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cinematicgf · 2 years ago

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Breaking the Girl~ 18+ dom!joel

Summary: as a casual photographer, you find the opportunity to go with your neglectful boyfriend to his hometown for the summer thrilling. Taking photos of his neighbors and friends whilst not blowing money on a huge vacation sounds perfect, a small job with his mum, neighborhood summer get-togethers and weekend beach trips accompanied by your trusty camera, why not?! But when a certain charming Southern man, known as your boyfriend’s old boss, enters the mix, you cant take your lens off the fine older man, and he cant seem to take it off you either.

Pairings: (no-outbreak) dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smutty smut, dom!joel and sub!f!reader, piv, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, doll, darling), dirty talk, drinking, swearing, oral sex (f! receiving), arguments, age gap (reader is afab! in their early 20s and Joel in in his mid-early 50s), reader in uni, bit of a praise kink ngl, boyfriend being an asshole and Joel being just as charming as ever, reader has some cunty thoughts but good for her honestly, just pure unbridled filth with a semi developed backstory<3 no use of y/n

~ 7.2k (oops)

A/N: hi all<3 I wanna thank you guys for the support of my previous Joel fic, I appreciate it so much<3 this is just a string of pure filth with limited backstory. my inbox is open for requests as usual, your feedback is always welcome and if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog<3

She was the girl Left alone Feeling the need To make me her home

I don't know what, when or why The twilight of love had arrived

Summer was approaching quick and with your exams out of the way and all the stress of the last few months, the final week of university seemed kinda pointless. Yet here you were in class, daydreaming about all the things you would get up to. Perhaps you could rent a sea-side batch and spend your warm afternoons in the ocean before settling down with a book and a bottle of wine for the evenings. Or maybe, you could blow your barista allowance and go to Florida for the sweltering months. Truth is, you didn’t have any plans for the summer, and with the days counting down much too fast to comprehend, you found yourself at a loss for what to do on your break. No matter what you did, however, you know your trusty camera would be tucked to your side, film loaded in and an extra pocket in your bag to store the developed photos. Photography had been a passion of yours for as long as you could remember. You had saved up birthday and Christmas money for years in order to afford a camera for yourself and you had never gone anywhere without it. Unfortunately, the impending doom of your hobby “having no jobs”, as your father put it, meant that you had to change your uni major. Although, you had been cheeky and added in a photography paper here and there, just to satisfy yourself and to no knowledge of your father.

The sound of a backpack being thrown down next to you made you retreat from your thoughts with a jump. Your boyfriend pushed himself into a seat next to you, “So babe”, he began; god, how many times had you told him you hated being called that. “I was thinking, for the summer, you could come back home with me?” he finished. You looked at him with a frown, the last thing you wanted to do was spend another summer cooped up in a small town like the one you grew up in, the one you visited every holidays, just to be wrapped in uncomfortably tight hugs from elders commenting on, “well well, I haven’t seen you since you were this big”, making their hand level with their knees, “look at how pretty you’ve gotten, you have your mothers eyes dear, you must be so proud of her”, they would always say, giving a warm smile to your father as he too looked at you with a grin, knowing how insane you must think these strangers were. You loved seeing your father on breaks, but c’mon, sometimes you yourself needed some time to yourself.

You contemplated his offer briefly, “Hmm I don’t kno—” “Cmon!” he insisted, unwarily cutting you off, “It’ll be great, we can stay in my parents sleep out, I’ll be working for one of my neighbors who I had a job with in high school, and I’ve already asked my mom if she can find some work for you around her office. On weekends we can walk to the beach and go to the mall and whatnot, c’mon babe, it’ll be fun”. Great, a summer working in an office and hanging out with your boyfriends’ rich parents, sounds… delightful. But truth is, you didn’t have anything else to do over the summer, and maybe this would be a way to relax without spending a boatload of your hard-earned money on a shitty trip. “Hmm... fine, you’ve convinced me”, you pretend to be annoyed about it. He smiles and gives you a quick peck on the cheek which you ignore. “It’ll be great, we can go up Saturday afternoon. First day of summer, the adults in the neighborhood usually throw a barbecue at Joel’s, the guy I’m working for. Yeah, it’s a little rowdy with drunk adults and a pool thrown into the mix but I always find myself actually having fun”. At this point you felt a little excitement creep through you. You arrive and immediately there’s a party, hell yeah. Who cares about drunk middle-aged people when at least there are free drinks. “I’m sure we will have a great time”, you force a smile as he gazes at you, “as long as I’m with you”, he replies earnestly before adding repulsively, “can you bring something hot to wear, like those little shorts- I wanna impress everyone in town that you’re mine”. You cringed at the sudden ruin of the mood and his claiming you as his. It sends a nauseous feeling straight to your stomach with a hint of rage.

Six months ago, you may have laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but truth is, you had been meaning to break things off with him for a couple of weeks now. His constant unawareness to vile comments and the fact that you were always treated as an accessory to him, as if you weren’t a person at all, had just brought you to your breaking point. Not to mention your friend Em, who dated his much kinder friend, had broken the news that him and a girl in another one of his classes had been fucking on the regular. This should’ve hurt, but truth be told, you two had been distant for months now. The only reason that you hadn’t broken it off sooner was the slamming of exam period, as you spend two weeks with your head buried in books, barely seeing anyone, including him (you had kinda forgot about him over that time, if you were honest with yourself, and, you know you weren’t supposed to say it, but it felt kinda nice, not having the responsibility of constantly thinking about a significant other). Remembering all the outliers in your relationship, you cursed yourself for saying yes to the trip and not just calling it quits to spend summer alone. Well, you guessed you wouldn’t be seeing him all that much, with both of you working and you could use the excuse you wanted to check out the town to get away for a bit. God, you felt like a major bitch, but still, it was a free trip. So, fuck it. Call it compensation for how neglectful he had been of your relationship.

