joel's room. However, the sheer curtains were closed, so you could only assume that he was asleep, meaning it was safe for you to smoke without him seeing you. You sat down on the lounge chair, put your headphones on, turned on some music, and began your session.

After two hits of the preroll, you felt the effects of the weed. Your body began to relax, and your eyelids felt slightly heavy. As you continued smoking, you couldn't escape the thought of Joel. You know that he is your dad's friend, and you would never think to go after him, but you have to admit that he is an attractive older man. Just your type.

You barely spoke to him throughout the couple of hours you had been there, yet you could tell the type of man he was. He is very reserved, doesn't speak unless spoken to, and likes to observe. Joel is respectful, but he didn't take shit from anyone. It was very visible that he was protective of not only Sarah but also Tommy.

Everything about him drew you in more and more.

With a few more hits of your preroll, you see a figure standing in the corner of your eye just a few feet away from you, causing you to quickly pull off your headphones and flick the preroll from your fingers and off the balcony. You look over to see Joel watching you with his eyebrows frowned and his hands on his hips. Your eyes widen with shock.

"Shit! I mean, hey, Joel..." You smile up at him awkwardly, trying to seem as sober as possible. "What are you doing out here?" You asked him in a sickly sweet voice. He continues to stare at you before answering.

"I just came out here to check on you. Heard you out here, so I decided to see what you were up to." Joel grumbles as he switches his weight to his other foot.

You prayed that Joel didn't know you were out here smoking weed; your dad would kill you if he heard about you doing this. Little did you know that your attempt would be a complete failure. As soon as Joel walked outside, he could smell the smoke and aroma of weed. He could also see your bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, yknow, nothing much really, just out here enjoying the view and listening to music!" You say this while waving your hand, gesturing to the view in front of both of you. You visibly cringe after this sentence because, even though it was the truth, it wasn't the full truth. He seemed to buy it, so you relaxed a bit.

"Mm, you enjoyed yourself today?" he asked.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun today. Sarah definitely made it fun for me, she's amazing." You admitted to him, and it was true. His daughter was truly a joy to be around.

"Yeah," He laughs out as he looks out at the sunset, his handsome smile threatening to appear on his face. "She's amazing, for sure." He whispers. You can't help but smile at his words. It was refreshing to see that there was someone who was able to crack his hard exterior.

A silence falls over the two of you before he speaks up again. "Y'know, when we were walking back to the car after the lake, she talked about you the whole time. I couldn't shut up about how much cooler you are than Tommy and me." He scoffs as he rolls his eyes playfully and folds his arms to his chest. His confession made you laugh so hard that you couldn't stop, which caused him to laugh as well.

"I mean, she isn't wrong." You teasingly say it to him, causing him to shake his head.

"Yeah-fuckin'-right, darlin'. I can be cool, too."

"Mmhmm.." You reply back to him as you turn your head to look back at the view. However, Joel's eyes remained on you, but you didn't mind too much.

Once again, silence fell over you two. You wanted to look back at Joel, but you knew that if you looked at him in the eyes, your heart would beat out of your chest.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Joel?" You asked him without looking at him.

"What?" Joel asked.

Was he that engrossed in my face that he wasn't even paying attention, or were you not loud enough?

You suppress your laugh as you turn your head to look at him again. "I asked if you enjoyed yourself today." He quickly snaps out of his trance and looks away.

"Oh, yeah, it was enjoyable for the most part, sweetie," Joel sighs out. You said nothing else after this.

You didn't realize it until now, but you were starting to grow tired from the weed. You also wanted a snack.

"Well, I'm going to head back in, maybe fall asleep to a movie or something." You tell him as you grab your belongings, get up from the chair, and walk to the door.

"Alright," He says as he watches every step you take. "And one last thing, darlin'," You stop with your hand on the doorknob and look up at Joel as you wait to hear what he has to say. With a mix of your high and the nervousness you were feeling because of Joel, your heart was pounding out of your chest at this point.

"You don't gotta lie to me, sweet girl. You know that, right?" He says lowly as he motioned to his eyes.

Fuck!

Your body tenses up, and you freeze. You decided to play dumb, even though you were caught. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Joel," You say as you let out a nervous laugh. Your eyes shifted to the ground, avoiding eye contact with Joel like a guilty puppy.

"Oh, no need to play stupid with me, sweet girl; I won't tell your daddy." Something about the way he said these words made you want him so bad; it was almost like he was teasing you.

You felt your walls crumbling, no longer feeling the need to lie to him. "You swear, Joel?" You asked him as you looked at him with pleading eyes.

Joel wished that you would look at him with those pretty eyes while you were on your knees, pleading and begging for him to feed you his cock. In all honesty, he'd give you the world if you asked for it with that look. You made Joel feel something he hasn't felt for a woman in years, and he was willing to do just about anything to have you. However, he could tell you weren't ready for that yet, but he knew in due time he'd have you.

"You have my word, darlin'," He nods his head. "Just don't lie to me again," Joel tells you as he points a finger.

You frantically nod your head in agreement as you bite your lip. "I won't do it again, Joel."

All Joel could think about was how obedient you are, so eager to please him and do as he says. He could feel his cock getting hard in his shorts as he looked at your bare thighs and had these thoughts. Not once did you realize that Joel was checking you out.

Oh, how badly Joel wanted to grab your chin and kiss those lips of yours. He kept reminding himself that he needed to be patient.

"Good." He says before speaking up again. "You should go inside, darlin', maybe get some rest." Joel insisted as he made his way to the door and gave you one last look before walking inside, leaving you outside by yourself.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment as you think about your interaction with Joel. You weren't sure if it was just you thinking too much into the interaction, but you felt like there was some sexual tension between you and Joel.

Any time you're around him, nervousness takes over, and a sense of yearning aches deep in your bones.

You needed him badly.

"Don't," You say to yourself. "Don't fucking think about it." You say it lowly as you try to shake the thoughts out of your head.

Joel is off limits; he's your dad's best friend.

You realized how crazy you must look standing at the door thinking about Joel, so you went inside.

Once you entered the room, you noticed that it was a little too warm in there for your liking, so you decided to leave the balcony door cracked to get some fresh air.

You put your things away, got into bed, and watched a movie on the TV across the room.

...

You weren't sure when you fell asleep, but you did during the movie without even realizing it. You felt very discombobulated, so you sat in the dark for a few minutes. Your clothes felt disgusting on your body as you sweated through them, and your throat was dry.

You quickly got out of bed, slipped off your clothes, got back into bed, and took a sip of the water bottle that lay next to you. During this, you got a glimpse of the digital clock that sat on the bedside table. It read 12:48.

The house was quiet. You were sure that Maria, Tommy, and your dad were back from the bar by now and asleep. Sarah and Joel were probably sleeping as well.

You laid back down on the bed, pushing away the uncomfortable blanket, leaving your body bare. You should have gotten up to close the door because if Joel were to come to your balcony door, he'd surely get a glimpse of your naked body. However, you were still sleepy and a little high, so you lacked the motivation to get up.

It really didn't matter anyway; he's probably still sleeping.

You had laid restless in the bed, constantly flipping the pillows to get the cool side and changing positions, but you still couldn't sleep. You decided to lay on your stomach; it helped you fall asleep sometimes.

You knew one thing that would definitely make you fall asleep, but with a particular someone lingering in your thoughts, it felt wrong. It is completely wrong to have these thoughts about him.

He's way too old for you, and he's your dad's best friend.

Though you tried your best to resist these thoughts, you couldn't help yourself.

Fuck it, it's not like I'm gonna actually fuck him, you think to yourself.

You were suddenly taken back to earlier, when you first laid eyes on him. Those eyes and the curve of his nose. You wanted nothing more than to feel his beautiful nose rub against your clit while he ate you out.

Or when he shook your hands and you felt those thick, rough fingers against your smooth hands.

You were sure that Joel knew how to use them very well.

Subconsciously, your hips had bucked into the bed, trying to get friction onto your clit causing the headboard to hit against the wall ever-so-slightly.

"Shit!" You cursed out loud, hoping that Joel didn't hear. Your heart was pounding at the thought of being caught by him, but your pussy dripped with your wetness.

You waited a couple seconds until you took your hand from underneath the pillow and slowly moved it between the bed and your body, allowing your finger tips to graze against your pussy. You couldn't help but whimper at the feeling. Your arousal ran down your fingers, to your knuckles, and onto the bed.

What you didn't know was that Joel wasn't even in his room; he was sitting out on the balcony. He had been sitting out there for about an hour or so because he couldn't sleep, not with you on his mind, so he decided to sit out there and bore himself to death until he got some sleep. When he first came outside, he checked on you and saw that you were knocked out. The room was dark, and the only thing that brought some light to the room was the bright moonlight reflecting over the lake.

As Joel got up to check on you one last time before he went back to his room, he heard you let out a whimper. He slowly walked to your balcony door so that he wouldn't scare you in case you were having a nightmare, but that wasn't the case at all. Again, Joel heard you let out another noise.

First, you sharply gasped, then moaned out, "Oh, Fuck!"

Joel became more intrigued with whatever was going on in your room because it became very apparent that you weren't having a nightmare. In fact, it didn't even sound like you were sleeping anymore.

Like a thief in the night, Joel peered through the door that was half open. What he saw before him could've brought him to his knees.

You were lying down on your stomach, fully naked on the bed. He noticed that with your right hand, you were touching yourself. Joel wasn't hard before, but he's definitely hard now. He felt as his cock strained against the fabric of his shorts.

Joel knew it was wrong to watch you masturbate without knowing, but he couldn't take his eyes off of you. It had been nearly two years since the last time he had been sexually active, and quite honestly, it was catching up to him at that very moment. He had been so busy with everything in his life that sex was the last thing on his mind until now.

As Joel watched you hump your hips into your fingers, you were imagining a shirtless Joel sat up on the bed, with you sitting in between his legs. Your legs would be wide open, propped up over his, as you allowed his calloused middle and ring finger to collect your arousal from between your folder and rub it into your clit. With his deep Texas accent, he would be whispering into your ear about how much of a good girl you are and how wet you were for him. Your head would be laid on his sexy, broad shoulders as your eyes rolled with pleasure. You imagined that as he played with your clit, his other hand would touch your breast and quickly tweak your nipples as they continued going up and firmly wrapping around your neck.

You were so caught up in your thoughts and pleasure that you hadn't realized that you were moaning out Joel's name.

"J-Joel, please," You quivered out quietly enough so that you weren't too loud, but loud enough for Joel to hear. "I'll be good, p-please, daddy." You followed up.

Even though you thought that Joel was in the next room over (which he wasn't) and there were other people in the house, you still continued to touch yourself as the headboard faintly knocked against the wall.

Yet you were so blissfully unaware of it all. So unaware of the fact that Joel was standing right outside the door, watching you rubbing yourself completely nude, and unaware that Joel had pulled his cock out while he watched and listened to you.

Joel didn't care that what he was doing was wrong. He didn't care that watching you, this freshly 21-year-old, masturbate without your knowledge was bad.

The sounds of your panting, moans, and dirty talk made him want to walk right into the room and give you the pleasure you needed.

Joel has always been a selfish lover when it came to the bedroom; he liked to be the one who was dominant and always took control. He could tell you needed someone like him to fulfill your desires—not some foolish 20-something year old, but a real man.

As you continued to grind against your fingers, Joel saw how your ass moved back and forth. He wanted to spank you for being such a naughty girl. Touching yourself without asking for his permission. He would remind you that only slutty, bad girls did that.

He jerked his cock at the same speed as your hips moved. "Oh my god, daddy!" You moaned into the pillow, causing it to be muffled. The thrusting of your hips had sped up. You were on the cusp of cumming, but that changed when you suddenly pulled your hands from between your legs and got up to change positions.

You were now lying on your back with your legs bent up to your chest as far as they could go. Using the hand you just used to grind up against, you bring your middle and ring fingers to your mouth. You began to suckle on them intensely, pretending they were Joel's fingers. You could taste yourself as you did so.

A minute later, you pop your fingers out of your mouth and bring them down to your pussy. As you sink your fingers inside yourself, you can feel the wetness, allowing you to slip deeper into your tight hole. You squirmed as you felt a little discomfort due to your fingers. You decided to slowly thrust your fingers in and out, allowing yourself to get used to the feeling. With your free hand, you brought it up to your mouth to muffle your soft whines.

Oh, my baby, she can barely take her own fingers, Joel thought as he watched you.

To Joel's surprise, you still didn't see him standing by the door, hastily jerking himself off at the sight of you. It wasn't like he was being discreet about it either. He was almost fully through the door at that point. Your eyes were closed as you fingered yourself.

Finally, you were able to adjust to your fingers. As you picked up the speed, Joel could hear the wet, slick sounds coming from your pussy all the way across the room. Hearing this only heightens the pleasure for him.

"Joel, I'm-oh my god-I'm gonna cum!" You moaned lowly.

Joel wanted to be the one to make you cry, but he knew he couldn't at that moment.

Your messy wetness had allowed your fingers to go deeper inside, causing you a certain spot. Your legs shuddered as your finger tips grazed the spot. In a 'come here' motion, you continued to hit the spot over and over again. "Fuck! That's it, baby. Keep going just like that." You purred out.

Joel convulsed at the way you said these words. He was ready to cum at any moment, but he wanted to cum with you.

With his hand still rapidly moving up and down his length, he finally heard your release.

"Yes! I'm cumming all over your fingers, Joel!" You moaned a little louder this time. Joel could hear you breathing hard as you continued to ramble about how good it felt.

Instantly, Joel was cumming. He withheld his groans and grunts as the hot cum hit the palm of his other hand. Instead, he was breathing hard through his nose, hoping to God that you couldn't hear him.

Finally, your orgasm began to die down. "Oh my god," You sighed out blissfully, as you pulled your finger from your pussy. Your legs moved from your chest and you dropped down on the bed. You were still trying to catch your breath. With his mind still cloudy from cumming so hard, when Joel saw you move your legs, he thought that you were going to get off the bed, causing him to panic and move away from the door so that you couldn't see him.

You could feel the cum webbing between your two fingers. You decided that you wanted a look, so you opened your eyes and brought your hand close to your face. You could see the bright moonlight illuminate your cum. You'd never come so hard. Not with any of your hookups, let alone when you masturbated.

You felt spent after that, but you needed to get up to clean yourself off. You decided to rest your eyes a bit before getting up, but without even realizing it, you had dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

Less than five minutes later, Joel heard light snores coming from your room, so he decided that it was safe to look again. You were dead to the world. Joel saw your limp hand hanging off the bed—the same one you had used to fuck yourself with. He could see the wetness gleaming on your fingers. He wanted to come over them and suck your cum off of your fingers, but he stopped himself.

The post-nut clarity had hit Joel, and he realized that he must've looked like a creep with his cock out while he watched you sleep. So he closed your balcony door and headed back into the house to wash the cum from his hands.

Joel knew that he would have you one day; it didn't matter how long it took for him to get you. He would get you right where he wanted you eventually.

...

You woke up feeling like a brand new person that morning. Your limbs felt loose, and you felt like you could conquer the world.

You could feel the sun on your naked body as you rose out of bed to stretch. The sounds of people moving around let you know that everyone was awake.

You suddenly realized that the balcony door was now closed. You don't remember getting up to clean yourself, and you definitely don't remember ever getting up to close the door.

Realization had hit you hard, and your heart dropped.

Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

There was no way anyone could have come into your room because you had locked the bedroom door. However, Joel had access to the shared balcony.

He was the only one who could've closed that door.

Whatever, you were going to enjoy yourself this weekend and act like nothing happened.

=============================================

A/N: I had a lot of trouble writing this for some reason, but next one is going to be a lot better. I got so much planned already hehe

[pedrosman]

Would love to see oberyn, dieter, Frankie and Marcus stories! Especially if they are tops against a bottom reader

AN- YES YES YES YES! here is a pretty long (sorry i got carried away) one shot fic

Do you want to have sex with me?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo (the bubble) x Male!Reader

Word count: 4000 ish

Summary: you work on set as an assistant cinematographer, you have been noticing Dieter looking at you weird all day.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MDNI!, Dieter Bravo, fic takes place during the bubble, you are working on set, Age Gap! P in A! Unprotected, Drug use! Top! Dieter Bravo, bot! Reader, small use of y/n

Feel free to give me feedback and tips, this is my first full fic. Also very open to submission, muh luh muh only lol

I am so fucking done with this film. The directors on Cliff Beasts Six, the newest instalment of the oh-so-amazing “Cliff Beasts” franchise, aren’t interested in anything but making a cheque, and it shows. Neither the actors nor anyone on set are engaged, and there is a palpable sense of boredom between everyone.