The trip back to his hometown was draining. You couldn’t help but wish your boyfriend would just ease up on the constant chatter so the two of you could sit in comfortable silence with the music blaring instead. He told you all about his neighbors and his parents and you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this Joel Miller character he was working for. Single parent, self-made wealthy contractor with a charm about him, or so your boyfriend complimented, as he told the story of how Joel had offered him a job in high school when times were tight through his parents’ divorce. “Listen okay, literally everyone in town swoons for him but I’ve never seen him with anyone, I don’t know, maybe he’s just not looking to settle down. I personally don’t see it, he’s just an old man”, he mentions offhandedly. You were a little nervous to meet him after the string of admiration by your boyfriend.

Once you had arrived and his stepfather and mother had showered you with acclimation (“My goodness Sammy, look at this gorgeous thing, how did you manage to lock her down”). Getting ready for the much-awaited barbecue, you settled for simple, as the humid evening approaching told you that anymore layers, and you would be drenched in sweat. You added some accessories, equipping yourself with your camera and extra film as you and your boyfriend headed across the road to, supposedly, Joel’s house.

Already there was a congregation of neighbors and friends, all gathered around a pool in the backyard, beers in hands, chatting enthusiastically with others they, presumably, were all familiar with. It was utterly suburban, the sight bemusing you slightly as you force away a smirk. Making your way across the lawn and through already intoxicated neighbors you find a full cooler, preparing yourself with a beer before observing the strangers. Your boyfriend had taken off to greet friendly faces, taking the opportunity, you fixate your lens to your eye to capturing the action.

A sweep of the back garden and a few shots later your lens focuses on a tall man leaning on a porch pillar. You can’t help but stare through the disguise of your camera. The cross of his tanned broad arms stretching his t shirt against his chest, making the expanse that much more noticeable. One hand jammed into his pocket, the other superlatively cradling a beer.

His patchy beard lined his structured jaw, squinting as he laughed, dimples inverting the sides of his mouth exquisitely. All these featured crafted the most handsome man you think you had ever laid eyes on. Pressing the shutter, you snap a photo of him mid-laugh as a neighbor entertained him. His admirable laugh carried across the garden, a melody to your ears, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Babe!” you boyfriend calls from across the lawn, cringing once more at the pet name, you wander across the garden after being summoned. “This here is Joel”. Your eyes meet the older man finally greeting the stranger who has piqued your interest the past few hours. He had a southern charm about him, and the closer you get, you can see how broad he really is. His muscles sculpted through his shirt, the veins in his arm mimicking those of Michelangelo's David. What the hell was your boyfriend talking about “just an old man”, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, allure and all.

“Ah, so this is she”, he envelopes your hand in his, his calloused palms connect more gently than you expected with your own young, soft padding. “I’m Joel”, he introduces himself, “I noticed you snapping photos over there”, his smile softens his features, you can’t help but mirror his beaming. “Speaking of”, you say, reaching into your pocket, you hand him the photo you had taken earlier; his attractive face radiating from the Polaroid, “Here”.

Taking it, he inspects it closely, you hold your breath, faintly, always nervous of reactions to your craft, no matter how friendly the gathering. A mesmerizing smile breaks out on his feature, “Probably the best photo taken of me ever. And that’s saying something”, he adds, grinning. “Its all yours”, you offer, watching him pocket the photo with pride.

Joel and you fall into conversation seamlessly. You tell of your uni and photography endeavors as Joel starts telling you about his contracting business. How he got it off the ground with the help of his brother, Tommy, who was lounging on a pool chair beside Joel’s daughter Sarah, who he mentioned with a sparkle of joy in his eye any proud father would have. “So, after Sarah’s mom left, I decided to get my shit togeth—”

“Holy shit”, your boyfriend interrupts. Joel raises his eyebrows in confusion, and you sigh in question, as you were enjoying talking to Joel, “Listen, my old high school buddies are having a boys night at theirs”, he raises up his phone, showing the brightened notification on the screen. You don’t bother to read it. “I gotta go babe, sorry. Ill see you later on tonight, okay?”, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving you standing there speechless before weaving through the crowd of people in the back garden and leaving. You’re shocked, frankly. Sure, he’s been neglectful of you, but this was a new low. Ditching you at his neighbor’s party to go hang out with other people… you are truly dumbstruck. Tears of humiliation and pure anger burn on your lashes, threatening to leak down your face. You turn your attention to Joel leaning next to you, the same stunned expression accessorizing his features, brow slightly furrowed. “Well,”, he sighs after a beat, “that was a bit fucking rude. Sorry about th—“

“Excuse me”, it was your turn to interrupt him, as you fled from his domineering presence, frankly, embarrassed by your bastard of a boyfriend. Tears lighting a fire behind your eyes as your blood boiled.

“Fuck”, you took a look at the bottom of your empty beer bottle, heading over to the cooler. “Fuck!!”, you repeated to yourself upon opening the now empty chiller. Adults really did drink a lot huh, you thought, glaring daggers at the once full bin before wandering across the garden and inside the house.

You navigated the modern, utterly suburban house plan until you found a garage. Damn middle-aged men and their garages, you swear every dad you knew decorated their garage better than their own rooms. Thank god Joel was no different, because you knew there would be a fridge there filled with the good stuff. Once alone with your new full beverage, you let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. You were here, alone now, with people only he knew, did he expect you to just stand in the corner and drink by yourself, observing the party? Did he expect you to just go home? Honestly, the mere thought of it sent a rush of anger traversing up your spine. “Asshole”, you muttered to yourself, taking a swig of your stolen beer.

“Didn’t think pretty girls were thieves”, you heard a teasing voice behind you. You whipped your head around to make out Joel in the doorway of the garage, muscular arms tucked into his sides again, one supporting his almost empty beer. Had he… followed you? He uncrossed his ankles and made his way over to where you stood by the fridge.

“The door was open, arrest me officer”, you retort sarcastically, already over this whole shindig after being ditched by your boyfriend.

He chuckled lightly before noticing your peeved demeanor. “Ah”, he whispers to himself, “boyfriend troubles huh? More so, than the whole ordeal before hm, darling”. You glance at him through your lashes and roll your eyes, “You don’t know the half of it.” Sighing, he moved closer to you, his elbow caressing yours slightly, he looks down at you with an expression you cant quite make out, “All I can say is”, he begins, his voice low and gravelly, “if I had a pretty thing like you for myself, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight”.

Was he… making a move on you? You couldn’t tell. In your drunken state, you didn’t really care either, why not pursue it. Your boyfriend hadn’t touched you in months, the least Joel could say was no; so, fuck it, right?

You inch toward him, “and what would you do if you had me, Mr. Miller”, you coo, your voice tantalizing, wavering on a whisper as you gaze at him.

“Maybe one day I’ll get to show you”, he smirks. The two of you are unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning on your face and can smell his cologne. He is inundating your senses and you can’t get enough. You take the opportunity to weave your hands around his waist. He reaches an unbearably large hand up to your face and skims your cheekbone, his sizeable thumb halting on your bottom lip. You use the opportunity to take his finger into your mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with a soft kiss on the padding of his digit. You can feel him harden against you through his jeans.

“Fuckkkken hell”, he drawls, “temptress,” a darkness scintillates in his eyes.

A loud bang of a door close by followed by a whining, “Daddddddd”, has the both of you jumping apart as Sarah appears in view of the doorway. The young girl is rubbing her eyes, messy curls adorning her cute face. Slumping, she complains again, “Dad, I’m tired, can you tuck me in, please”. Joel gives her a warm smile, “I'll be right there baby girl, go get into bed okay, gimme a second”. She notices you for the first time, “I like your hair”, she grins, you cant help but smile at the young girl, “thank you honey, I like yours too”. With that, she disappears back through the door and up the stairs as Joel’s attention turns back to you, his former dark, eager look has returned.

“Come around tomorrow.” It’s not a question. Rather a demand. One hand engulfs your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze as he plants a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the garage to comprehend the exciting conversation you had just had. Before he does, however, he stops in the doorway and turns back around to face you. “For the record, your boyfriend’s an asshole. Has been since high school.”, he gives you a grin but there’s a hint of concern behind his eyes. It was a shitty thing for your boyfriend to do and he understands that.

Your boyfriend had passed out on his parent’s couch when you left Joel’s house, so you made your way to the sleep out, thrilled to have some time alone to think about the events of the night. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that the entire conversation with Joel felt good. Right, even; like Joel was actually trying to talk to you as any decent human being would. And maybe the bar was on the ground for your after your shitty relationship, but you didn’t feel guilty about wanting the older man. And he wanted you too. Maybe it’ll only be for a quick fuck, but it felt nice to be wanted. You thought about the conversation again before slipping a finger down through your wet folds, rubbing quick fast circles to the nub of your clit, exhaling soft moans. You imagined your hand wasn’t your own but Joel's.

The next day you woke up early. Your nerves shot as you take a shower, taking the opportunity of seeing Joel again to dress in lacy, barely there lingerie under your clothes (why you packed it… just in case, you supposed). If nothing happened between the two of you, or he admitted that perhaps he was drunk and just fucking around, then nobody would know your effort but you. However, if he did get to undress you, the choice to dress up would be an ideal one.

The door is open when you arrive, the summer entering uninvited through the hallway of the cozy home. Entering the doorway to the living room, you knock on the door frame, Joel appearing moments later behind you on the stairs. “Hi again, doll”, he greets you with a genuine smile, walking to the kitchen. Those dimples, carved by Donatello himself, you supposed. “You want something to drink?”, you nod as he leads the way past you. Handing you a dewy beer, you make your way to the couch to sit on the edge like a nervous child and admire the man in front of you. His t shirt tightening at the sleeves, barely able to fit over his muscular, slightly tanned arms. Jeans, ungodly tight around his crotch. You blush at the realization that you’re staring at him in all his glory. Your breath hitches as you focus your gaze on the skew of family photos dotted around the living me.

“Why’d you ask me over?” you come right out and question. In your drunken state last night, you didn’t care if it looked like you were coming onto him, if he said no, your intoxication dulled your embarrassment. But now, in your sober state, you needed to know, so as not to do just that. “I wanna take care of you”, he expressed nonchalantly, his focus occupied on finding a bottle opener. “And how do you presume to do that”, you continue, bemused by his confused expression lightening once he found what he was looking for, popping the cap before coming to sit next to you on the couch. He crossed his ankle over his knee, your eyes unfortunately for you, travel straight to the bulge in his jean. Perv, you curse to yourself. “Well, it just seems like your boyfriend isn’t doing a very good job, is he sweetheart?”. An exasperated sigh emits from your throat, your eyes roll unwillingly at the mention of your partner. You lean against the back of the couch, head resting on his forearm relaxing lazily behind you, as you take a sip from your bottle.