I, y/n, aged 19, applied for this position as an assistant cinematographer to get out of my shitty apartment and finally attempt to gain some experience in the film industry. How insightful it has been. Days of sitting by as the stuck-up actors on Cliff Beasts 6 (seriously 6??) argue over a script that has probably (definitely) been made through Chatgpt. It is amusing to watch though, watching how they bicker over the delivery of a single line, whilst everyone else just stands and watches idly. How invigorating. What I wouldn't give to just tell them all to shut the fuck-

“Hey! Runner! What the fuck are you doing standing on set? We're about to shoot!”

Oh shit, I’ve fucking done it. Now these fucking A-listers are staring at me like I’ve shot their half-dead Bichon Frise, but I still haven’t moved an inch.

“What the fuck is your problem? MOVE!” the voice calls out again.

“Uh, shit... My bad” I mumble as I stumble over the fake ground onto the warehouse floor. “That was great y/n, real smooth” I think as I curse under my breath towards the hostility of the director who has been doing nothing but sit on his ass and attempt to blow 0’s with his oversized vape. But seriously, I was barely on set, not even within proximity to the actors, or where the camera was supposed to run through. I slink towards the wall, enshadowed by the stacks upon stacks of props of dinosaur eggs, embarrassment manifesting onto my face in a burning shade of scarlet. With my head mow staring so intently at the scratch marks of the floor, avoiding the gaze of every single person on Earth, I run a shaky hand through my outgrown and bleach-damaged hair. I want to disappear right now.

I stay in the shadows silently, still not daring to look up at the scene the actors now play through. Instead, I listen to their half-assed attempts of acting fearful of the blue blob that will be the mother dinosaur to all the eggs I hide behind. Seriously, this film is genuinely a game of connect-the-dots on stereotypical children's interests. It’s humourable, how absurd they sound, screaming about some random nonsensical bullshit with a monotone seriousness. Looking up, I watch the flurry of movement on set, studying how the camera pans from the actors to the blue wall behind them. It’s better to focus on the elements I came here to study, rather than the shitshow that is the film. Whilst I stare, I catch a glimpse of a man in a red jacket looking my way, hidden behind the rocks and eggs. Turning my attention towards him, I notice his clenched jaw and deadpan focus on me.

“Shit, my fuckup on set must have really pissed him off” I mutter under my breath whilst my eyes stay locked onto him. We stay like that for a few seconds, mixed emotions manifesting on my face, whilst he just stares. Lifting my eyes slightly, we make eye contact, prompting a wave of realisation to wash over his face, and he promptly turns his direction back to discussions on the next scene. It makes sense, his change in demeanour. If I was a fucking celebrity, the last thing I would want is a scandal of workplace abuse blown out of proportion.

___________

They’ve wrapped up today’s shooting. Thank God. The rest of the shoot was relatively uneventful, I was only asked to help set up a few camera scenes whilst the actors took their lunch break. However, that actor in the red jacket kept on looking my way, but only for a fleeting few seconds each time. It was bizarre really, how many times I swear I caught him staring: between scenes, during script conversations (arguments really), whenever the actors left the set. It was comical how I would see his head turn away from my direction in parallel to whenever I looked in his. What the fuck is his problem? Anyways. Hiding my glee, I turn away from the remaining crew on set, embarking back to the hotel where the cast and crew were staying. I put earphones in as I walk, putting “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depache Mode on blast and loop (tlou reference), watching the sky warp and twist with clouds straight out of Junji Ito. As I walk, I picture how much I would change about the godforsaken cash grab of a film: the story, the camera angles, the compositions, the-

“Hey.” A breathless voice behind me whispers, barely audible over the drums blaring into my ears. Turning, I immediately freeze, in the realisation that this was the red jacket man, the one with the fucking lead paint stare. What the fuck does he want?

“Oh! Hey. Look man, if you’re pissed that I was standing on set, I genuinely didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to look like a dick. I’m really sor-”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks.

“What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He repeats, louder.

“I heard you the first time,” I reply, stunned, eyes blinking at him widely.

“Oh, well do you?” He questions, voice full of intent.

“Uhh”, what the fuck do I say? Is he fucking high?

“Yes? That's amazing, now?” he follows, oblivious to my stunned face. He grips my hand tight, and begins to pull me towards the hotel. More for his welfare, I allow him to. If he is high, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have to deal with an overdose, pushing back the shooting back date further.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Dieter Bravo, but you probably already know that. You know, Oscar Winner?” He asks excitedly, almost desperately.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He repeats, obviously unfocused on me, but rather the journey ahead, which he slinks across, acting like a fucking ninja.

“Oh, y/n”. I reply flatly, still stunned by his blunt and forward character.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Please let me fuck you?” He grumbles, eyes now locked onto mine, searching, savouring me.

“Sorry, but are you high?” I question, anxiety creeping up from my stomach. I seriously don’t want this to come off badly. God knows what he can do to my career, with the amount of money and “power”  that he holds.

“Oh! Just some coke, do you want some? I’ve got a fat stash back in my room, you’ll just have to ignore the paintings.

What do I say? First, he wants to fuck me, and now he’s offering me cocaine?

“Ummm, I’m okay actually,” I reply, eyes glued to his firm grip on my hand, leading me through the hotel like a stealth mission, stopping behind couches and desks, pulling me under them to hide from various staff and other residents. I swear we crept past Karen Gillan at one point. We continue this charade of playing ninjas until we stop at a door, undoubtedly his room’s.

“Wait, do you seriously want to fuck me?” I start, a chuckle bubbling underneath my voice. “I mean, you’re a fucking A-lister and you’re high off coke right now”. This entire situation is so absurd I cannot.

“You’re an angel y/n, and I’m so pent up right now, I feel like an animal.” He replies, voice full of truth. And he isn’t wrong at all. On our journey, I had noticed him grabbing his crotch a few more times than necessary, and adjusting it quite a lot too. Truthfully, it did make me question whether or not I would submit to his desperate plea for pleasure.

“Fuck.”

I genuinely think he wants to fuck me.

“Fine. Okay. I think we can do this.” There. I said it. Listening to my own voice consent to having sex with Dieter fucking Bravo generates a wave of excited shivers across my body, mirroring the relieved smile that sprawls across his face.

“Let’s have some fun.”

___________

Inside his room, it is clear to see that the restrictions in the bubble have taken a toll on him. Scattered across the walls there are various paintings depicting almost hellish figures, staring down at us. As I study them, Dieter dims the lights and begins to undress, changing into nothing but a dressing gown. Anticipation creeps across my body, giving my head a slight buzz. Turning to me, Dieter’s chest becomes visible: scattered lightly with hair, but enough to give them a fuzzy look and feel. His thighs also peek out nicely, thick and inviting. Jesus Christ, why did the costume department dress him so ugly? This scruffy, out-of-bed look is much more attractive, and the colour of his gown suits him much better than the neon of his Character’s jacket. As I force my eyes to peel away from his body, I notice him staring directly at me. In exactly the same way as earlier today. Was that his flirting? Or dropping hints? I thought he wanted to kill me, but I guess he just wanted me. Instead of hatred, his eyes are filled with lust and animalistic intent, he wants me like a fucking drug.

“So-” I begin, stopped by his hand suddenly covering my mouth. His proximity engulfs me with his scent: musky, woody, sweaty and also quite sweet, almost floral. His dick has definitely been leaking for a while. Stepping even closer, our chests almost touching, he stares down at me, eyes burning into my own. Slowly, he removes his hand off my mouth and grabs my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. We stay in silence like this for a few seconds, both reading each other's faces, enveloped in the erotic tension.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And with that, the tension breaks, cascading us in a downpour of lust and need. Our bodies clash, pushing and pulling each other closer, our hips grinding as we kiss. His lips are chapped, but still soft, scratching over mine satisfyingly. His tongue reaches into my mouth while mine battles its way into his, both attempting to overcome the other. They connect and move over each other slickly, electrifying my body and increasing my newfound desire for Dieter. As we make out, our faces push closer and closer, his beard scruff dancing over my skin, their path leaving an electrifying buzz. I smile as we kiss, intoxicated by his desire, his desperation for sex. As we kiss, I can feel his growing boner press against my hip, shrouded by his gown that sports quite a large tent. He groans against me, a guttural sound that reverberates in my mouth. I push into that feeling further, watching him become completely engrossed in our French kiss. His hands roam freely, moving away from my face and down my arms, and stopping with our fingers interlocked. Suddenly, he pushes me down onto his bed, dipping his head down to not break our kiss. Seemingly unwillingly, our mouths depart and he stands above me.

His gown is barely holding in his package, The ribbon basically untied, but keeping his manhood hidden. It is very evident that he intends to give a show, which I think is quite comical. Of course, the fucking celebrity actor would want to take control of this scene and make me savour his big reveal.

Teasingly, he starts by grabbing my hand and trailing it down his chest. I take the liberty of pinching his nipples lightly, evoking an involuntary moan. Then, he pulls my hand down lower, whilst I run my fingers through his chest hair. In the dim lighting, the glow golden, with hints of silver, no doubt a reminder of our age gap. But he doesn’t care, and neither do I. He stops my hand at the knot of the ribbon and lets go.

“If he gets to enjoy this, then so do I” I think, taking my time to admire his treasure trail and the bottom of his stomach. I playfully teeter around the ribbon knot, teasing him as he did me.

“Please.” He speaks with a whisper, eyes full of longing and need. But I can feel him hold himself back, avoiding rushing our moment.

Complying, I swiftly undo the knot, and allow the robe to fall to the sides of his legs.

Fuck.

His cock fell forward towards me with undeniable intent. It definitely reached past seven inches, and under the soft glow, the glossiness of precum over its head was undeniable. A soft gasp emerged from the depths of my throat as I stared, entranced. Dieter’s cock was going to be the death of me.

“Suck it.”

Looking up at Dieter, I could see him shift away from his desperate self towards a more dominant one. He and I both knew that this was going to be intense. His eyes held a fury in them, driven by his need to fuck. It definitely had been a while since he had got any action. I guess that many others he must have asked didn't hear him out at all. The veins in his dick were so defined, throbbing with an urgency. With each throb, a glob of precum spilt out, coating his manhood in a thick, slick lube. Fuck.

Staring up into his eyes, I leant forward and licked his tip. As I did, I watched his entire body shake, an involuntary reaction to how touch-starved he was. A moan emerged from the back of his throat, guttural and low, making my skin form into goosebumps.

I began to lower myself further down his cock, slowly pressing my face into his hair. I could smell the sweat from the day’s work that coated his cock and balls, creating a sweet but heavy aroma that caused me to moan onto his dick. I inhaled sharply, catching every whiff that I could, intoxicated. Still staring into his deep, pleading eyes, I stopped sucking and moved to his balls, placing one into my mouth and sucking teasingly, inhaling his scent. His dick lay over my face with a distinct weight, thrusting into my hair, coating my skin with his precum. Still keeping eye contact, I watched his mouth open and close, gawking and stunned by the pleasure he was experiencing. I swapped between his balls and cock regularly, making sure to never break eye contact, watching Dieter fall further and further into a lust-driven state. Whilst I sucked, I could feel his thighs shaking with ecstasy. Keeping him in my mouth, I wrapped and slithered my tongue up the base and around his head. I revelled in the salty taste of his precum, savouring every drop. I slipped my tongue under his hood, running at the base of his head. This prompted another series of involuntary moans on his behalf, stimulating my own cock to start throbbing through my clothes, desperate for touch.

Without warning, I felt his hands on the back of my head, gripping tightly into my hair. Immediately, he started thrusting into me, fucking my mouth. His thrusts were in quick succession, fueled by excessive desire. He filled my mouth entirely, his taste coating every surface, saliva dripping from the sides of my face and down the base of his cock. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and musk and the sound of his balls slapping onto my jaw whilst he let out desperate pants and groans. His movements were frantic and obsessive, gripping into my hair with a desperate need. His hands were clammy, his fingers locking and slipping around my curls whilst he fucked my face. Tears streamed down my face whilst Dieter abused my mouth, ignoring my gags and moans. My cock was so fucking hard, pressing into my trousers with a desperate need to be touched. Jesus fucking Christ.

His thrusting became more rapid, and his moans increased in volume and speed. He was growling with such animalistic intent, in total heat whilst wrecking my face.

“Ah- fuck- I’m gonna cum baby-”

His seed filled my mouth with a final thrust, letting out a hoarse and guttural succession of moans. We stayed there for a few seconds, his breathing heavy, and his body shuddering above me. His cum was so sweet and thick, forcing me to gulp down loads of mess. Pulling out from my mouth, the rest of his seed leaving him. In a trance, I felt him pushing it over my cheeks and lips, coating me with his sperm. Looking up at him whilst it dripped down to my chin, his eyes full of relief and pleasure.

“Holy Shit.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Ready for more, angel?”

Dieter flopped onto the bed next to me, his breath heavy.

Immediately, he turned towards me, planting his chapped lips onto mine. We kissed passionately, fueled by a connection previously inconceivable. His hands explored my body, tugging up my T-shirt and kneading his hands into my skin. He was rough, dominant and needing. He gripped the bare skin of my back tightly, pulling me closer to him, our bodies pressing and interlocking tightly. Reaching down the back of my trousers, I felt his finger pressing on my hole. He circled his finger around my entrance, pressing slightly, causing a moan to emerge from my lips. Removing his hands from my ass and his mouth from mine, he placed his fingers into my mouth.

“Spit.”

Instinctively, I did. Immediately, He went back to my asshole, inserting his index slowly, causing my back to arch into him. He pressed in and out, loosening my hole slowly. I couldn’t stop moaning into him, pushing myself down further against him. As he finger fucked my hole, he started thrusting bare body against me, grinding his cock across my thigh, dripping precum onto my trousers. Slowly, almost timidly, he reached down my body to my bulge, applying pressure heavily. Holy Shit. I was in ecstasy, in pure bliss and overstimulation. He unbuttoned my trousers desperately, fueled by desire, exposing my boxers to the room. The front was wet with precum, clinging to my member.

Suddenly, he straddled on top of me, pulling down my trousers and boxers to my ankle. Immediately, my cock sprung up to my belly button, leaving a small pool of precum. Removing all my clothes fully, leaving my body exposed to the dim room, he lifted my legs, resting them on his shoulders.

He quickly lubed my hole, pushing his finger deep into me as he did so. It shocked me, engrossing me in a sudden wave of pleasure. Then, positioning his dick, I felt his member push into me slowly, meeting resistance from my hole, straining against his girth.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight”, he grunted, pressing slightly harder. With a satisfying pop, his tip entered, arching my neck back. I looked deep into his eyes, unable to generate sound from the pure ecstasy. Gently, he inserted his deep length inside me, making low cooing noises, soothing my discomfort. Eventually, he was fully inside me, my hole wrapped around his cock. We stayed unmoving, Dieter engrossed with how my ass clung to his dick desperately. Teasingly, I moved my ass slightly, pulling his cock deeper into me, now fully balls deep.

“Oh”, a soft moan escaped his mouth, wrapping around me in the silent room. Soon followed the clear sound of his dick pulling out and pushing back, his balls slapping my cheeks.  Dieter's hands wrapped around mine, pushing me back completely against the bed, and leaned closer, going deeper and stretching my legs higher. Quickly, his thrusts increased, engulfing us in moans and soft-spoken curses towards each other. Wave after wave of pleasure buzzed my head and made my tip throb. His lips met mine and we started kissing, fueled by desire and need. He fucked me mercilessly, stretching my hole wide to fit his girth and length nicely. His breath was heavy into my mouth, followed by growls that made my cock twitch. His beard scratched my face nicely, sending small bursts of pain, heightening my sensitive state.

I could feel my orgasm rising, my cock head getting hot and my cock throbbing. I couldn’t even let out any noise to warn Dieter,  assuddenly I was engulfed in a blinding wave of hot bliss from his onslaught on my prostate. Spurts of cum erupted from my cock, painting out stomachs, tying us together. Yet Dieter didn’t stop, fueled by my pleasure. Instead, his thrusts increased, overstimulating my entire body. I felt his hands move from mine to the back of my head, pushing me to look directly into his eyes. His thrusts were relentless, going deeper each time, stretching my insides into his personal fucktoy. My moans were neverending, creating a chorus with Dieter’s deep growls. Still looking into my eyes, he leant his body onto mine, and began to absolutely abuse my hole. He fucked me like a dog, his eyes seemingly glowing with pure energy and pleasure. Picking up even more speed, I felt his manhood throb, close to coming again.