You realize you really do want him… badly. “Maybe I do need your help, Mr. Miller”, lolling your neck to look at him through your lashes, putting on a sad face whilst the hint of seduction in your breathy tone communicates everything to Joel.

He leans in and kisses you, gently at first. You deepen it, needing more of him as you moan into his mouth, giving him easy access to slide his tongue across your teeth. Tongue and teeth collide in a hot, messy kiss. His hand glides up your waist to your throat, where he cups your jaw with two giant fingers and squeezes gently. Quickly realizing you’re in the middle of the living room, gasping pulling away. “Shit, is Sarah home?”, you pant. “Friend’s house”, Joel says shortly, reconnecting your lips to his.

“Then, make me feel good Joel”, you coo, teeth running over his bottom lip. He exhales a low animistic groan, watching his eyes darken to a lust-filled gaze. “Yes ma’am”.

Next thing you know, he is walking you backwards to the spare bedroom downstairs. Both of you are so needy, you can’t even wait to make it upstairs to his own bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, he works at your panties, lips connecting with your throat, neck, collarbone, a symphony of needy groans accompany your pleasureful sighs quickly filling the empty space of the room. Slipping a calloused hand between your thighs, he begins working to collect your arousal, coating the tips of his fingers before slipping a digit into your cunt. You exhale a gasp, he swallows into a groan, “Fuck, doll,” he breathes softly, watching his finger pumping in and out of you, “does this pussy ever get this wet for your boyfriend?” He palms himself through his jeans, relieving some of his building tension. “No Joel”, you gasp, “not like it does for you”. Mascara gathers at your lashes as you squirm on his sheets. Joel’s touch fills you with ecstasy, but you still need more.

“Joel—” you whine, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, desire and devotion flooding his features, you follow his line of vision to the sight of his digit fucking you, then to your camera lying on his bedside table. You see the gears turning in his head, barely able to comprehend what he is up to before he grabs the camera, taking it in one large hand, positioning the base on his palm as he bends his fingers to the shutter button. You turn your head away in bliss, all you can focus on are his expert fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of you. “C'mon baby, you don’t need to be shy around me”. The camera looks miniature in his hand, the flash blinds you, snapping your pure pleasure, freezing it as a passionate moment in time. Joel holds the strap by his teeth, yanking the filthy portrait out, throwing it on the bedside table. Fuck, that just made you even wetter, if that was even possible. “Joel—ah- Joel” you continue to whimper, unworried about the physical evidence of your filthy endeavors due to your young, committed cunt clenching unwilling around his fingers by how good it feels.

“I know, sweetheart”, he whispers understandingly, “Just gotta warm you up a little longer, okay sweet girl”, he slips another digit between your walls. Your back arches against the mattress, head thrown back as a string of moans and whimpers tumble from your lips. Joel’s eyes darken into a hungry, heavy look with every squirm and curse that falls from your lips. Your eyebrows knit together in pleasure as his filthy words and his tantalizing, skillful fingers aid the coil in your stomach to release slowly. Joel, camera in hand, snaps two more of him fucking you with his fingers, discarding them on the table again. “Fuck, my own little cam girl”, he drawls in your ear, smirking, “we got four left, gotta use them wisely now”.

Joel abruptly pulls his fingers out, leaving you gasping for air, whining, as the bliss slowly fades, your arousal still hot and heavily in need of him like the air you breathe. He drags his jeans and boxers off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor by the bed. Taking in his girth, you understand why he had to warm you up first. You damn near moan at the sheer side of it as the slick from your pussy assists his thick fingers to pump himself a couple of times. He smirks at your needy expression. Cocky bastard, he knows he’s big too. Settling between your legs, his tip of his cock teases your entrance. You can feel his pre-cum mixing with your slick, creating an exquisite cocktail. Repetition falling from his lips in an unsteady gravelly tone as he coerces you to take ever inch of him inside your cunt, with a melody of “good girl” and “you’re doing so good for me, pretty baby”.

Joel slides inside you so easily, with how wet you are for him. A soft hiss, and then his features mold into a symphony of pleasure and hunger. His capable fingers tangle in your hair he glides his length in and out, painfully slow. You finally find your voice amongst the soft gasps and ah’s. “Joel— need more, please”, your voices emerges as a breathy whisper; making his features darken with craving. “I know baby, I know”, he coos, “you’re so full right now, aren’t you. That’s it sweet girl, you’re so good, taking every inch of me into that pretty little pussy”.

Your mind is whirling 100 miles per hour as he whispers filthy phrases in your ear, the promise to fuck you hard and slow being almost unbearable to comprehend. His thick cock stretches you out, rock hard, forcing your legs wide open as your ankles cross around his waist for support. It’s too much, fuck! After a few seconds of adjusting to this size, he pulls all the way out. You whine slightly at the loss of him inside you before he slams back into your cunt, filling you all the way before repeating again and again and again. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses your g spot like no other mans has before. All the while he has one large, veiny hand around your throat providing a slight bit of pressure, his thumb caresses your lips, opening them to slide a finger inside. You take the hint as a call back to last night at the party, slipping his fingers to the back of your throat and sucking on them. He groans out a string of profanities, eyes glued to you as you feel his cock twitch inside you at the image before him. You release his fingers, a string of spit still attaching you and him, he uses his thumb to spread it around your lips before dragging your chin down to open your mouth, pressing his lips to yours delicately. You can barely keep up with his kiss as he continues to slam into you at a rapid pace. You’re moaning out his name, a chorus of Joel, Joel Joel-, he smothers your whines with his lips. Rocking his hips up into you slowly, he brings his thumb down between the two of you, his calloused finger after years of contracting, makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles to your neglected nub. You push his hand away after your body jolts from the stimulation and he lets out a low chuckle. “You about to come, sweetheart?”, his voice is restrained and needy. You can feel your orgasm building inside of you, teasing you as the crescendo builds. You nod quickly. Squeezing your eyes shut, your moans begin to become rapid sighs on your tongue.