“Where do you want it,” is all he could ask between heavy breaths, holding back his orgasm with undefined strength.

“In me.”

I felt Dieter erupt in me, his load filling every crevice. It leaked out my asshole, down the base of his member. Pulling out completely, he admired his work, then pushed himself back in, impregnanting me again. We moaned into each other, kissing messily, completely in the moment. He stayed inside me for a few minutes, getting soft as we just laid there, comprehending what we had just done. Pulling out, my hole was a gaping mess, leaking with his seed.

Lying next to me, cum dripping off his cock, his face became plastered with a smile. He scooped up a glob of his cum, mixed it with the pool of mine on my stomach, and brought it to my lips.

“Swallow.” I did.

“Good.”

The world was so silent. Neither of us spoke, our breaths slowing gradually. Turning to him, looking into his eyes, I could tell he was eternally grateful, and I was happy too with being his bitch, even though it was so wrong. But it was so right.

“Can we make this a weekly thing? I asked, desperate for him again.

“Weekly? Nah. Daily?” He replied. He was addicted. To me, to my body, to how our bodies moved in unison, driven by lust and depravation.

A small chuckle emerged from his chest. A hearty laugh, melting my belly into a hot mess. A comfortable laugh, like a warm hug after a shitty day.

I wouldn’t mind getting addicted to Dieter.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Make Me Forget

A/N: song request by my friend Sarah - I know you said you were fine with sfw but that song just doesn't give me sfw vibes 😅😝 hope you like it

Fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain Fake it like you love me, come on, baby, touch me Show me where it hurts this dirty little curse Don't have to be ashamed if you wanna scream my name While I fuck away the pain

Summary: your ex screwed you over and now you need a distraction and Beckman gladly assists you

Warnings: hurt, nsfw, oral (receiving), p in v, age gap, MDNI ⚠️🔞

Characters: Beckman x FReader

P.S. somehow adding the Song doesn't work 😠 but it's called "Fuck Away The Pain by Divide the Day

It was late evening in a dimly lit, somewhat rowdy bar by the docks. The smell of salt and sea mixed with the tang of rum, laughter, and shouts blending into a chaotic melody.

You sat at the counter, shoulders tense and fingers gripping a half-empty glass. Your mind kept replaying that fucking asshole together with that whore and his words - cold, final, cutting deeper than any blade.

You downed the drink, wincing as the alcohol burns, but the ache in your chest remains. You were trying to drown it out, drown him out. But it wasn't working.

Three fucking years and he, he fucked around behind your back with every girl that would open her legs for him.

Damn bastard. How could you be so blind?

Fucking asshole hopefully he gets stabbed in a dark alley.

Piece of shit.

But tonight you were here to forget to let go, to find a distraction. Though the selection in this bar was rather ugh - a man with barely any teeth left, another one that reeked - of hell you didn't want to know what that was and another one looked so green that he would probably pass out before you could get a shot.

You had planned on letting lose have a good time, forget your ex but the clientele here was not helping.

Great.

Well then you had to go over to plan b - get fucking drunk.

But before you could order the next drink a shadow fell over you and a very handsome and attractive man sat down at the counter next to you.

Damn what a hot dilf.

He leaned casually against the counter, cigarette between his lips, gaze sharp but somehow soft when it landed on you. He didn't say anything at first, just ordered a drink, his deep voice resonating through the noise.

When his eyes met yours again, there was something knowing in them, like he’s seen your type of pain before.

"You look like you’re trying to forget something," he remarked, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness. "Or someone."

You felt a mix of irritation and curiosity rise up inside you as you glanced at the man. Of course, this random guy would think he could see through your bullshit, but there was something about him, something about that knowing look, that made you hesitate for a moment before you scoffed and looked back at your glass.

"What’s it to you?" you muttered, more bitterly than you intended. But you didn’t care. You were not here to make friends or to talk.

His lips curled slightly, as if he was amused by your defensive tone, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he just exhaled a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette and turned his attention back to the bartender, casually placing another order.

When his eyes flicked back to yours, they were unreadable, as if he was sizing you up, deciding if you’d be worth his time. "Just wondering if you’d be more fun if you weren’t so angry," he replied, almost in a whisper, yet the words seemed to land heavier than they should. "I get the feeling you're angry at the wrong person."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat, a flicker of surprise breaking through the haze of resentment. How the hell did he know that?

"You have experience with angry women or are you just that damn good at reading people?"

His lips twisted into a smirk, the smoke trailing from his mouth before he replied. "I’ve got my share of experience," he said with a low chuckle. "But mostly... I just know when someone’s in pain. You’re not the first one to try and drown it out with liquor, but that never works for long."

You leaned back against the counter, exhaling through your nose, trying to appear indifferent even as your insides clench. It was true, what he said. You had planned to drink the memory of your ex away.

“I didn’t come here for a fucking therapy session,” you murmured, but you weren't sure if you were talking to him or to yourself.

The man didn't seem phased by your resistance. Instead, he took a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes glinted with an unreadable expression. He let the silence hang for a moment before speaking again, his voice low, almost a challenge.

"Then what did you come here for?" he asked, his gaze lingering on you, a quiet intensity behind it. "Because I doubt it’s just to get wasted."

Before you could say something, the man leaned in slightly, his voice just a touch softer, his cigarette now forgotten in his hand. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the presence that surrounded him making everything else seem irrelevant.

"Maybe we can find a better way for you to forget," he suggested, his words hanging between you like an unspoken offer. "If you’re willing to see how a real man treats a lady" His words caught you off guard, making your stomach tighten in a way you were not used to.

A quick glance at him told you everything you needed to know. The confidence. The quiet, unshakable composure. This man has probably seen it all, the heartbroken women, the angry ones, the ones who want nothing but a temporary release. You weren’t the first to walk into his path, and you were damn sure you wouldn't be the last.

Your fingers tightened around your glass, eyes narrowing slightly. "So what, you think you're the guy to help me forget? To make me feel like a lady?"

His eyes flickered with something darker, something dangerously close to amusement, but there was no hesitation in his voice when he responds.

"I think I’ve got the right kind of distraction you're looking for." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "If you're willing to find out, unless you're too scared of a real man"

Oh holy fuck that man was serious and so fucking irresistibly charming.

Without a word, you stood up, pushing your glass aside and turned to face him fully. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you as you moved a little closer. The buzzing energy in the room seemed to fade, leaving only the steady thrum of your heartbeat and the low hum of his presence in your mind.

"You sure about that? I'm not one for pleasantries but you could at least give me your name" you said, your voice lower than before, but now laced with something else, something that matched the fire you've been holding back.

The man tilted his head slightly, a subtle, knowing smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Call me Beckman and believe me darling I’ve got a lot of ways to make you forget," he said, his voice deep, steady, a silent promise hanging in the air between you two.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a sharp, challenging look. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" you asked, your voice low and almost daring.

His smile widened, a flash of amusement crossing his features, but there was something else there too, something darker, more predatory. He leaned forward, his breath brushing against your ear as he spoke in a voice just above a whisper. "Let me show you."

You didn’t need to say anything. The tension snapped. You took the final step, leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that started slow, testing, but quickly deepened, hunger and frustration melding into something more urgent.

The kiss lingered for a moment, slow but urgent, a perfect mix of heat and control. But as your lips parted the space between you felt even heavier, thick with the tension that neither of you dared to break just yet. Your heart beat faster, and you felt the alcohol in your veins but it didn't dull the intensity in the air.

Beckman pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing over your wrist as he watched you, eyes searching, calculating. He didn’t need to say a word; the look in his eyes already spoke volumes.

You took a deep breath, leaning in just enough to graze his ear with your words. "I want you to fake it like you love me." It was a dare, a challenge, but underneath it, you were screaming inside, wanting to give in to him force you to forget everything. To forget the hurt, the lies, the betrayal. For just a little while, you wanted to pretend that this was all you need, that you were wanted.

"You’re trying to forget," he said, his voice low, almost taunting. "Well we can fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain. just show me where it hurts and I'll make the pain go away while you scream out my name"

The tension in the air became almost unbearable as his words hung there, heavy and inviting. His hand moved to your waist, fingers pressing against the fabric of your clothes, drawing you even closer. His gaze locked onto yours, daring you to dive into this reckless distraction you’ve both been wanting. Your chest rose and fell with the rush of adrenaline and you could feel the heat of his body.

You let your hand move up his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The soft cotton of his shirt did nothing to hide the strength of his body, the way his muscles shifted with every subtle movement. And when you leaned in, lips brushing against his ear, your breath hot against his skin, you couldn’t help but feel that all-consuming desire to be devoured by him.

"Take me there," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the rush of your pulse. "Make me forget it all."

The words seemed to ignite something within him.

Beckman didn’t hesitate. His hands moved with a purpose now, rougher. He pressed his lips to your neck, his kiss searing, and your body shuddered under the heat of it. "Don't worry darling, I’ll give you what he couldn’t."

With a sudden, almost brutal shift, Beckman pulled you into him, his body pressing flush against yours, the heat between you rising. His hands trailed down your spine, his grip firm but never too much, always in control, always testing. And when his lips found yours again, this time, not slow, not soft, no, this time desperate, hungry, as if he knows you’ve already made the choice, as if you’ve already surrendered to whatever he will do.

There was no hesitation left in you now. No shame. Just a fierce, wild need to lose yourself in this moment, to let go of everything that’s been weighing you down.

You pressed into him, your hands exploring the contours of his body, your breath shallow, desperate. He was right. You needed this.

He grabbed your arm and led you into a backroom closing the door behind him shut and pushing you onto a table behind you.

His hands slid beneath your clothes and you gasped, back almost instinctively arching when he brushed over your clothed nipples.

He smirked at your reaction and began to slowly peel off your clothes leaving you only in your underwear before taking a moment to admire you. "He must've been an idiot to leave something like this" Beckman hummed his fingertips tracing along your exposed skin. "But don’t worry when we're done you won't even remeber his name and with me there are no string attached" he said and soon his lips followed the path of his fingertips.

Kissing, licking and nibbling at your neck followed by your cleavage and between your still bra covered breasts down to your belly stopping at the waistline of your panties.

You let out a deep groan when he stopped.

"Someone's a bit eager but i will not keep you waiting - much longer" he teased. His hands were back on you as he took your bra off exposing your breasts and already errect nipples. Before he let his finger brush over them - agonizingly slow and teasing.

You arched your back into his touch and a moan escaped you when his lips found one of your nipples.

"Fuck Beckman," you gasped. You could feel him smile against your skin and suddenly his free hand traced along the inside of your thigh.

"I could keep this up all night, but I think I’ve done enough teasing for one evening," he growled in his deep voice.

And before you could say something more he moved from your breasts down to your waist kissing the tender, sensitive skin there while his hands teased the waistband of your panties before slowly and deliberately pulling them down.

"Beckman please" you moaned as he blew wind down between your legs.

"Please what darling?"

"Please fuck away the pain, erase him from my brain" you almost begged him.

"As you wish" he said before kissing, biting and sucking the skin on your inner thigh inching closer and closer to your core.

You moaned, arched your back and gripped the edge of the wooden table.

When his lips finally made contact with your folds you let out a loud "fuck" instinctively trying to close your legs but he reached up keeping them spread.

His tongue moved slowly, agonizingly slowly, over your folds before he pushed deeper, licking and sucking until you were a moaning and screaming mess.

"Oh hell Beckman I'm gonna......I'm.....I'm gonna cum" you screamed making him pick up the pace licking faster, deeper, his tongue driving you insane, his nose pressing against your clit until you could feel your release.

Oh fucking hell that was......just fucking amazing. But Beckman wasn’t done with you.

"This is how you treat a lady, tell me darling are you ready for more because i want to hear you scream my name so loud you won't remember his anymore" he groaned moving from between your legs up to kiss you, to let you taste yourself.

"Take me further, Beckman. I want to be only yours… I want to scream for you." Your words came out in quick, breathless bursts, each one full of the desire to leave everything behind and lose yourself in him completely.

Beckman just smirked at you before he took your hands gently and guided them to his pants before letting go and moving his own back onto your skin.

Your lips parted slightly as you hastily began unbuckling his pants tugging at it almost desperately making him chuckle. "Such a needy little lady" he teased before helping you pull them down along with his underwear.

You looked at his already errect member biting your lips - nothing compared to your ex. Hell he wasn't even half as manly as Beckman. And at the same time it made you tense a little.

Beckman carefully grabbed one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder while leaning his body closer. Planting kisses from your stomach up to your neck sucking and biting the sensitive skin while aligning himself at you entrance.

"Good girl just take a deep breath" he murmered into your neck one of his hands fondling your breasts the other drawing soothing circles on your inner thigh before he carefully pushed into you making your back arch and a loud moan escape your lips.

"Oh holy fuck" you gasped the feeling nothing compared to your ex.

"You won't even remeber you had an ex once I'm finished with you" Beckman growled as he moved slow, deliberate and so damn intoxicating.

You moaned, you whimpered and you begged him for more.

"Faster, Be-e-eckma-a-an please" you said nails scratching down his back while his lips began kissing a path from your neck to your jawline and finally your lips before picking up the pace, making you moan into it. The hand he had on your thigh began to move down to your clit circling it in the most delicious way.

"Ohhh, Bec I'm no-o-ot gonna la-a-ast any longer" you stammered when he broke the kiss your body on fire, every nerve every fibre electric.

"Cum for me darling" he purred and he didn't have to tell you twice with a loud "Beckman" you reached your high while he rode out his own orgasm following shortly after with a deep primal grunt when he felt you cum around him.

When he slowly pulled out of you he remained hovering over you his forehead resting againt yours smirking charmingly down on you. How could he still look so relaxed while you were already spent.

"Good girl," he said kissing your lips his hands tracing soothing patterns up and down your body. "Are you ready for the next round" he asked with a smug smirk.

And you? You just smiled and nodded.

The night continued with desire, bliss, screams and the sound of skin on skin and your ex was soon forgotten thanks to a very charming and "skilled" Beckman.

[smutcentralx]

Yes sir

SIMON (GHOST) RILEY x FEM READER

MASTERLIST

summary you and ghost never saw eye to eye, your always clashing and you both basically can’t stand each other, but one day you pushed it a to far….

warnings smut, age gap, enemies to lovers if u squint hard enough, oral(f), slight brat taming, slight angst, cunninglingus, squirting, overstimulation

a/n ahh first fic i’m so excited hopefully you guys enjoy it, if u did dont forget request are open! There may be a few typos i missed but i will be editing soon i just really wanted to post this gem :)

Lieutenant Simon Riley…i think it was fair to say he was considered as your rival. You were also a lieutenant but for some reason he liked to treat you as if you were a lower rank and that’s what really gets to you. You always thought he was some controlling misogynistic stereotypical price of shit.

You were thinking of possible ways to avoid him due to your altercation you both got into earlier. He was being a dick trying boss you around making you do 10 laps and as many push ups you could do. He was torturing you and the kicker was that he secretly enjoyed it to.

“Try to squeeze your stomach in more, you planks are lazy”. You gritted your teeth response but still followed orders in response knowing damn well he was smirking under the mask. You’ve started to realize that he doesn’t understand how much he pisses you. It’s either that or he just doesn’t give a shit. His calm nonchalant demeanor really annoyed the hell out of you. and you were reaching your breaking point…slowly.

“I don’t see you doing any planks, would you like demonstrate since you’re such an expert” you gave a fake smile with a sarcastic tone and rolled your eyes. He grunted in response ignoring your tone.

Much to your surprise ghost slowly took off his tight black shirt that was already defining his beautifully toned body. He pulled it over his head from the bottom up and boy was that a sight to see, you were basically drooling forgetting that you disliked him at the moment. You couldn’t lie and not come to terms that he has the hottest body you have ever seen. He was so big to so that didn’t help you.

“I’m flattered love but eyes up here” Ghost smirked knowing damn well about the little affect he has on you. “With the way how talk to me i would’ve never thought you’d beating eating with your eyes like that” he laughed deeply. You looked up embarrassed and your face grew hot when realization hit you hard. Ghost caught you staring at him.

You made up some bullshit since you know you can’t lie yourself out. you cleared your throat awkwardly “listen your an asshole still but i was staring at your scars, like id ever want a piece of you” you laughed a little to hard while taunting him. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“I bet your ugly under that mask too aren’t you” you smirked as you stood up. Ghost let out a deep breathy laugh while he stood up and stepped closer to you so that he was towering over you dripping in dominance. “Quite the opposite love”. You rolled your eyes “yeah okay buddy” You scoffed and you pushed a little more “plus i bet you haven’t even made anyone woman cum grandpa you definitely awful in bed”.

Ghost hums deeply “Who said anything about that, sounds like your just thinking about getting laid” his eyes darkened slightly but you ignored it. “Everyone wants to get laid, i definitely know you don’t simon.

Oh now you’re really pushing it. Ghost doesn’t enjoy being called Simon. He stepped closer to and and snaked his hand in your hair and slightly tugged you head back “don’t call me that again love your playing with a lot fire right now”. “What are you gonna do about it if i did simon”.

Ghost was not satisfied with your response and it pissed him off even more. He released his hold in your hair and dragged you by the arm towards his room. Since john and gaz were on a mission soap was the only one on base with you two. Your stomach was doing backflips and excitement was surging through you body.

Yo knew how much you hated ghost and you wish you mean what you said but deep down you wondered if he was good in bed. The loud slamming door shook your thoughts away “What’s your problem?” your eyebrows raised as you crossed your arm over your chest. “I told you not to call me that love” he narrowed his eyes at you and started to walk closer to you.

“I can call you whatever i want”. You rolled your eyes as you nervously stepped back until your rear hit the desk behind you. There was no escaping this. Ghost sighed long and hard. “Not my fault you don’t like your own name”. Ghost laughed deeply “Never said i hated it, i like when they scream my name instead”.

You blushed deep red at his comment not expecting this to take a turn but you weren’t mad at it either. “It’s just like you said, I’ve never made a woman cum before or would you like to test that theory sweetheart”. He challenged smirking under his mask. God he can read you like an open book.

The air got caught in your lungs and for once you didn’t have a comeback. He grunted amusingly “Thought so, i’ll take that as a no. You couldn’t even handle me even if you tried love”. He chuckled and began walking away. Before he could even get far you grabbed his wrist. “Wait” you whispered softly embarrassed at yourself. “Hm what is it speak up use your chest”. “Let’s put that theory to the test and see if you’re really full of shit”. You challenged him back.

“Much better, i’m gonna fuck that little attitude outta you. Once im done with you, you’ll be begging for it everyday”. You shuddered slightly, his words had your head spinning. He stepped closer to you and you gasped softly as picked you up with one arm easily and sat you on the desk.

Ghost pulled his balaclava up till it sat of the bridge of his nose and you could clearly see that smug ass grin on his lips. “What are you staring at?” You were honestly shocked, he had a nice set a lips and you could already tell he was attractive

“You have some nice ass lips, just wonder if you ever them to use”. You smirked. He grunted in response and ignored your comment. He leaned in closer towards your ear and whispered “Enjoy it while you still can” his voice was so deep and you felt a damp spot forming on your clothed cunt.

You whimpered softly when felt his hands roaming your body. He was teasing the fuck out of you for a long dreadful 5 minutes and you couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s got you squirming so much hm?”

he asked observing your movements knowing damn well about the affect he has on you. He payed attention to detail, he was learning what made you tic and squirm. “P-Please ghost” you whispered lowly. Your wasn’t listening to you and you did not want to give in.

“Please what love i can’t hear you?” he smirked into you neck and he gripped your hips and he left a trail of kisses up and down your neck. “Please ghost please touch me” you gasped out roughly.

It took you this long to understand how touch deprived you were and you felt so hot under his touch. Ghost was putting on a show, his eyes were confused “Touch you where? Use that mouth of yours like you were earlier, go on i know you can do it for me pretty girl”.

Your head swirled at his words, being called pretty girl made your brain fuzzy and it definitely threw you off. You leaned against his office desk in the dim lit room. All of a sudden he freezes his actions of teasing your body.

“Take it off” he ordered. “Take what off?” you questioned since you obviously didn’t know what he was asking of you.

He leaned in and caged you between both of his arms, looked you up and down and with his husky tone “You know what i’m talking about sweetheart”. “Go on” he said eyes filled with complete desire.

You blushed realizing he was talking about your top and bra. You furiously followed his order and stripped you shirt. cursing at yourself for looking so desperate but your body wasn’t listening to you. You tried unclasping your bra but you were too nervous to do it.

Ghost started at you with a taunting gaze. He was challenging you and it was really turning you on instead of pissing you off.

You shifted uncomfortably the cold air grazing your hard nipples while ghost was practically drooling at the sight oozing with dominance. He straightened up and slowly grasped onto you left boob massaging it with enough force as he played with you nipple on the right.

You whined at the feeling but oh it felt so good and he barely even started. “Look at you, I had my theories but i knew deep down you knew what your body really wanted”. He said with pride dripping from his voice. You just knew he had a smug ass face.

Even though it should piss you off odly enough his words made ur arousal drip into your panties. You can feel his hot breath against your nipples as he sucked and licked them as he trailed down to your core.

Your body shivered in excitement as you felt his hot breath against your clothed core. He effortlessly took your pants with your underwear off. You gasped softly and the sudden exposure. Ghost kneeled in front of you legs that were now spread nice and wide for just for him.

“All this for me, who would’ve thought”. He smiled smugly his cockiness was through the roof. You looked away embarrassed. “No no no that won’t do, eyes on me”. Before you could even respond you his rough younger against you clit.

You couldn’t help but moan softly in response. His arms were holding your hips down as you laid against the desk fully submitting to him. He began to lick long teasing licks up and down. “Let me cum please” you moaned out choking over your words.

“Good girl”. he grunts out as he mumbled into you wet pussy. Your tight hole clenched around air at the praise. His tongue was the best thing you have ever felt, you were in pure bliss. Your body was reacting to every movement his tongue did.

He sucked on your swollen precious clit with just enough pressure to have you moaning out his name. His tongue was fucking your aching pussy as you arched back feeling that familiar coil tighten in you belly. “That’s it, cum for me love”.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body fell limp as you saw stars. Your mouth forming an o shape with the words to follow. You moaned loudly and shook as he continued to suck on your swollen clit and lapped up your sweet juices. “Knew this cunt would taste sweet”.

You look down and met his eyes watching your every movement and facial expression. His smug smirk on his face made you drop in arousal even more. The way how he talked you sent electricity through your body.

He dove right back down into the mess he made of you and he sucked on your sensitive bud. You whined softly because of the overstimulation. He slid in a finger with ease since you were soaking wet. You never knew a mad could work so much magic on your body.

You gasped and moaned loudly as he began to hit that sweet spot you know so well. “Yes, yes just like that s’good”. He hummed in response as he worked on your aching cunt. The vibrations ran all through out your body. You eyes widened due to the immense pleasure.

You slightly panicked due to a weird feeling and you felt like you were going to burst. You whined out due to the sensitivity “Ghost- fuck simon wait i’m-“ he slid in two fingers gracefully. Fingers gliding in and out like butter due to you slick from you arousal. You moaned loudly and whined softly due to the pleasant intruding feeling into your aching wet hole.

“Fuck simon just like that”. He grunted in response gaining confidence from the sweet noises he was pulling out of you as he began palming himself through his tight jeans.

Your belly gained that weird unfamiliar feeling once again and your hand flew to his wrists attempting to stop him but he wouldn’t budge and continued working hard on your wet sloppy cunt.

You moaned out breathlessly stumbling over you words as your body shook from the immense feeling begging to be released “F-fuck simon stop give me a second”. “Mhm” He moaned deeply into your cunt the vibration ran through your core.

“Go ahead love cum on my face.” “Fuck oh my god” You moaned loudly as this unfamiliar feeling and it was creeping up fast and ghosts takes note and his speed quickened at a wicked pace. Fingers abusing that soft spongy spot buried in your sweet cunt.

Your body shook as you tried to back away ghost held you in place. His strong form wasn’t allowing you to move a single muscle and you were forced to just take it. The sounds of your arousal turned you on even more.

You were panting and begging for that release as it built up more and more. The coil in your belly snapped. Ghost moaned into your now dripping wet pussy as he tasted the sweet juices pouring out of you. You managed to gasp for air as his lips left your cunt.

You couldn’t even register would took place but you had a pretty good idea. The realization hit as you realized what you did. “Oh my god fuck i’m so sorry”.

“Did you just squirt on my face?” He questioned eyes gleaming with pride as he asked amused. “S-shut up” you covered your face due to the major embarrassment.

He was quick to grab your wrist and remove the from your your face. He leaned down and you both exchanged a deep hungry kiss still shaking from your two amazing orgasms.

Ghost lowered himself towards your ear as he still held your wrists “I’m gonna need you to show me that a few more times love”. He released you and pulled his shirt over his head his exposed mouth still dripping with your slick as he licked his lips.

Turn around “he ordered”

Crazy to think that the man who you tried to avoid just gave you the best orgasms of your life. Who would’ve thought Lieutenant Riley could make you squirt.

Oh but of course you followed his command. “Yes sir”

[miniwheat77]

Smash pt 2. (dbf!Price X Reader.)

!hefty age gap, daddy kink, mentions of violence, smut, THIS IS FILTHY AGE GAP SMUT YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

John rubs his eyes as he wakes up. His phone is ringing and he wants to answer it before it wakes you.

He sits up and grasps the phone, silencing it and walking out of the room before answering it. He regrets not taking a look at who’s calling this early. “Hello?” John asks into the phone.

“John.”

John sighs as soon as he hears his voice come over the phone. “We need to talk about this John. I just got a call from a buddy of mine saying that he saw you with Y/N buying groceries. How long is this going to last?”

John shakes his head. “That’s none of your business.”

“My daughter is my business.”

“Hardly, you treat her like rubbish.” He scoffs. He’s trying to talk low so that he doesn’t wake you. He can hear your dad sigh on the other end of the phone. “Listen. If you part ways with her right now, never speak with her again. I can let this go. We can continue to be good friends John. I can forgive you.” John shakes his head. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Your daughter needs someone to guide her. Someone who won’t treat her like she’s nothing. She needs support. She needs a fucking father. Who chooses her over his wife. Who puts her first. Who gives a shit.”

“And what, you want that to be you?”

“Course not, I love Y/N. The more she talks about you and everything you’ve done to her, the more I hate you. I mean really. You’ve always put Y/N last and truly, it disgusts me. You’ve messed up with this one but I’m going to pick up the pieces and help her heal. Until you’re ready to apologize to Y/N for all you’ve done and want to be a better father to her, don’t call again.”

A ‘beep’ is all your dad hears on the other end of the line.

John sighs.

He needs to wake up. He makes his way into the kitchen for coffee.

Once you smell it, you start to stir in your sleep. Feeling the bed empty makes you sigh. You didn’t like waking up alone. Maybe choosing a military man who wakes up so early didn’t help with that. But because of who he was and what he meant to you. You’d deal with it.

You sit up, wincing as your feet hit the cold hard wood floor. Standing up. You make your way out of the room and down the hallway to the kitchen. “Morning darling.” John smiles. “Morning.” You smile. Picking up the coffee pot and pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You make your way over to him, sitting across the table from him. “Something wrong?” You ask. “Uh.. well.” He sighs. “Your dad called me this morning.” He mumbles. “Oh boy. What did he have to say?” You ask, sitting up more. “Just.. a bunch of bullshit. How if I get away from you right now he’ll forgive me. Bunch of rubbish.” He rolls his eyes. He sees you smile. “Got quite a way with words, does he?” You giggle. He shakes his head. “God no.”

“Best thing about that man is his daughter.” He winks at you. Seeing your cheeks warm up. “I know right. I’m pretty great.” You sip your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink. “Was thinking we could go to the mall today.” He says. You tilt your head. “Hm? Why?”

“Get you something nice.” He shrugs. You laugh. “No John. Quit trying to spend all your money on me.” You roll your eyes. He stands up, making his way round the table. Sliding your chair out slightly. “Ah cmon darling. Maybe we can find you something pretty to wear tonight. Something we’ll both like ah?” He bites at his lip. “That’s the real reason you wanna go hm?” You laugh. “Well. You already call me daddy. Might as well give you the sugar part too, right?” You roll your eyes. “You’re not my sugar daddy John. You’re my boyfriend.” You scoff. He tilts his head, gliding his tongue over his teeth. “Boyfriend huh? I like that. Makes me feel not so old.” He laughs. “Cmon though. I can look for some stuff, you can look for some stuff. We can look for some stuff together. It’ll be a date.” He smiles. “Alright alright. Let me get dressed.” You laugh.

———

Your eyes scan the whole wall of fragrances.

“Oh dear.” John mumbles. You can’t help but laugh at his apprehension.

“You got 4. It’s buy 3, get 3 free. So I can find 2.” You smile. “Right. Right. But if you want more than that, I’ll buy you 3 more.” He laughs. “No. 2 is good. I can get a spray and a lotion.

You spray one on a fragrance tester card. “What about this one?” You ask. He leans into it, taking a sniff. His nose crinkles up. “Bloody hell. What is that?” He pulls away like his nose has just been assaulted. You roll your eyes. “So dramatic John.” You laugh.

After looking across a few more, you find one you really like. “What about this one?” You decide to spray it on your wrist and let it soak into your skin for a second before letting him smell it.

He nods his head. “Like that one.” He smiles. “Perfect. Now let’s go, this store is giving me a headache.” You murmur. Going up to the front.

“Did you guys find everything you were looking for today?”

You nod your head. “Yeah we did.” You smile. After finishing checking out, you make your way around the mall. Coming across a Victoria's Secret. "Isn't this what you came here for John?" You smirk. Seeing his cheeks turn pink. He rolls his eyes. "You think I'm scared?" He laughs. "Course not. Cmon."

You're shopping around a bit, you've only found a couple of things to buy. You don't expect to run into your friend. The one who was supposed to go to the barbecue with you. You wanted to call her up and thank her for not showing up. Than, you might not have gone home with John. She approaches you when she sees you. "Hey Y/N." She smiles. "Hey. What are you doing?" You ask. "Just shopping around. I haven't heard from you in a couple weeks. been worried about you." She looks concerned. "Oh... It's a long story." You blush. She looks confused. "Sorry darling, I had to take that phone call." John appears from behind you and once her eyes see him, they widen slightly. "Oh. I see. Is this uh..." She asks. Seeing you nod your head. "Oh shit." She laughs. "I missed a few chapters I see." She smiles. "John, this is my friend I told you about, the one who was supposed to come to the barbecue." He reaches a hand out and firmly shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me a lot about you." He nods. His accent is thick just like you said it was.

She laughs. "Trust me, Y/N has told me A LOT about you too." She winks. Seeing crimson rush up your cheeks. "Well I got class in a few hours and I still have more shopping to do. I'll see you around Y/N. Nice meeting you John." She smiles. After some more goodbye's, you're parting ways. After checking out and going through a couple more stores with John, you're making your way out to the parking lot. "Eventful day ah?" He laughs. "Very."

He opens up your door for you and just as you're about to get in, you hear someone calling his name from across the parking lot. "Hey John." You see a man jogging up to him. He's familiar. You seen him around your dad a few times, knowing who he is. He's a friend of both John and your dad. "Is... Is that Y/N?" He asks. Seeing you sitting in the passenger seat. "Yeah." John smiles. "Oh.. so what he said is true." He looks awkward. "What did he say?" John crosses his arms. "That you were messing around with his daughter." He laughs, turning to look at you. "You okay honey?" He asks. You narrow your eyes. "Oh, I'm great. Better than ever." You stand up, pushing the door open further. Wrapping an arm around John. "I guess you could say that. I don't know why he acts like he even cares about her. You know he let his wife send Y/N off drunk from that last get together they had? If it weren't for me she would've had to walk home." John shakes his head. "You're kidding, he always made himself out to sound like a great dad." He shakes his head. "No, his wife had my car towed the next morning and he didn't even care." You grumble. "Wow. I'm sorry to hear that Y/N. Well... as weird as it is to see the both of you together, I hope you're doing well. See you around." He tilts his head. John waves and you get back into his truck.

"Jesus. Let's get home before we run into my dad next." You laugh. "No kidding." John laughs.

———

John is finishing up the dishes. You said you needed to shower and get ready for school the next day, so you're upstairs.

You feel a little bad for leaving him hanging but you know the surprise you have for him will make up for it.