“Eyes on me, doll”, Joel demands, you open them to be met by the southern man, slamming his hips into you. Fuck he looks so good on top of you right now. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and chest, his hair messy, two curls decorating his forehead. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a beautiful sight. He lifts himself up on his knees, grabbing the camera once more, he takes a selection of photos of you taking him deep into you. He thumbs lightly at your clit for a shot, before the film runs out, a satisfyingly dirty collection of photos to remember your time together by lying next to the both of you.

Your hips move together in conjunction. His hands weave around your back, pulling you into him as his lips attached to your breasts, he anchors his tantalizingly expert fingers into your hair, the plush of your ass, circling your waist— Joel holds you as close as physically possible, his muscular arms crush you, teeth grazing the nub of your breast. There’s a starving kind of desire laced into his kiss. Involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, you slide your hands around his neck to hold yourself steady.

Then, he’s pulling away slightly, his hungry eyes watching his length pump in and out of you, as he plants a strong hand on your thigh, spreading you open to receive impossibly more of him. You are simply a toy at this point, as he dictates the sheer brutal pace of how he fucks you. “God, you look so beautiful, full of my cock, doll”. He moves his lips wetly up your throat, your head thrown back. He smiles against your mouth, you give him a shaky “mmm”, he ardently peaks your lips, releasing after each kiss to watch your cock-drunken expression, his name the only word you can attempt, like worship on the edge of your tongue. “Joel- Joel- Joel, mmm”, you stutter a praise for the captivated audience, who is relishing in the sound of your pleading gasps.

“I wanna see how appreciative you are for this cock, baby, keep your eyes on me”.

His voice is firm as his hardened hands caresses the length of your spine. You feel him flex inside you, his dominant gaze securing you as he speeds up, watching as your tits bounce with his rough strokes. “Ohmygod–Joel–”, the promise of your climax rapidly approaches, the ache undoes all the tension inside you, overtaking every inch of you, causing your thighs to squeeze him impossibly tighter.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me now, Darlin, you’re doing so good, come around me, doll”. The praise, the pet names, him inside you, all sends you over the edge. Your cunt starts to flood and shudder around him, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm release. You squeeze around Joel’s cock so tight; your lungs can only gasp out a mixture whines as you come around him. Joel continues to fuck you through your orgasm, its hard and fast to the point where you can feel another coil build inside you. He can feel it too, shifting your hips up slighting in a way that makes your mind blow, you nearly scream out at how good it feels. “That’s my good girl, I need another one, baby. You can give me another. That’s it, Yes, give it to me pretty girl”, his lips attach to a soft spot behind your ear, making you moan his name, your delicate hands rake through his hair. He pulls out for a brief second, flipping you onto your side as he lies behind you, sliding back inside you again. Its almost as if he never left, you’re so drunk off him fucking you that you can barely comprehend what is happening. Just that it feels so good, his hand weaves around you to play with your nipple, squeezing it slightly as his lips pepper kisses to your neck. he gently hooks your leg over his, stretching you open impossibly wider. “I wanna feel that pussy squeezeing me again, baby”. He continues lacing a string of filthy words into your ear while retreating back to his signature move when the two of you first started, pulling all the way out and slamming into you again.

“Lemme, feel you comin’ when I fill you up, good girl.”

Your second orgasm blinds you as you moan through your bliss. Joel’s gravely groans behind you sound like a melody. His warm breath in your ear and progressive sloppiness, encasing the room in leud noises, accompanied by his broken moans signals to you that he is close too. You turn you head to capture his lips as the aftershocks of your orgasm spark through you, your thighs twitching against his. He meets them brutally, and you know you’re going to be bruised inside and out when this is over. By the time he’s pumped you full of his cum and pulled out, it’s leaking down the inside of your thighs. You attempt to catch your breath, as his cock settles between the two of you on your lower back. You cant help but smile as he rubs lazy circles to your bare hip.

“Fucken hell, that was incredible”, he whispers, more so to himself than to you. “You are something else, doll”, he breathes, still catching his breath. You turn yourself around so that you’re half on top of him, throwing your leg over his so his cock is resting between your thighs. “You’re not so bad yourself”, you retort, smirking up at him.

“You know, you look so fucking pretty on top of me like that, darlin’. Next time, ill have to get a shot of you riding me”. Your heart jumps slightly at the promise of a next time, which he notices, following up his sentiment.

“Are you staying the whole summer”, he questions, his roaming hands worshiping your waist. “Sure am”, you respond hopefully. “Well then, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon”, he gives you a genuine smile, capturing your lips against lip for a delicate kiss, his patchy,lightly groomed beard scratching softly at your cupid’s bow.

You’re still unable to form a coherent sentence, as you feel his slick cocktailed with your own leaking out of your cunt. You slide off him, propping yourself up on a trembling elbow, watching Joel pull his jeans back up over his hips. “Until next time then”, he promises, gliding your panties up your still-weak legs, a wet patch already forming on the fabric. Aren’t you glad you decided to wear these. He hands you the photos and your camera as you attempt to dress yourself again, feeling weak and so empty without him already. Handing them to you, he slips one into his jean pocket with a cheeky comment. Walking you to the door, he kisses you deeply, his grey-flecked beard scratching your cheeks. After your goodbyes you can’t help but miss him. Hell, you’d only known the older man two days; still, you wanted his company more and more as the hours went by, so you reached for what he had given you to remember you by, “until next time”.