You finish putting on the set of black lingerie he had his eye on. Waiting for him to come upstairs. You can hear his footsteps coming upstairs. Waiting in the doorway of his bathroom for him. When he steps inside, you step into his line of sight. Seeing a smirk grow at his lips. "Jesus..." He breathes. He steps closer to you, hands gliding over your hips to pull you closer to him. "Where you been all my life huh?" He laughs. Pressing his lips to yours.

Before that night at your dads house, if someone had told John this is where he'd be a couple months later, he'd tell them they're crazy. His hands glide down your ass, he hears you gasp because of how cold they are. "Jesus." You laugh. Taking a breath. "You're perfect you know that?" He breathes. He pulls you back into him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you standing between his legs. He toys with the black lace of the lingerie set. You take in a deep breath, eyes feeling heavy as his hands climb higher up your stomach, hands cupping your breasts.

You didn't know how long this would last. Maybe John would have a come to jesus moment and feel bad for messing around with you because you were so young. Maybe he'd tell you to stay away from him someday, restore that friendship with your dad. Leave you with nothing. Maybe he didn't really believe that you were in love with him.

But you knew, all you could do was savor it. Relish in every last burn his fingers left on your skin. You tilt your head back as his hand moves higher, brushing over your throat. John is like some sick drug. The effects he has on you are everlasting. He presses his hand over your throat, pushing you back so that he could spin you around. He pushes you back onto the bed and you barely realize where you are. "Am I losing you darling? You this crazy about me huh?" He laughs. You look up at him, gliding your tongue over your lips. You don't know what to say, so you choose to say nothing at all.

He grasps the hem of his shirt. Pulling it over his head. "S'alright. You can keep daydreaming. I'll take you somewhere nice baby." He leans down, kissing you again. He's got himself propped up with one hand to unbutton his jeans. Once he's freed himself, he pushes your legs apart. Grasping the panties you had on and pulling them down. He moves himself up. Looking down at you. It's dim in the room. You swallow hard. He lowers his head, lips right near your ear. "Just relax for daddy, yeah?" He smiles. His warm breath causes chills to rise on your skin. "Fuck." You breathe. He lines himself up with your entrance, sinking into you. A hiss leaves his lips. He doesn't feel he'll ever get used to the way you wrap so tightly around him.

"Fuck." He breathes. He slides out, pushing himself back inside. The warmth he feels from you is always so much. He doesn't know how he holds back from cumming so fast that it's pathetic.

The way he grips the sheets is like a maniac. Holding on for dear life as he loses himself in you.

"Look at me baby." He breathes. Lifting your chin to look at him. You look up at him, eyes full of tears of pleasure. They always are when the both of you are intimate with each other. Your thighs shiver and he's barely touched you. "Give yourself to me." He breathes. "Want you to look at me okay?" He breathes. "Keep looking at me baby." He breathes. He raises his hips just slightly, rutting deeper into you. Your eyes close instinctively. You hear him chuckle. "Keep them open darling. Keep looking at me." He breathes. He keeps a steady pace, watching the walls behind your eyes start to crumble. He's so good at making you fall apart. Picking apart every last nerve ending in your body. He uses his thumb to rub your sensitive nub, sparks shooting into your lower stomach. Your lips part and cries start to leave your lips. Your eyes get heavy but you obey him. Keeping them open.

You push him off of you, taking him off guard.

You push him back, climbing on top of him. He gasps as you slide down onto his length again. It's easy with how wet he's made you. You grasp his wrists and pin them above his head. He entertains it and lets you. Wondering what exactly you had in store for him. "It's your turn. Your turn to look at me." You start to rut your hips into his, seeing his face turn up like he's in pain. You know he's not. He's feeling good. He groans out as you raise your hips off of him, sliding back down on him. You keep eye contact with him. Getting exactly what you wanted. His eyes are fixated on yours and his lower stomach clenches up. "Fuck, you feel so good baby." He hisses. He lowers his gaze for a second to watch his length disappear into you. The perfect show.

You're soaking him, the wetness of your pussy gathers at the base of his cock. He can feel it running down him. "Fuck- John." You pant. He grips your hair. Tugging your head back. "No, that's not what you call me baby." He growls. Your body shakes over him. "Daddy." You mewl. "So close.. so so close." You sob. He starts to rut his hips up into you. watching you fall apart above him. "Look at me." He sits up, holding you into him. He keeps thrusting up into you. "Cum with me. Look at me baby." He pants. Your hips jump slightly. Body going stiff as you cum, but you keep eye contact with him as he finishes you off. He holds you tight against him, thrusting up into you, emptying himself of his filth. Pumping you full of it.

When he finally stills inside of you, you take a deep breath. Laying your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, he finally laughs. "Feel better sweetheart?"

"Much." You laugh.

"I'll always take care of you, you know." He brushes your hair out of your face. You rest your head on his chest. "You don't have to go through any more bullshit, not while I'm here."

Your dad gave John a choice.

But he thinks he's got his mind made up already.

[utahmammoth]

“there’s nothing to worry about” - sidgeno

thank you t! i fudged the prompt a tiny bit but i think you'll be okay with it haha

dialogue prompt meme | age gap, omegaverse, mpreg | rated E | 915 words

Sid pants as Geno fucks into him, his long cock inside of Sid's cunt, a sticky sheen of sweat over both their bodies as their skin is pressed together.

The Penguins’ breeding program coordinator said it would be best like this, face to face, scents swirling. Sid’s not in heat yet, not really, but he can feel it simmering in his blood. Sully sent them both home halfway through practice, Tanger and EK making obnoxious kissy faces behind Geno’s back as they trudged off the ice.

“Okay?” Geno asks. His accent is still so unbearably thick, only three months stateside. 

“Yeah,” Sid says and plants his feet on the bed and rolls his hips up, burying Geno deeper inside of him. It’s his second time heating with Geno, but some weird primal part of him wants to prove himself again. Wants to show the guy what fucking an omega nearly twice his age gets him.

Geno’s breath shudders and his hips lose their rhythm, fucking Sid recklessly as his scent gets stronger, a wave crashing over Sid and inching him deeper into heat.

The slick sounds of their bodies moving together fills the air, hips crashing together, the wet shine on Sid’s thighs from his cunt getting Geno messy, marking him up as Sidney’s. In turn, Geno rubs his wrists all over him—his scent gland, his puffy nipples, his wide hips. Before he got inside him, Geno nuzzled his own scent gland over Sidney’s inner thighs over and over before he ate Sid out until Sid came, thighs shaking around Geno’s head and his cock spurting onto his stomach.

Geno smells good. Not like any alphas Sidney’s ever fucked. He’s always sort of thought the compatibility filings and bloodwork of the breeding program were mostly bullshit—after all, people outside the program get pregnant all the time, so why does the NHL need to make sure pheromone profiles match before getting their players knocked up?

But after Geno got smuggled out of Russia in the cover of night and landed in Mario’s foyer, Sid understood. It wasn’t just that Geno had the best likelihood of getting him pregnant—which he did, far more than any of the other alphas the Penguins have offered up over the years, their eyes silently begging Sid to say yes to this one before Sid said no. 

It was deeper than that. Geno was his, meant to be his. He had backed the kid up against the wall right there in the foyer and scented him while Mario laughed and laughed and laughed behind them.

“Come on, alpha,” he says because he knows it gets Geno going. He’s nineteen, and that kind of bravado shit always gets into the young guys’ heads. “Knot me.”

Geno’s groan is low and needy. He might not be the best at English yet, but he knows those words.

Geno hooks his hands under Sidney’s legs and spreads him open, straining Sid’s muscles in that really delicious way. He tries to sit up, his eyes roaming over Sid’s body, but Sidney grabs him and pulls him back down.

“The coordinator said to do it like this,” Sid mumbles, ad he knows Geno didn’t totally get that, but he’s a sweet boy. He lets Sidney set the tone for basically everything they do.

Geno adjusts his hands so he can still hold Sid open as he ruts into him, pounding at his cunt until finally the perfect catch of his knot on Sidney’s rim, Sid’s muscles clamping down into place and holding Geno inside of him.

He sighs in relief as Geno comes, hopefully making a perfect little pup with Geno’s hooded eyes and tall stature and Sidney’s curls.

Geno slumps and relaxes when he finally finishes emptying into Sid, his hands coming up to play with the ends of Sidney’s hair and rub his scent absentmindedly over Sid again.

They lay together until they unknot and Geno plugs him up with the toy the coordinator told them to use during what was probably the most embarrassing conversation of Sidney’s life. Geno had to have his translator there too, which was even more embarrassing, the way her eyes kept catching Sidney’s.

“G—” he says as Geno curls up beside Sid. “What if—?”

He can’t help thinking about last heat cycle, when he started thinking about baby names and picturing Geno and their pup on the ice together, the three of them going out for ice cream after skating, only to have negative test after negative test, nothing growing inside of him. The flood of thoughts that came after, like maybe he was too picky when he was younger and now that he’s finally found the alpha he wants to mate with, it’s too late.

Geno puts his hand over Sidney’s lower stomach and kisses Sid’s jaw and scoots in even closer, until the entire length of their bodies are pressed together, down to their feet.

“Nothing to worry,” Geno says. Sid knows he’ll lose the accent someday, but he wishes he wouldn’t. He’s grown to love it, the garbled English, Geno’s furrowed brow. “I’m best, so—” Sid laughs, and Geno does too. “Make best pup for you.”

“We’re the best,” Sid says. 

“Is what I say,” Geno says, and smiles brattily.

“Sure,” Sid laughs. “Take a nap, and then we’ll go again.”

Geno nods and closes his eyes, and Sid watches him for a minute, memorizing his face, picturing it on a baby, before following him to sleep.

[slowdrawl]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader|

| 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist}

Chapter 8: Tomorrows Problem | wordcount |3.8k| {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

| a/n | we're picking up from the bar fight and shit is about to get even more real, messier, tell me if you like it so I have motivation to keep this thang going plz.

“I’m not scared of much, but I’m fuckin’ terrified of this, of loving you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, SMUT, fighting, slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, yearning, intoxication, strong language, emotional vulnerability, age gap dynamics, possessive sex, guilt, mentions of grief, cum play, spit, grinding. series warnings after the fic. reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory

Your voice cuts through, hoarse and jagged. Joel and Tommy don’t budge. Joel’s got Tommy’s collar twisted in his fist, knuckles white, gaze scorching under the cap’s brim. Tommy’s smirking, taunting, chest puffed like a rooster. The bar’s dead quiet. Neon hums louder than the crowd, every drunk asshole staring, waiting for blood.

This is humiliating.

Joel’s jaw grinds, grip tightening. “You’re done, Tommy. Back the fuck off.”

Tommy laughs, low and nasty, shoving Joel’s hand away. “Done?” he pulls out his cellphone, holding it up to Joel, “Maybe I’ll call him now.”

Joel’s stare flares, pain and rage cracking. He throws a hook, catching Tommy’s jaw, sending him staggering into a stool, his phone sliding across the floor. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Joel snarls, voice snapping.

Tommy, spitting blood, shakes it off and then swings a punch, gloating still. “Why not? You’re fallin’ apart over her, sad old bastard. Sarah’d be real proud, her dad droolin’ over her little playmate, bet she’d puke.”

Oh, shit.

Your gut twists, breath catching. You lunge, shoving Tommy hard. “Leave her out of this!” Your voice cracks, hands slamming Joel’s chest next. “And you, back the fuck off!” Joel’s rigid, glaring past you, ready to snap.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Tommy leers, wiping his lip. “Ask him, Bird. Ask why he’s trailin’ you like a lost dog. Your daddy picked him to watch you, not fuck you. Ain’t that a twist?”

Joel’s eyes lock on you, fierce and wild, desperation spilling out. Jesus Christ. You glare back. 

Tommy keeps taunting him, “What, Joel? Spit it out or get out.” Tommy’s on him again, shoving harder.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy. Stop,” you snarl, pushing him again. “Don’t drag them into your bullshit.” Joel just stands there, shaking his head. You can’t quite tell if he’s giving up or if he’s just restraining himself at this point. Either way, seeing him act calm all of a sudden is even scarier.

The bouncer’s moving, big guy with a shaved head, pushing through. “Break it up, now!” he barks, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder. You put your hands on Joel's chest, heart slamming. “Enough, Joel, go!” He stumbles back, pushing your hands off of him.

“Get off me,” Tommy snaps, shrugging the bouncer off, still sneering. “He started it, fuckin’ has-been.”

Joel’s breath’s ragged, hands shaking. “You’re a goddamn punk,” he mutters, turning away.

Damn liar.

The bouncer glares. “Another fucking word and I call the cops.”

Tommy laughs, bitter. “Run, Joel. Let Kev sort you out, bullet’s got your name on it.”

Joel doesn’t even look at you, storms toward the door, shoving through. You’re stuck, legs locked, pulse racing, Tommy’s arm brushing yours like nothing happened.

“Get the fuck away from me,” you snap, pushing him off. The bar buzzes again, band kicking in, voices rising, but you can’t drink this away.

//

You’re left standing there, whiskey sour in your gut, Joel’s shadow gone but thick. Tommy slings an arm around you, pulling you back to the table. “Fuck him,” he says, grinning, blood on his lip. “Can’t believe he thinks he’s got a chance. let’s drink.”

Fuck.

You sit, numb, as he waves down more shots. Whiskey glints neon-red, you knock one back, throat burning, head spinning. Tommy’s hand’s on your knee, heavier, sliding up. “Told ya I’d fix you, Bird,” he murmurs, leaning in, breath hot.

You force a laugh, but it’s hollow. Joel’s wild stare flashes. I’m fuckin’ haunted by you. You shove it down, grab another shot, down it fast. Tommy matches, grinning like he’s winning, but you’re vibrating. His touch feels wrong, too light against Joel’s.

“See?” Tommy says, wiping his mouth. “He’s outta your hair, my turn now.”

I think the fuck not.

You lean back, trying to ignore it,let the buzz take over instead. It’s not working, Joel’s words   echoing with every pulse, flashbacks of him desperate on top of you last night playing in your head. Tommy pulls you to the dance floor, even gruffer this time, off beat. You sway, half-there, his hands tugging close, whiskey and sweat, no fire. The crowd blurs, but you’re sinking, not burning Joel out.

What the fuck am I doing?

Tommy’s lips graze your neck. You tense. “You’re mine tonight,” he murmurs, like it’s settled. You laugh, bitter, pushing him back a fraction. He doesn’t let go.

“Chill, Bird,” he says, smirking. “Ain’t no old man here to cockblock me now.”

Screw you too.

You’re dizzy, booze, tension, Joel’s snarl. Tommy’s hands feel like chains. You shove harder and stumble back, catching your breath. He laughs, grabbing your wrist, pulling you in. “Where ya goin’?”

“Let go,” you snap, voice low, yanking free. His grin falters, eyes narrowing.

“What’s your deal? Do you want me, or you plannin’ on fuckin’ him instead?”

Is there a third option? Can I have that?

You’re spiraling, Joel’s “I can’t stop,” Tommy’s “she’s mine,” Dad’s trust, Sarah, all crashing in. You turn, headed for the bar, needing air, something. Tommy follows, slower, muttering, “Fuckin’ tease.”

You lean on the counter, order water. The bartender slides it over, eyeing you up and down. “Rough night?” he grunts.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter, gulping it down, head pounding. Tommy’s back, arm brushing yours, but you’re done. Joel’s weight’s too loud, Tommy’s too shallow.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, cutting the haze. You fish it out, hands unsteady. Screen glows, two new texts.

(10:15 PM) Sarah: Hey babe, u free tomorrow? You ghosted me—need to catch up, miss u xo

Fuck.

(10:40 PM) You: sorry sarbear, been busy. Facetime me in the am? We can do video brunch lol

Your gut twists, her laugh, Joel’s mouth crashing together. You swipe to the next.

(10:35 PM)Dad: Where u at, Tweety? Heard there’s trouble at Sam’s—u ok? Okay Austin ain’t that fuckin’ small, who’s calling him from here? Actually, who cares, not doing this tonight

(10:42 PM) You: I’m just leaving everythings fine, call you tomorrow. Love u most xo

Tommy’s behind you, hand on your shoulder, leaning in. “Who’s that?” he says, smirking. You’re frozen. Joel’s gone, Tommy’s here, Dad’s voice creeping in. You're overwhelmed, overstimulated, over it.

Fuck this noise.

You shove the phone into your pocket, and turn to Tommy. His grin fades. “I’m leaving,” you mutter, voice flat, pushing past. He just stares, eyes narrowed like he’s pissed, like he really thought you’d end up staying after that stunt earlier. You turn, headed for the door, letting his “Fuckin’ tease” trail you out. The crowds parting too slow. You shove through it, crashing through the double doors into the night air, sharp and biting. bar noise fading behind you, you stop short. Joel’s still here, leaning against his truck, cap off now, staring down. His head lifts, his gaze locking yours, loaded.

Of course he’s still here.

“Are you fuckin’ waiting for me?” you snap, voice slicing the quiet lot. He straightens, jaw tight.

“Get in,” he says, low, nodding to the passenger side.

“Piss off,” you fire back, stepping closer. “I’m not your damn kid to drag home, cowboy.”

“You’re drunk,” he mutters, steady. “Ain’t leavin’ you with him.”

You laugh, bitter. “What, gonna find somewhere else to embarrass me? Always fuckin’ there, just go already.” He doesn’t respond, just walks around to the passenger side and opens up the door. “You guys are fucking crazy, making a scene like that, pathetic.”

His stare narrows, a possessive edge flickering. Tommy’s hands burn in his glare. “Get in,” he repeats, voice firm, sober as stone. You glare, fists clenching, buzz fading but blood hot. Tommy’s “Who’s that?” bites. Fucking whatever, you stomp over, climb in, slamming the door hard.

Bullshit.

Joel gets in, starts the engine, and pulls out slow. The cab’s silent, just the rumble and faint country static. His knuckles whiten on the wheel, focused. Streetlights blur past, clock ticking toward 11. You stare out, his weight from earlier pressing your mind. You clamp your thighs together, hating yourself for the ache.

“Whats your deal?” you mutter, venom seeping. “Why can’t you stay away?  Fuckin’ shadow.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw ticking. “Ain’t about stayin’ away,” he says, clipped. “You’re pullin’ me back, Bird, every damn time, told you that.”

“Then stop comin’,” you say, turning. “All talk, ‘mistake’ this, look at the stunt you pulled. What’s that say?”

He glances, stare searing, then ahead. “Says I’m fucked,” he mutters, low and gruff, leaving it there. The silence stretches, your pulse loud, his presence a furnace you can’t dodge.

Yeah, right there with you, pal.

The truck rolls up to your place, dark and empty, Dad’s in Dallas, no one to stop this. You stumble out, head clearing, even more pissed, even more brave. Joel follows you like a stupid puppy. You turn on him under the porch light, shadows sharp.

“Go to bed, Joel,” He’s at the steps, pulling a flask from his jacket, cracking it open, taking a slow pull, whiskey in the air.

“Ain’t leavin’ you like this,” he says, stepping closer, eyes locked. “Not after that.” Your phone buzzes in your bag, a sharp jolt cutting through the haze—Dad or Sarah, you’d bet, someone sniffing out the mess Tommy’s probably already spilling. Who cares.

You laugh. “Like what? Done with your games? After Tommy? Fuck, you are a jealous old man. Go break someone else. Just leave.”

He grabs your arms, pulling you close, breath hot against your face. “Just listen to me,” he says, voice breaking, raw and low. “I don’t wanna ruin this—ruin you. But I’m runnin’ scared, ‘cause if I don’t, I’ll hurt everyone, it’s what I do, Bird.” You wrench free, stepping back, tears stinging your eyes. “So you kiss me, fuck me, then vanish—think that’s fair, Joel? You think I don’t understand the risks here? What even am I to you, an Itch you can’t scratch?” You shake your head, choking back the tears, angry. “Why are you even here.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then drags a hand through his hair. “Cause I want you, Bird. I see you with him—Tommy, anyone—and it’s like a knife in my gut.” He walks back over to you, grabbing your wrists now, gentle and says  “I’m not scared of much, but I’m fuckin’ terrified of this, of loving you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Oh. Did he? I mean he did but he didn’t, but he… You freeze, the words sinking in, chest tight with a sob you won’t let out. “Stop fighting it, that’s what's fucking this up, Joel,” you whisper, grabbing his shirt, yanking him inside. “Stop runnin’ and show me that you want this.” You stumble down the hall, his boots thudding behind. He kicks the door shut, flask hits the floor—spilling, tomorrow’s problem. You stumble up the stairs, no need to think about the creaky step.

//

You’re on him in the bedroom, hands clawing at his flannel, tearing it off his shoulders as the hat falls somewhere behind him, leaving his curls a wild mess. His shirt snags on his arms, and he yanks it free, chest bare, skin flushed from the night. You rip your tank over your head—no bra tonight—and the air hits your skin, cool against the heat rolling off him. The room’s dim, shadows dancing from the moonlight through the window, and he’s on you, hands roaming your torso, calloused palms rough against your ribs, thumbs grazing your nipples until they harden under his touch.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all damn day,” he growls, voice thick with need, mouth crashing into your neck. His lips are hot, teeth scraping as he sucks a mark on your collar, the sting blooming into a bruise you’ll feel tomorrow. You gasp, shoving at his chest, but your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, nails biting his skin. He steers you toward the bed, your legs hitting the edge, and you stumble back, springs creaking under your weight as he looms over you.

The air’s heavy, thick with sweat and anticipation, his broad frame casting a shadow that swallows you whole. He smirks, breath teasing your ear, hot and uneven. “You’re squirmin’ already,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble that sinks into your bones, sending shivers racing down your spine. His fingers trail along your inner thigh, feather-light at first, teasing the sensitive skin beneath your jeans. You squirm, hips twitching up, and he presses harder, palm flat against you, rubbing through the denim with a slow, maddening precision that lights up every nerve.

He’s over you now, deft hands unbuttoning your jeans, tugging the zipper down with a scrape that echoes in the quiet. He peels them off, slow and deliberate, denim dragging against your thighs, leaving faint red trails on your skin. His fingers hook into your panties next, lace catching on your slick, peeling off wet, leaving you bare beneath him. The cool A/C kicks on, hitting you, sharp against the heat pooling low, and you’re already trembling, exposed. “Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, voice rough with awe, kneeling between your legs, spreading them wide with his hands. “This all f’me?” He asks, then his mouth trails your thigh, sucking a soft bruise into your skin, then shifts to the other, teeth grazing, a gentle nip that makes you jolt. “Somethin’ bout you nearly breakin’ someone's jaw over me did that I think,” you reply with a laugh. You feel his lips twitch into a smirk on your skin, moving higher, brushing the crease of your hip, and sucking lightly. He continues up to your stomach, leaving a trail of faint red marks, each one a claim that sears into you.

You’re impatient, hips lifting, desperate for more, but he pins them down with a firm grip, bruising and steady. “Hold still,” he growls, voice a warning, and you whine, the ache between your legs growing unbearable. He shifts, getting up and lying back on the bed, propping himself up with two pillows. He grabs you, coaxing you to turn around and then pulls you over him with a rough tug. “C’mere, Bird,” he says, guiding your hips up, positioning you straddling his chest, knees on either side of him, you look back meeting his eyes; dark with hunger.

You’re buzzing, hands fumbling with his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers in one impatient pull. His cock springs free—thick, girthy, veins pulsing under the skin, the head glistening with precum—and you can’t wait, wrapping your lips around the tip, tasting salt and heat. The weight of him fills your mouth, heavy and warm, and you moan around it, the sound vibrating through him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, hand fisting your hair, gentle but firm, his hips twitching up as you work him slow. His other hand slides between your legs, fingers brushing your slick folds, teasing your entrance before pressing one inside. You gasp around his cock, the stretch sharp and sudden, and he adds another, pumping steady, matching the rhythm of your mouth. Your tongue swirls along the underside, tracing every ridge, savoring the way he fills your jaw as his fingers fill you, hitting that spot that makes you shudder.

You tease the tip, licking slow circles around the head, tasting the bead of precum there, and he growls low, a sound that rumbles through his chest. You dive back, taking him deep again, nose brushing the coarse hair at his base, throat full, humming around him. The vibration makes him buck, a sharp hiss escaping his lips, and his fingers speed up, fucking you harder, slick dripping down his hand. You’re trembling, thighs shaking, you feel him tense, fighting to hold back. You pull off slow, spit stringing from your lips to his tip, panting, wrecked. You turn around, your eyes flicking up to meet his—black, blown wide, staring back at you like you’re a goddamn vision.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he pants, jaw slack, voice thick with awe and want. He grabs you under your arms, pulling you up his body with a rough yank, then flipping you onto your back beneath him. The bed creaks under his weight as he settles over you, pinning your hips with his thighs, his cock hard and heavy against your stomach. “Can’t stop wantin’ you,” he mutters, mouth crashing into yours, kissing you deep and sloppy, tasting himself on your tongue.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wide, and he shifts lower, pressing himself against you—his shaft slick with your spit and your own heat, sliding through your folds, the head brushing your clit with every slow rock of his hips. You gasp into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, the friction raw and electric. He’s not inside you, but the weight of him, the thick slide of his cock, feels like a tease that’s lighting you up from the inside out.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails he’ll feel later. He’s relentless, grinding against you, the slick heat of him dragging over your clit, building a slow, burning pressure that’s got you trembling beneath him. His breath’s hot on your neck, ragged and uneven, and he’s muttering your name, low and broken, lips brushing your skin as he moves. You arch up, hips meeting his, chasing the heat, the ache, every thrust of his cock against you stoking the fire in your gut.

He shifts his angle, pressing harder, the underside of his shaft rubbing you just right, and you whimper, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. Your hands slide down his sides, nails digging into his hips, urging him faster, and he obliges, his hips snapping with a rhythm that’s desperate, needy. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, his cock gliding through your slick, teasing your entrance but never slipping in, and it’s driving you wild—every nerve alight, every touch a jolt that’s pushing you closer.

You’re panting, sweat beading on your chest, dripping behind your knees, and he’s no better—his forehead’s slick, breath coming in short, rough bursts against your ear. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, voice cracking, kissing you again, teeth clashing as he presses himself closer, the heat of his body searing into yours. Your hand slides down, finding his cock between you, wrapping over the top of it, fingers curling over the shaft as he grinds. The added pressure, your grip guiding him, makes him shudder, a low groan tearing from his throat.

“Goddamn, Bird,” he rasps, hips stuttering as your hand tightens, the friction intensifying with every rock against your clit. You’re guiding him now, stroking him through your slick, the head of his cock catching on you over and over, and it’s incredible—the slide of him against you so perfect it’s dizzying. Your clit’s throbbing under the pressure, each pass of him sending sparks up your spine, and you’re climbing fast, the heat coiling tight in your gut. It’s not enough, though; he’s so close, brushing your entrance but not filling you, and it’s agonizing—your walls clench around nothing, desperate for more, the pleasure so sharp it’s almost pain.

You’re trembling, thighs shaking around his hips, and he’s muttering filth into your ear “Fuckin’ mine,” his voice wrecked, pushing you higher. He pulls back just enough to spit, a hot, wet line landing where his cock slides against you, adding more slick, more heat, and it’s filthy, primal, sending a jolt straight through you. Your hand moves faster, slick with your own heat and his spit, guiding him harder against you, and you’re there, right on the edge. It hits you sudden and fierce—a white-hot wave crashing through you, your hips bucking up, a broken cry spilling out as you cum. It’s overwhelming, the lack of him inside you making it sharper, wilder, your body pulsing with an ache that’s equal parts bliss and torment.

He feels it, your shudder, the way you tighten—and his rhythm falters, hips jerking harder, more erratic. “Fuck, Bird—” he groans, voice breaking, and you don’t let go, jerking him faster, your hand slick with you both, guiding him over your pussy. He comes hard, a guttural growl ripping from his chest, thick ropes spilling hot and messy across your folds, coating your clit, dripping down your thighs. You keep stroking him through it, hand tight and steady, milking every shudder, his breath ragged against your lips as he kisses you, riding out the last waves.

In your head, it’s a goddamn storm—his cock against you, your hand on him, the wet heat of his cum mixing with yours—it’s so fucking good, a raw, primal thrill that lights you up, better than anything without him inside you should be. But it’s torture too, the absence of him filling you a screaming ache, your walls fluttering, begging for what he won’t give. It’s overwhelming, incredible, and agonizing, all tangled together. It’s driving you wild, the edge of it lingering, sharp and insatiable even as you come down.

Fuck. He rolls onto his side, hand dipping between you, fingers slipping through the mess—his cum, yours—and he brings them up, pressing them to your lips, then sliding them into your mouth. You taste him, salty and sharp, mixed with your own slick, and he pulls them free, slipping them back down to your pussy, pushing them inside you. “Ride it out,” he mutters, voice broken and gravelly, and you do, hips rocking against his hand, the last tremors of your orgasm pulsing around his fingers, drawing it out longer, sweeter, until you’re gasping, spent.

He slumps beside you, panting, sweat slicking his chest, his cock softening against his thigh. You’re sharp now, buzz gone, wrecked in a different way, the heat of him still lingering on your skin, his cum sticky where it’s smeared across you. He reaches beside the bed, grabs his shirt, and wipes you clean, slow and careful, the fabric dragging soft over your pussy, catching every drop. He tosses it aside, then pulls you into him, arm locking around your waist, lips brushing your hair—tender but firm.

“All mine,” he mutters, softer, holding you close, skin on skin grounding you. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re spent, boneless, no strength left to argue, just a nod and a shaky whimper against his chest. The room’s quiet again, A/C humming faint, but your pulse thunders. His breath slows, chest rising steady beneath you.

After a few minutes, woven together, the haze settling, you murmur, “Joel.”

He tilts his head down, voice thick with sleep. “What is it, Birdie?” He presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“Stay.”

“I’m not goin’ nowhere,” he mumbles, drawl slurring, hand resting heavy on your back. “Not tonight.”

“Whatever you say, cowboy,” you breathe, a half-laugh slipping out.

Your phone buzzes somewhere.

Sarah, Dad, Tommy, ignored for now—you’re stuck there, spent, his hold a promise of more.

series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, grinding, spit, cumplay, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, infidelity/implied, semi-public sex, breeding kink lowkey, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115 @mystickittytaco @your-nightmaredoll @leenieweenie12 @orodaeh @jokesonthem

[youronebraincell]

Casual pt 1

Beth Dutton x Fem College!Reader

Warning: age gap, undefined relationship, d-word, smut, strap-on (r receiving), face-sitting, mild alcohol abuse, light angst

Word count: 3880

One night, you take Beth home.

Things escalate from there.

“I’m not a dyke”

You barely register the words that come out of Beth Dutton’s mouth as you come down from a mind-bending orgasm. Your arm is over your eyes, blocking your vision. Your bare chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath. You’ve melted into the mattress and become one with your bed.

When you think you’re at the point where you can form words and maybe even a sentence, you sit up and turn to look at the older woman sitting on the edge of the bed by the footboard. “I don’t know what you are, but no straight woman eats pussy like that. Fuck, it was like you were starving”

You’re not sure if Beth is even listening to you.

She takes a pack of cigarettes out of her bag and pulls one out before placing it between her lips. She rummages through her bag before tossing it back onto the floor. She turns to look at you.

“Got a lighter?”

“I don’t smoke”

Beth gets up and leaves the room.

You put on a shirt and your discarded underwear from earlier before following her. Your tiny studio apartment doesn’t give her much room to go far.

She turns on the front burner of your gas stove then bends down and turns her head to the side to light her cigarette. She brushes her hair behind her head to avoid it catching flame. When her cigarette is lit, she stands straight and turns off the burner.

Her eyes avert to the books scattered across your coffee table. “You’re studying law”

You descend the short ten step staircase, your hand sliding down the railing. “Yeah”

Beth hums before blowing smoke through her mouth, the cigarette resting idly between her index and middle finger. “Why? And don’t give me some bullshit about ‘wanting to fight for what’s right’”

“Money” You say honestly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Plus I’m argumentative”

A wry smile pulls at the corner of the older woman’s mouth. “That so?”

“That’s what my mom keeps saying” You shrug like your words don’t matter, but Beth can sense the repressed frustration laced in your voice.

“Mothers” Beth huffs, smiling ruefully. “They really have a way of getting to you, don’t they?”

She saunters over to you until you’re barely a foot apart. The heels of her cowboy boots give her the slight advantage of looming over you.

Her eyes study your face for a moment before she comes to a conclusion. “You won’t make a good lawyer” She says, taking another drag of her cigarette and letting it fill her lungs before exhaling the smoke through her mouth. “You’re too soft”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion”

“That’s fine” The older woman says as she makes her way towards the door. Her hand is resting on the doorknob while she looks at you, a sad smile pulling at her lips. “You’ll remember when it turns out I was right” And with that she leaves.