You stand in the sleep-out kitchen, admiring the Polaroid’s he had taken of you. You filter through them, blushing more at the sight of each one, dirtier than the last, too caught up to hear the door open. “Hey”, the familiar voice makes you jump. Your boyfriend, out of breath comes stalking through the door. You scramble to hide the photos, collecting them in a bundle, attempting to put them in your jean pocket. You force a smile at him as his eyes travel down to the photos in your hand. “From the party right, lemme take a look at those,” he says enthusiastically, closing the gap between the two of you as he reaches for them. “No”, you try to brush it off, “the lighting isn’t right, they didn’t turn out great, ya know, night shooting is a bitch”, you try to pull the photos further from his grasp, but he has a firm hold on them, yanking them slightly. You gasp as they flutter gracefully to the ground, face up, dropping to your knees to quickly pick them up but he’s already seen. “What the fuck”, he whispers, grabbing one and gazing it, a deep-rooted frown carved into his brow. It was you, mouth frozen in a pleasureful ‘ah’ as a peak of Joel entering you was seen at the bottom of the frame. “You wanna tell me what the fuck this is”, his voice was wavering on a yell.

You decided not to try to explain, “you wanna tell me about the girls you’ve been fucking these past few months, huh?”, you retort. “Everyone knows, everyone has told me to break up with you because of it, shit, you don’t even try to keep it a secret”. You voice is laced with venom, it was high time this discussion was happening, you just wished you had the courage to bring it up on your own, and not in this unwanted circumstance.

“Dont change the subject, who is he?”, he demands, his tone reaching shouting point. “Take a wild fucking guess. Do you need a hint? He stayed with me while you ditched my ass at your neighborhood party. While you humiliated me by just fucking leaving me there with strangers like the asshole you are.” You can feel rage-filled hot tears collecting at your lash line reminiscing about the event. “I know you’re going to try to break it off and think its your own doing but trust me, this”, you direct your finger between yourself and him, “this, has been over for a long time”. You push past him with force, grabbing your bag which you hadn’t even bothered to unpack, thank fuck, what a nice coincidence. You stomp toward the door.

“Fine”, he responds, “but as if he’s going to want you. He’s a middle-aged man with a kid, you were just a fuck”. It spirals you. You turn on your heels to look at him, he is frowning on the verge of tears (how many times had you been there before in his presence) and there’s a contortion of anger in his face, “At least he actually made me come”, you retorted hotly, walking out the door before you remember an extra detail. You pop your head back through the door to utter, “three times, actually”. And then you’re off. You ask his mother to drive you to the train station, explaining the split, briefly, and that you didn’t feel comfortable to stay. She insisted you did, kind lady, but didn’t pry into the details.

Once you had boarded and the train sped away from the dreaded events of the town, you felt relief course through you, no longer chained to that asshole. Sure, you know you should’ve done it sooner, and yeah, it wasn’t an ideal option what had happened, but this meant you could have some time to yourself this summer.

As you were back at square one, you daydreamed of the handful of friends who usually spent their summers on campus to call once you got back. Your phone screen lighting up with a ding, caught you off guard, the name causing your heart to skip a beat.

“It’s Joel. I heard the rundown from his mother, got your number in the process. Are you alright, doll?” he writes. You read it in his voice, subconsciously smiling at how his pet names aren't limited to face to face conversations.

You look at the bright screen in disbelief. He asked your exes mother for your number, meaning he wanted to stay in contact. Perhaps? One could only hope. You didn’t let your excitement get the better of you, however.

“Guess word travels fast. I’m fine, it should’ve happened sooner, honestly. I’m so sorry I got you involved”. You put your phone down, not expecting a reply after your apology. But the immediate ding had not only butterflies, but a whole zoo trampling around your stomach.

“If you’re going to be at your dorm over the summer, let me come visit sometime darling? Tommy offered to work more after your ex quit, so my plate is free”. He adds, much to your delight, “plus I think Sarah would love to see the campus.”

You smiled at the thought of showing the young girl around your college, she would be in awe of the library, you thought, remembering a glimpse of a large collection of books strewn across the table and shelf in the living room. You started to type a reply to Joel before another message comes through.

“and, for the record, those photos were hot, sweetheart”, he adds, a blush coloring your face, your gaze immediately drifting to the pocket of your bag where they lay, safe, sound, and where no one would be able to see, thank god.

“I suppose I could work something out, for you” you reply, a smiling creeping across your features before double texting, “you know, I have extra film in my dorm... for emergency”. Discarding your phone on the table in front of you, you watch the countryside melt into a blur, feeling the most relaxed and content you had in a while.

if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog! your feedback is always appreciated<3 thank you for reading

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #dom!joel miller #∘* ✧･ﾟ ➳ audie writes

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billgetsmewet · 9 months ago

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stop showing off that fucking car and come destroy my pussy

#bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel smut #2000s #early 2000s #2000s fashion #2000s emo #audi

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audisive · 11 months ago

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♪ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY. sad girl alternative

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: you've had a bad day, simon's there to fix it.

tags: comfort, crying, self-indulgent, fluff

Your head laid on the skin of his arm, your face pushed into the comfort of his chest. The sharp edges of your earrings – your favorite ones, he recalls – sank and dug into his skin meanly, but he couldn't care less. As disgusting as it sounds, it could not compare to the way his heart ached to protect your own when he hears you take sharp inhales just to exhale with a sob, sniffles occasionally there to accompany your weeping. It was anything but his priority with the way his arms tightened around you and the way he'd hoped it would be enough to ease your worries and take your pain away; pass it onto him if you must. Anything to make you feel better.