You don’t see her again for days.

You’re eating at a booth in the back of the town’s new diner when she takes a seat across from you.

“Tenders and fries? What, are you four?”

Your eyes don’t leave your laptop screen as your middle finger moves around the touchpad. You pop a fry into your mouth. “What do you want, Beth?”

“You. Now”

You look at her with an incredulous look on your face. You let out a humorless laugh. “You want me to drop what I’m doing just because you’re horny?”

“Yes”

“You’re unbelievable”

“I’ve been called worse in the last few hours” Beth reaches over to grab your half-empty glass of water before downing what’s left and slamming the cup back down on the table. She stands up, her eyes staring straight into yours. “Don’t keep me waiting”

You watch her walk away from the booth before exiting the diner all together.

Five minutes later, she has a smug expression on her face when you walk towards her car. She watches you with a smile as you get in the passenger seat without saying a word.

When she’s in the driver's seat, she rummages through her bag before throwing a pack of sweet mint gum onto your lap. “I don’t want to taste stale fries and overcooked chicken when I’m kissing you”

You roll your eyes, but take out a strip nonetheless.

The drive to wherever the hell Beth is taking you is spent in silence, safe for the hum of the afternoon radio. The basic country music that blasts through the Mercedes S-class is grating, but you hope you don’t have to endure it much longer. You turn to look at the older woman who has one hand on the wheel while the other rests on the center console.

“How did you know where I was?”

Beth doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “I didn’t”

“Then how did you find me?”

“Small town”

“Are you gonna keep giving me vague answers?”

“Maybe”

You roll your eyes again and look ahead of you. You’re still chewing the gum she gave you.

She pulls into a luxurious apartment complex that you can only dream of living in. She parks her car in the parking lot inside then opens her door, expecting you to follow. Which you do.

You head inside then step into an elevator.

Just when the doors are about to close, a wrinkled hand puts a stop to it, its presence between the doors causing them to open again. An old man steps into the elevator without looking at the two of you. You don’t see the way Beth rolls her eyes. He presses a number that’s just one more than the one Beth pressed before his appearance.

As the elevator starts to move, Beth puts a hand out in front of your mouth. You turn your head to meet her gaze. She quirks a brow as if she’s silently telling you to do something. You look at her for a bit before spitting the gum into her open palm.

Beth leans into your side. “Good girl” She whispers, sticking the gum on the back of the man’s blazer.

When you reach her floor and the doors slide open with a ding, the two of you step out of the elevator.

Beth grabs her keys as you walk up to her door.

Her apartment is.. incredible. Floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking city view. A crystal chandelier that glimmers above a velvet sectional while a glass fireplace adds warmth to the open-concept space. The kitchen, a chef’s dream, boasts state-of-the-art appliances. In the bedroom, silk sheets and a walk-in closet filled with designer pieces complete the picture of effortless luxury.

You’re speechless.

Beth puts down her bag. “Strip”

You watch her walk into her walk-in closet where she turns on the lights. You set your own bag with your laptop and other stuff down by the vanity before taking off your clothes. You can't help but touch every beauty product she owns.

You turn your head when you hear her enter the bedroom. Your eyes rake over her nude body, from the swell of her breasts to the soft flesh of her toned stomach. What really catches your eyes is the black harness around her hips and the pale dildo that juts out between her legs.

“Oh.. wow”

“This the kind of stuff you’re into, right?” Beth asks like she already knows the answer. She walks over to the dresser where she pours herself a glass of whiskey. “Maybe not. Maybe I wasted several hours watching lesbian porn for nothing” She shoots back her drink before pouring another. “Either way” She tilts her head. “I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so well with my silicone cock, you’ll be feeling me with every step you take for the next couple weeks. Is that what you want, Y/N?”

You let out a soft breath, trying and failing to ignore the throbbing between your thighs. You nod.

“I know it is, baby” Beth knocks back her second glass. “Now get on the bed”

You waste no time laying on your back. Part of you knows how pathetic you’re being, but you seem to rationalize it with the fact that Beth Dutton is even willing to touch you. That seems to be enough.

She ties her hair back.

“Should I be worried?” You ask as she gets on top of you, settling between your legs. God her eyes are really fucking green up close. “Usually when women tie their hair back, it means they’re determined to do/prove something”

Beth lets out a dismissive hum like she didn’t listen to a word you were saying. There’s no warning when she slips a single finger into your wet cunt.

You gasp softly.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Just.. caught me off guard”

She slips her finger out of you.

You feel the tip of her faux cock press against your slit. Beth looks down between your bodies as she slowly pushes her hips forward, watching every inch of ‘herself’ sink into your warm heat till she bottoms out with her hips flush against yours.

Beth looks at you now, her eyes roaming over your features. “You okay?”

You nod tightly.

“Use your words, baby”

“Yeah. I’m okay”

“Good”

Beth presses her lips against yours in a passionate kiss that escalates into one of hunger. As always, you let her take the lead. Her tongue finds its way into your mouth with ease, exploring and claiming. You can taste the strong, lingering remnants of whiskey and the faint taste of mint on her tongue. You moan softly into the kiss when she starts moving her hips. She starts off slow before setting a steady pace. You’re surprised by how well she’s thrusting into you since it’s her first time doing this.

Beth breaks the kiss to press open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. You close your eyes and turn your head, giving her better access to your skin. She feels the vibration of your breathy moan against her lips. You shudder when she licks a line from your collarbone to your pulse point.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the opulent bedroom. Beth’s breathing doesn’t falter. Not one bit. Your hands rest on her upper back.

You’re close. And she knows it. She can tell by the way your short nails are starting to dig into her skin.

When you cum, it feels like a dam has broken loose. Your eyes screw shut. Your back arches as your velvety walls clench around the silicone toy that continues to thrusts in and out inside you. A moan can’t help itself from escaping your lips.

Beth doesn’t hiss or complain when your nails threaten to break through her skin. Many of your past relationships/one night stands have. You can’t help it. You need something to anchor you when you reach your peak. You think Beth knows that.

Beth picks up her pace, her body moving rhythmically over yours. The mattress creaks in time with her thrusts. She's wild, unrestrained, her eyes focused on the point where her hips meet yours. You can feel her breath, hot and shockingly even, on your neck as she drives deeper into you.

You arch your back, lifting your hips to meet hers, desperate to feel her even more. Each stroke sends a shockwave of pleasure through your body that making your toes curl and your fingers dig into her back. The room is a blur of sensation, the only thing clear the feeling of her strap-on filling you up, stretching you out with its length and girth. She's not gentle, but you don't want her to be. You crave the roughness, the urgency in her movements.

Your breath catches as the orgasm builds again. Just like before, it starts as a small tremor in your core and spreads outwards like a wave. Just like before, you clench around her, trying to keep her in, to hold onto the feeling just a little longer. But just like before, she doesn't let up, her movements only becoming more erratic.

You come with a cry that's more guttural than you ever knew you could make. But she's not done. Far from it. She keeps going, pushing you into another orgasm, then another. Your vision swims with pleasure, your mind a haze of sensation. You're lost in it, drowning in the feeling of her fucking you, in the power she holds over you in this moment.

You don’t know how much time has passed when she finally slows down. Her breathing is different now. Not ragged, just a bit uneven. She’s slow to pull out of you, not missing the way you exhale.

You watch as her fingers work to undo the harness before letting the strap fall to the floor with a dull thud. Beth looms over you, her eyes warmer than you've ever had the chance to see them. Her hand comes up to brush a few rebellious strands of hair away from your sweat-coated forehead.

“Thank you”

“No problem” You say with a small smile despite having the slight feeling that you just got used. Your breathing is still somewhat pant-ish, but you swallow thickly as you gain some courage for what you’re about to say next. “I could return the favor”

Beth chuckles like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I don’t think you’re in any state to do that right now, darling, but I appreciate the offer”

“Sit on my face” You say, casually. “More than half of me needs some time to cool off before I can fully function again, but my mouth is in pristine condition. I could eat pussy in my sleep”

Beth quirks a brow, a sly/impressed smile pulling at her lips. “Alright. Suit yourself”

She positions herself over your face, her legs on either side of your head. She holds eye contact with you as she lowers her cunt onto your lips. You suppress a moan at the rich, musky smell of her. The well-groomed hairs of her mound tickle your face, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Go ahead, sweetheart” Beth encourages as she frees her hair from its confines. She shakes her head a little to untangle it. Her eyes find yours again. “Or do I have to ride you myself?”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You taste her once more, the tang of her desire coating your tongue. You hear her breath hitch, her hips rocking slightly as your tongue darts out to tease her aching clit. You feel the tremor run through her as you begin to explore, your hands gripping her taut thighs to hold her in place. You delve deeper, feeling her wetness against your nose, the softness of her flesh under your touch.

Her legs tighten around your head, suffocating you as her grip on your hair tightens also. It only spurs you on. You let your hunger for her guide your every movement of your mouth. You flick your tongue over her clit, feeling it swell beneath your ministrations, then delve into her warmth, tracing circles around her entrance before plunging inside.

Her body responds to your touch like a finely-tuned instrument, each stroke and suckle eliciting a new sound, a new spasm. You can feel the tension coiling within her. You don't ease off. If anything, you double down, eager to feel her come apart on your face. Your tongue moves faster, pressing harder, until she's grinding against you, her hips bucking in time with the rhythm you've set.

The moment she cums is like a symphony of sensation. Her thighs tighten, her back arches. She lets out a loud, breathy ‘Fuck!’ that echoes through the room. Her wetness floods your mouth and you drink it in, relishing the taste of her release. But even as her orgasm crashes over her, she doesn't stop moving. Instead, she grinds against your face even harder, silently urging you on, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Unsurprisingly, you obey, your tongue still dancing across her clit, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her.

After her third orgasm, she gets off of you and collapses beside you on her back. She puts her forearm over her eyes, blocking her vision as she tries to catch her breath. “Shit, Y/N. That was.. fucking incredible” She chuckles. “Bet you’re leaving a lot of sorority sisters very happy”

You snort a laugh.

Beth lets out a somewhat blissful sigh before sitting up. She gets out of bed and heads into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. A while later, she comes out with a towel wrapped around her.

You watch her walk around the room. “Are you going somewhere?” You ask before letting out a soft yawn. You nuzzle into her pillow.

“No” The older woman says as she pulls a new pair of lacy underwear over her legs. “I have a virtual meeting with a company in Salt Lake at four”

She puts on a bra, undershirt and a black pencil skirt that fits her like a glove. You want nothing more than to caress her curves, but you restrain yourself. She holds out a light blue satin top in her left hand and a white button up in the right.

Your eyelids feel heavy as you point at the satin top. You let out another yawn and close your eyes.

Beth tosses the white button up on the bed and puts on the other option. She looks at herself in the mirror to make sure she’s presentable. Perfect as always. Then she turns around to look at you.

You’re fast asleep, your lips slightly parted.

Beth purses her own before leaving the room.

A few hours, your eyes flutter open as you begin to wake up. You close them again as you stretch lazily, your toes pointing towards the footboard. You check the time on the digital alarm clock on your right. 6:57PM. You let out a sigh before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and getting up.

You put on Beth’s white shirt after you pulled your underwear over your legs. You leave a few top ones unbuttoned before leaving the room. You always thought it was such a cliche when the woman in movies or shows wore the man’s shirt after they had sex. Yet, here you are now.

You find Beth sitting behind a desk in what you assume is her home office. She notices you when you come into view. She’s on a call, if the Bluetooth earpiece around her right ear is any indication. Her right hand types something into her laptop while she reads from a white paper that she holds in her other. You can hear her talking, but it’s all business stuff you don’t understand. Yet.

You walk over to her.

Without looking up at you or pausing her conversation, she uncrosses her legs and turns her body towards you. You take the silent invitation and sit down in her lap. Her left arm boxes you in with her right as she continues to do her work.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for her to finish up.

Beth takes the earpiece off and tosses it carelessly onto the desk along with the papers in her hand. She wraps her arms around you. “Sleep well?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep that fast before” You trace your pointer finger along the scar on her right cheek.

Beth smiles a little.

“..Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot”

You take a breath before continuing. “Why don’t you live with your family? At the Yellowstone?”

Beth presses her lips together, her jaw tightening for a brief second. “Too many memories there”

You don’t push further. “Does your hot brother still live there? I think he’s an attorney”

Beth scrunches her nose in pure disgust. “If you think Jamie’s hot then I must be on fucking fire”

You laugh. “I mean.. he’s not bad on the eyes. He has this look about him. He looks like he gets shit done.. but I also get the feeling that he’s a-“

“Pussy”

“Pushover”

“Two things can be true at once”

You smile. “I guess they can” You reach for the glass of water on her desk and bring the rim to your lips. You shudder after swallowing the liquid. Your throat burns. “That’s not water”

“Never said that it was” Beth takes a sip of the vodka like it’s nothing before setting it back down.

You wonder how she’s doing it. Once you’ve recovered, you wrap your hands around her neck as you look down at her. “Does that one guy still work at the ranch? He’s kinda big. Has a beard. Wears mostly all black. I think his name is Rip?”

You see a look on Beth’s face that you’ve never seen before. You can’t place it. It’s like a cocktail of sadness, anger and recognition. You don’t know what to do when her arms fall at her side.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth, a guy walks in. He’s tall-ish and has this city vibe about him. You figure this is Beth’s assistant.

“Got that info you wanted on the Irons case” Jason hands Beth a file that she gradually accepts. She shifts her weight. You get the message.

You stand up and look at her.

Beth doesn’t look at you. “Jason will take you home. I’ve already texted him your address”

Again, you open your mouth to say something, but Beth beats you to it without averting her gaze.

“Goodbye, Y/N” Beth says coldly.

You frown at her cold demeanor. You don’t say anything as you walk past Jason to leave the room.

He drives you home. He even walks you to your door. You glare at him to which he smiles as if to say ‘Yeah, this sucks, but I kinda have to.’

“Sorry. Beth’s orders”

You roll your eyes and use your key to open the door before slamming it in Jason’s face.

Once you’ve settled into bed (after taking a long-ass shower), you get a text from Beth.

Sorry for being a bitch

You turn over your phone so the screen is face down. You close your eyes and focus on falling asleep. All you can think about is Beth and how she hurt your feelings. Maybe you overstepped. But even if that was the case, she could’ve said something instead of brushing you off.

You decide to let it go for now and go to sleep.

The next day, she’s at your door before you leave for college. You cross your arms over your chest.

Beth doesn’t say anything. What she does do is reveal a bouquet of hundred dollar bills from behind her back. “Actions speak louder than words, right?”

“You think you can just buy me off?”

“Can’t I?” Beth questions with a cheeky smile.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling, but you fail miserably.

You forgive her. You always do.

[wallofchynax]

SWEETHEART (3/?)

POSTED ON AO3 chapter one is here

Synposis: Shawn Michaels is a legend. A Hall of Famer. A respected veteran in the wrestling industry. He’s also one breath away from a full-blown breakdown. Because somehow, despite his best efforts, he’s found himself entangled with the worst possible problem: you. You, the young, smug, utterly relentless female wrestler who has made it your personal mission to ruin his peace. Shawn knows this is a bad idea. And yet— He can’t stop.

Chapter Synposis: Shawn Michaels is currently regretting having ever encouraged your behaviour towards him but realises he's in too deep when your 'friendly' conversation with Seth sets him off.

Ships: Shawn Michaels / Bratty!Reader, Stephenie McMahon/ Triple H

Content Warnings: Female!reader, bratting/brat taming, having sex in a risky location and almost getting caught, age gap relationship (older man/younger woman), no beta we die like men

You were a woman in a mission. Pity that by the time you barely make it down the hallway, Rhea Ripley steps into your path, arms crossed, expression lined with amusement. 

“You want to tell me about last night?” 

You grinned, crossing your arms, “I don’t know what you are talking about...” 

Rhea exhales through her nose, fighting a smirk. “Bullshit. He’s been a goddamn wreck. Can barely look anyone in the eye. And every time he does look at you, he looks like he’s either gonna pass out or throw you over the nearest table.” 

Your smirk deepens. “Interesting.” 

“Yeah, real interesting,” Rhea deadpans, eyes flicking over you like she’s analyzing a puzzle. “So, what, you got him twisted up over you now?” 

You stretch your arms above your head, exuding nonchalance. “Who’s to say?” 