Oh, the things he'd be willing to but could not do to instead receive a painfully unfunny joke from you in the place of your sobs. He settles on wiping the tears off your face, knowing how it makes you feel when it dries and sticks to your skin uncomfortably. The small droplets were everywhere and increased with every passing minute, but he took the time to wipe them off one by one. Had you not been in agony, you would've been in awe at the way this gigantically scary man was being so gentle with you; it was one of the best reminders of how his heart belonged to you and how well he'd taken care of your own.

Simon holds you forever – at least that's what it feels like – and whispers sweet nothings into your ear to distract you, even just for a little bit. "'S fine," he reassures you, each word filled with promise and not an ounce of doubt. "You'll be okay, y'hear me? I got you." It's warm, and he still faintly smells of gun powder, mixed with the well-used cologne you'd bought him for his birthday last year. You don't pay any mind to the smell of tobacco lingering; you know it's not his.

You've long since learned – all thanks to him – to refrain from apologizing for your show of vulnerability and emotions. It leaves you guilty, still, eating you up at night with the knowledge of his uneasiness when it comes to emotions, but for him, nothing's better than learning to get over his fears with his one and only love. Love always makes us do things we don't want to, right?

His arms found the way to wrap themselves around you heavily like a weighted blanket hours ago and have continued to stay. It serves as a comfort for you, along with his words. In his sweater, his arms, his bed, his room. He's all you can see and all you can feel, but you're not complaining, and neither is he.

You calm down after a moment, letting your breathing grow steady while the wet spots of tears in his sweater dried up. Simon Riley hates to see you cry, but damn it if he can't be the one to comfort you.

"There's m' pretty girl," he whispers in that charmingly rough yet gentle voice of his, looking down at the way your lashes glisten with salty little tears when you find the strength to press your cheek to his chest instead of burying your face in the warm surface. "Feelin' better now, sweets?" He's so terribly sweet to and with you that you think you might cry again just because. You barely even nod, but you know he notices; he always does.

"Y'wanna talk about it?" His hand plants itself onto your back; it gives you a sense of stability. Everything about him is so large in a way that engulfs you whole, and it would terrify any sane person. Perhaps you aren't, not anymore, but you found the warmth and comfort of your home in him. He kisses your forehead without so much as a pause when you shake your head. "A'right, we'll jus' stay here, then."

And stay, you do, cuddled up against him. It doesn't take long before all the crying takes its toll on you, your head starts to hurt, and your eyelids start to give up. Before you know it, you're pulled into the deep depths of unconsciousness. It's too early into the night; you've skipped two meals, and you've worked yourself near death. You know full well that you'll wake up with a raging headache after crying yourself to sleep, too. You'll wake up too early in the morning; your muscles will be sore, and you're still starving. You might as well pass out immediately after waking up.

Still, you sleep at ease and without worry. Why would you not? Simon will be there to fix it. ♡

divider by @cafekitsune !

#౨ৎ simon !#୨୧ audi's works !#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #comfort #cod x reader #fluff #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #it's been a bad week #and the week's barely started

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inkblot-inc · 1 year ago

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Skitch totally gets Wanda into Animal Crossing. They mostly just liked it for the fishing and bug hunting, but Wanda? Oh she loves the customization.

I can see Skitch playing Animal Crossing casually and then showing it to Wanda one day like, "check this out really quick" and her getting stuck on all the villagers and ambience they're passing by trying to get to the museum.

"That deer's really cute"

"Oh, that's Bruce, he's pretty chill. I'm probably gonna evict him soon."

"What? Why???"

"Eh, he just rubs me the wrong way."

---

"Are those cherries in your trees?"

"Yeah, my island started with those. I need to get rid of these weeds tho."

*realizes that their standing in a cluster of weeds and not tall grass* "why are there so many???"

---

I wanna say that Skitch's island is well looked-after and they are pretty proud of how it's coming along, but things like weeds get overlooked sometimes. It's an "out of sight or of mind" kinda thing, but it never gets too egregious.

But this just spirals for Wanda after she decides to check the game out herself. I feel like her island is very aesthetic™️ and pretty maintained. Wanda also plays casually, but she keeps things in order. She needs to have peach trees, and she must have Shino on her island.

Wanda's assistant, Mandy, is also an avid player of AC, so I can see her giving Wanda tips and trading stuff often. I feel it in my heart of hearts.

Also, every time Skitch visits Wanda's island, they leave behind a little gift for her, probably by her house. This ranges from innocuous nonsense like a bag of weeds to something Wanda was actually looking for.

not you reminding me that I have ACNH on my switch- 😂

#rough cut diamonds #skitch introducing wanda to animal crossing on a whim #like just look at all these fish i caughtttt #and wanda's still stuck on audie's cute little dress that she saw earlier-#she needs all the furniture in her house to go together thematically #and she actually keeps track of what her other villagers would wear/like/use #mandy is ecstatic to hear that wanda's gotten into something she knows a lot about and is totally down to help on their off-time #i can only imagine the things that ensue when wanda and skitch visit each other's islands tho #i don't wanna say skitch has created a monster....but skitch may have created a monster #animal crosssing is a game that exists that i forgot that i own...#i must look back at the source material #but know that they both wanda and skitch enjoy it #wanda and skitch time #jeweler!wanda #skitch #wanda maximoff #metalworker!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #rcd.headcanons #ib/skitch #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

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cinematicgf · 2 years ago

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After Hours- 18+ dbf!joel

Summary: coming home from college and staying with your dad means that you get to see his attractive best friend, Joel, all the time, from nights in to neighborhood parties. but as the two of you start to see each other regularly when you’re home for college breaks, feelings start to get involved, all leading to one night in a hotel room.