Rhea watches you for a beat before shaking her head, grinning. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” 

You tapped a finger to your chin, stepping away and beginning to walk down the all but Rhea followed. 

“What can I say, Rhea?” You said, “Childhood dreams come true...” 

Rhea didn’t miss that and tilted her head, “Your childhood dream was to mess with Shawn Michaels?” 

You lean against the wall, giving her an exaggeratedly wistful sigh. “When I was a kid, I told everyone I was gonna marry Shawn Michaels.” 

That earns you a full-blown laugh.  

Like a FULL laugh as if you said something funny. When Rhea looked back at you, you furrowed her brows. 

“Oh shit, you’re being serious?” 

“Since I was a kid. I studied everything about him. Every match, every promo, every little detail. I used to sit there, rewinding tapes over and over, breaking down how he moved, how he worked the crowd. It wasn’t just a crush. It was dedication.” 

Rhea raises a brow, “Damn. That’s next level.” 

You continue, unwavering. “At first, I wanted to be him. To wrestle like him, to be that damn good. But that never meant I didn’t want him, too. And now?” You tilt your head, smirking. “I still want both.” 

Rhea shakes her head in disbelief, but there’s something almost impressed in her expression. “So, you’re telling me… your entire life’s plan has been marrying Shawn Michaels and be the best damn women’s wrestler of all time?” 

“Exactly.”  

She watches you for a long moment, then laughs again, shaking her head. “You know, I don’t even know if I should be worried for you or for him.” 

“That’s his problem.” 

“You’re insane.” 

You push off the wall, stretching. “And yet, here you are, following me around.” 

“Watching this slow-motion trainwreck is the highlight of my day,” Rhea shrugged. 

You chuckled “Glad I can provide entertainment.” 

Rhea watches you for a second longer before smirking. “But I gotta ask… if little you could see you now, what would she think?” 

You don’t even hesitate.  

“She’d be proud as hell.” 

Shawn Michaels is still thinking about last night.  

He spends almost every hour trying to rationalise the events of the previous night. He repeats to himself that it didn’t mean anything He convinces himself that he maintains control over the situation, over his own actions. That he can simply compartmentalize what happened, act as though nothing has shifted between you. 

He is lying to himself. And not very convincingly. 

The truth is, Shawn Michaels can still feel it. The heat of your skin, the way your breath ghosted over his neck, the way you looked at him like you knew. Every time he sees you today, every glance, every smirk, every casual brush past him in the hallway, you remind him. You don’t even have to say a word. It’s there, in the way you hold yourself, in the way you tilt your head when you catch his eye, in the way your lips twitch just slightly, like you’re daring him to crack first. 

And right now, in catering, he is losing his mind.  

Seth Rollins is laughing, loud, genuine, and completely unbothered you’re leaning just a little too close to him. It’s harmless. You’re just talking, just enjoying the conversation, but from the corner of the room, Shawn Michaels is watching. 

He doesn’t know why but this bothers him so much.  

You know he’s there. You feel his gaze, 

You don’t acknowledge it though. You just enjoy your conversation with Seth. Tilting your head when Seth says something particularly funny, letting your laughter spill over.  

It makes Shawn’s jaw tighten.  

Seth is completely oblivious to what is going on.  

“Nah, but for real, I swear, that dude has no idea what he’s doing in the ring. I had to literally grab him by the wrist and—” 

You hum thoughtfully, lips quirking as you rest a hand against Seth’s arm. Just for a second. Just long enough. 

That’s all it takes. 

A chair scrapes against the floor. Loud. Abrupt. Enough to make a few heads turn. 

You don’t need to look to know who it is. 

Seth, in the middle of his story, barely has time to register the shift in atmosphere before Shawn is right there, standing over the table, his expression carefully neutral—but his body? Tense. His arms are crossed, his stance wide, shoulders squared like he’s about to cut a promo right then and there. 

“Rollins.” Shawn nods, his voice clipped. “Didn’t know you were such a comedian.” 

Seth blinks. “Uh—yeah, man, just talking shop.” 

Shawn’s gaze flickers to you for half a second before returning to Seth. “That right?” 

Seth, still completely unaware of the landmine he’s standing on, just nods. “Yeah. Just having a conversation.” 

Shawn lets out a slow, humorless chuckle. “Funny. Looked like something else.” 

Now Seth is catching on. His brows knit slightly, and he glances between you and Shawn like he’s just realized he walked into something he wasn’t supposed to. 

You, meanwhile, barely hold back your smirk. 

“Relax, Shawn,” you say smoothly, tilting your head, voice sweet. Too sweet. “We were just talking.” 

Shawn’s eyes cut to you again, but this time, they stay. 

“You always talk like that?” His voice is lower now, rougher. 

You feign innocence. “Like what?” 

His nostrils flare. “Like that.” 

Seth lets out a nervous laugh, pushing back from the table. “Yeah, uh—I think I’m gonna go grab a drink. Let you two… whatever this is.” 

Smart man. 

Seth doesn’t even get a full step away before Shawn moves. 

It’s fast. Intentional. One second, you’re sitting there, amused, smug, pushing just a little too far, and then suddenly, Shawn’s hand wraps around your wrist. 

Not rough. Not forceful. But firm. 

And then he’s pulling you up. 

You don’t resist. You don’t want to resist. 

There’s something thrilling about it, the sheer force of his presence, the way his grip tightens slightly, the way his breath is coming shallow as he drags you past the catering area, past the curious glances of onlookers who notice the tension. 

“Sweetheart,” you tease, letting him guide you down the hall, your voice laced with amusement. “If you wanted alone time, all you had to do was ask.” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Instead, he keeps moving, straight to the first empty room he can find. 

As soon as you are inside, your back hits the wall and his hands are immediately finding your waist. The air between you is thick, electric with something volatile, dangerous. Shawn's breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling just a little too fast, his fingers still curled around your waist like he’s debating his next move. 

But there is no next move. 

Because he's already in too deep. 

Your body shifts, just enough for your thigh to brush against his. Enough for his grip to tighten and for you to feel his fingers pressing harder into your waist, his thumb grazing bare skin which sends a shiver up your spine. His forehead is still pressed against the side of your head, and for what feels like a moment, the world slows down. The only thing that matters to your right now is the heat of his body against yours as your breaths come in a lot shakier than they had been moments ago. 

Like he’s fighting an instinct.  

But neither of your move. Glued to the floor. 

His lips are grazing your ear, soft and unintentional but it sends head straight between your legs. He notices. Notices the way you squeeze your thighs togethers and for a moment, his fingers twitch against your hips, like he knows how easy it would be to put you in your place right now.  

Your voice is barely below a whisper. 

“You gonna walk away, sweetheart?” 

His head lifts slightly. Shawn inhales sharply through his nose, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers flex on your waist. Your words hang in the air, taunting him, daring him. 

His nose brushes along your jaw, slow, deliberate, like he’s testing himself. “You keep pushing me,” he mutters, voice low, the words barely more than a growl. 

You hum, tilting your chin up, your lips just barely grazing his. “And you keep letting me.” 

Touche.  

But it was a mistake because it was all Shawn needed to make his move. His hips pinning yours to the wall as his mouth crashed against yours. It’s hungry, desperate and all the heat and frustration from the memories of what you both did last night. His body presses into yours, his thigh slipping between your legs. 

You couldn’t help it. You rocked your hips against his knee on instinct.  

That was all it took.  

He growled against your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips as he pinned you to the wall harder, pressing his thigh hard against her right where you needed him. The friction made you gasp as your hands gripped onto the fabric of his shirt before she began riding his thigh even more. 

“Fuck,” 

Shawn kept telling himself this wasn’t professional. 

But fuck. 

It was a bit beyond that now.  

His hands moved fast and needy, trailing over your sides, your waist and grabbing at your gear as if he’s seconds away from ruining your favourite set. His mouth is hot against your jaw, then your throat, biting, sucking, claiming, as if he wants you to to feel him long after this is over. You moan, arching into his touch, your fingers tugging at his hair, making him groan in return. His hands slip lower, gripping the curve of your ass, lifting you slightly, making your breath hitch as he grinds into you, his body completely caging you in. 

It was so reckless. So reckless. Anyone could have walked in. Rhea already knew something was going on. Hell, Seth probably now knew that there was something going on based on what happened. Neither of you stopped. Your hands slip beneath his shirt, fingers tracing over hot, hard muscle, nails grazing along his skin, making his breath stutter. 

“You love making me lose control,” he mutters, his voice rough, thick with heat. 

You answered that by rolling your hips. 

“And you enjoy giving in....” 

He exhales sharply, his grip on you tightening. 

“You,” he growls, lips crashing against yours again, “are such a problem.” 

You gasp against his mouth as his hands slip lower- 

RATTLE. 

The door handle jiggles. 

“Shawn, you in there?” 

Hunter. 

Shawn freezes against you, his body still pressed against yours, his hands still dangerously low. 

You bite your lip, barely holding back a laugh. 

Oh, this was priceless. 

Shawn, still breathing heavy, silent panics for the second time that day. His eyes snap to yours, pleading, desperate, do not say a damn thing. 

Instead, you rolled your hips with mischief in your eyes. 

“Better think fast, sweetheart,” 

Shawn grits his teeth, his body locked against yours as he tries to regulate his breathing. Tries to not make a sound. Tries to not react to the way your hips are still pressed against his thigh, your lips barely holding back laughter. 

Another rattle of the doorknob. “Seriously, man?” Hunter sounds annoyed now. “What the hell are you doing?” 

You enjoyed seeing this. Shawn having to fight his way out of explaining he’s sleeping with talent. It was comedy gold 

“I swear to God,” Hunter mutters, “if I open this door and you’re doing something stupid,” 

Shawn makes a strangled sound, slaps a hand over your mouth, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“I’M CHANGING.” 

You snort against his palm, your entire body shaking with suppressed laughter. 

Shawn’s eyes are looking towards yours. He’s begging you to stop laughing.  

Hunter scoffs on the other side. “You’re changing?” 

“YES.” 

“…With the door locked?” 

“YES.” 

Another pause. 

Then, flatly, unimpressed, Hunter deadpans, “Dude. You wrestled in tights for like two decades. What could possibly be so private?” 

Shawn groans, dragging his free hand down his face. “Hunter. Go away.” 

You lose it. 

Your laughter bubbles out, muffled against Shawn’s palm, your body shaking with amusement. 

Shawn glares at you, then realizes— 

Your laughter is making you move against him.  

And by the look in your eyes, the pleasure and desire in your eyes, the lewd look on your face as you rocked your hips again. Then, because you are an absolute demon, your tongue licks the edge of his palm.  

And his head just filled with images of better places your mouth could be.  

Shawn curses under his breath, immediately dropping his hand from your mouth, gripping your hip tighter to hold you still. 

Hunter, still outside, groans dramatically. “Whatever, man. Just hurry up, we’ve got shit to do.” 

The footsteps fade. The door handle stays locked. 

Silence 

And he still has you pinned against the door; your body still far too close to his.  

You look up at him. 

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “Where were we?” 

Shawn exhales sharply, his fingers twitching against your waist, his forehead dropping to your shoulder like he’s praying for self-control. 

But you don’t let him have it. Instead, you shift, just enough to remind him exactly how reckless this is, how insane it is that he even tried to stop. The heat of your body against his, the tension still thick in the air, the way his obvious problem is still pressed against you- 

This scene is very obscene.  

You love it.  

And Shawn’s hands move before his brain can catch up. His grip rough, needy, lifting you up against the door as his mouth crashes against yours. It’s messy, desperate, like he’s drowning in this, in you, like he’s given up pretending he has control. 

This time, he’s between your legs and you can feel all of him and it makes you roll your hips.  

“Ten minutes,” you murmur, breathless, teasing, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

His lips move lower, dangerously low. “I only need five.” 

He grinds into you. His thick cock pressing against your wetness making you whimper. His fingers dig into the plush curve of your ass, lifting you higher and making your feel how hard he is, how fucking done he is with your bullshit.  

You rock into him, chasing that friction, wanting to feel the heat of him through his jeans. His cock twitches beneath the denim, heavy and aching for you. You rolled your hips again. 

“Fuck,”  

Shawn is already working your gear off, until his rough palms meet the bare skin of your ass, “You feel that?” 

You did. The feeling of the fabric of his trousers against your clit.  

“You fucking happy now?”  

He pushed against you with enough force to make your back arch, to make you grind even harder against him. 

You are. 

Because his cock is twitching, straining beneath his jeans, because his jaw is clenched and because the man you spent a lot of your younger years studying was going to fuck you hard against a wall. Your fingers move fast, undoing the button of his jeans before he can think to stop you. 

“Jesus...fuck,” 

You slipped your hand inside, gripping him, thick, heavy, so fucking hot in your palm. His cock jerks when you squeeze. He’s just as needy for you as you are needy for him. You let your thumb run over the tip, feeling the precum leaking from the tip. 

It wasn’t enough. You wiggled yourself, breath hitching and legs tightening around his waist, just to feel the heat of him against you, bare and hard against your entrance.  

The primal growl that came from him made you clench as his cock slides though the slick folds of your pussy, teasing, taunting... 

Until he pushes in. 

It’s your turn to whimper.  

“Fuck...” You whined.  

Finally, he had you 

His forehead dropped against yours as he sank into you, stretching you open and filling you with that first deep thrust. His fingers tightened around your thighs as he held you in place pressing in inch by inch until there was nothing else, until he was buried so fucking deep, you could swear you felt him pressing against your stomach.  

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your legs squeezing tighter around his waist. "Shawn," you gasped, your voice breaking into a breathy moan as he pulled back and slammed back in, setting a ruthless, hungry pace. 

His breath was hot against your ear, panting, growling through gritted teeth. "This is what you wanted. Now, take all of it-" 

You couldn’t speak. Could only arch against him as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you harder into the door, each movement making your body jolt with the impact. He was ruining you like he did last night, deep strokes dragging against that spot inside of you that made your vision blur that made your mouth fall open in a helpless moan. 

“Such a tight little pussy,” Shawn gritted out, hands squeezing your ass hard, lifting you so he could angle his cock deeper, fuck you harder, “You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” 

You tried to nod but the way he was slamming into you, making sure he dragged his cock against that spot inside of you that made you scream. It was impossible to do anything except take it, to feel every thick, pulsing inch of him filling you up, stretching you out, claiming you in a way that was so wrong but felt so fucking right. 

Fuck. 

You tipped your head against the door and felt your entire body shudder as head built up between your legs, pleasure winding. 

Shawn knew you were close. Knew by the way you were clenching around his cock and for the first time today after all the torment you had put him through, he was fucking smug about it. 

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" 

"Shawn," you begged, your nails digging into his back, clinging to him, desperate, frantic. 

"That’s it," he groaned, his thrusts turning erratic, his grip on you bruising, his cock pulsing inside you, thick and hot and perfect. "Let go." 

You did. 

Your orgasm hit you, sharp and sudden, your walls clamping down on him as pleasure surged through you, leaving you shaking against him, gasping, moaning his name like a prayer. 

Shawn followed, his hips stuttering, his breath breaking as he buried himself deep, coming with a low, wrecked groan, filling you up with each desperate, pulsing thrust. 

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just panting and breathing. Until Shawn lets you down. Honestly, you felt very much like a baby deer walking for the first time, but you managed to stand. 

“I’m going to be late for my meeting,” 

Shawn let out a breath as he ticked himself back into his jeans.  

Great. The aggression was out of his system and now he was the role model of professionalism again. Still, you leaned against the door with your legs shaking, skin still buzzing from the way he just rearranged your guts. You felt his cum spilling out and on to your thighs, body pulsating from the aftermath of your orgasm.  

“Oh no!” you teased, “I wouldn’t want you to be late, sweetheart,” 

Shawn shot you a look. It was a look between exasperation and wanting to fuck you again for being a brat but, he let it go and adjusted his shirt, “You should probably go and shower,” 

“Hmm, scared someone is going to see how fucked out I look?” You grinned lazily, stepping away from the door, “I don’t know, I rather like feeling you leaking from me...” 

Shawn let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching as his eyes darkened. 

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, hands twitching like he wanted to grab you and drag you back to him, consequences be damned. 

You smirked, stretching your arms above your head, making a show of how satisfied you were, how your body still hummed from the way he’d just fucked you senseless. The way your thighs were sticky with him. The way your skin still flushed hot from the bruising grip of his hands. 

If he didn’t have a meeting, you wouldn’t be making it to catering without cum dripping from your legs.