Pairing: (pre-outbreak) dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smut, minors DNI, dad’s best friend Joel, age gap, fingering, pet names, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, reader in uni, drinking, no use of y/n, a little hint of fluff and lots of smut

~ 3.9k

A/N: hey again<3 this was suppose to be a drabble but i got carried away whoops. I hope you guys enjoy this work of dbf!joel smut and as always, your feedback is always welcome so please like, comment and reblog!

ps. I wrote this over a bottle of wine before going to friends place to drink another bottle of wine so apologies if there’s any mistakes. enjoy<3

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

I'd give it all just to hold you close

The morning sunlight seeps through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the hotel room in a soft glow. Your eyes crack open at the breech of your slumber, as you take in the unfamiliar setting. Usually, in a situation of waking up to unknown territory your heart would skip to your throat and panic would set in, if it weren’t for the warm body and heavy breathing encased close behind you. One large, muscular arm keeping you in place draped over your waist and an all too familiar hint of yesterdays cologne and musk relaxes you into a blissed-out morning attitude. Behind you, of course, is Joel. Joel of contractor and fourth of July barbecue fame in your neighborhood. The man who you had been crushing on since you were a teenager, and now, with your transition into university and spending time apart from your hometown and the residents, coming back meant that you have changed.

You left a naive teenager with a passion for history and came back as a young adult, ready and willing for what life through at you. And no one had noticed this change more than Joel. Taking extra-long glances at you as your back was turned whilst you were studying in the living room, taking peaks at your ass as you bent over to grab yourself a beer from the fridge, oh so kindly provided by your father, and oh god almighty, who could forget the pet names, anything from ‘honey’ to ‘pretty girl’ which, admittedly, use to just be a friendly affirmation of care from the older man, but now sent an electric shock of arousal straight to your core.

There was one slight problem to both of your developing feelings was the Joel was your father’s best friend. Although you and your father were somewhat close, after your mother had decided to bail and your new slutty stepmother had been brought into the mix of your home life, your not-so-subtle feelings of despise toward the woman were apparent. Of course, you wanted your dad to be happy but CMON... did it have to be with Slutty Steph who flirted with quite literally every man who came within a 3-mile radius of the woman?

In your trips back from university to home over the past six months, your “friendship” with Joel had grown into the two of you flirting back and forth with hearty banter which always led to a filthy comment from either of you- (“What would my father think if I told him, you were just checking out my tits, old man” you shot at him with a smirk. “I would simply tell him his darling little girl was wearing these low-cut shirts only when she knew his best friend was coming over”, he retorted, his breath hot in you ear as he brought his hand up to grip your bare waist under your crop top.). Eventually the flirting turned to a sloppy make out sesh one night when your father had gone to bed early and left the two of you with a bottle and a half left of wine. After that night, every time you would come home from university, the two of you would secretly meet up, either to make out and explore each other’s bodies in the back of his truck, or to dip out of a neighborhood get together so he could have your up against a door, blocking anyone’s unwelcomed entry, as he held you with one huge hand under your thighs and another laced your waist, as he whispered the most filthy string of words known to mankind in your ear as you moaned softly as his cock twitched inside you and he fucked up into you at a brutal pace . Eventually, the hand on your waist would have to be brought up to your mouth to cover your moaning as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, the top of his large cock hitting your g-spot at just the right angle, this, accompanied by the leud sounds of slapping thighs and wet noises throwing you over the edge, with his hand still pressed to your mouth as you came, hard, party makeup and mascara running down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and shook in his arms as he fucked you through your high. It wouldn’t take long for his thrusting to get sloppy after you clench around him tight and he would cum deep inside you, holding you still as he stayed in your pussy, muttering praises of, “that’s my sweet girl, god almighty you did so well baby, squeezing me tight like that. Such a good girl for me, always”. This within itself almost made you come again, but soon enough, after he had gone limp and after a few more slow thrusts, the two of your would have to clean yourselves up and go back out to the familiar faces of your neighbors, pretending a man twice your ages and twice your size in height and muscle hadn’t just fucked you so hard against a bedroom door that your knees were now jello and the shirt you had changed into had a higher neckline to avoid suspicious glares at the many bitemarks and hickeys decorating your neck.

Joel, being the most eligible bachelor in the town, or so your high school friends commented one night when you were out smoking in her car on a university break, always had looks from women, mostly his own age, who were so eager to settle down with the respectable, stable (and ever so filthy) man. Sometimes you thought these little neighborhood parties your dad (and Joel too) would insist you come to were just ways that he could find someone and settle down finally. I guess everyone hoped so, or they hoped that they would be the one he would choose. I mean, with his structured face and messy brown curls, his patchy yet groomed beard, muscular arms, giant hands and not to mention the ever-present bulge in his jeans, all the grown woman in the neighborhood would swoon when he entered. He entertained their boring conversations about work and sometimes ever their husbands, but hell, you would never admit to the jealousy it made you feel. Sometimes, after one too many and a boiling of envy in your veins, you would retreat into the house of whichever neighbor had the honors of hosting and lay on the couch so as not to see the women drooling over the guy you were fucking on a regular basis. The one who was so handsome when he got down on his knees between your legs after racing to your fathers house, knowing he was at work. He would kiss and thrust his fingers into your tight hole until you came around them, back arching and moaning so loud you were surprised you didn’t get a noise complaint. The one who, afterwards, would tangle his hands in your hair as he pulled you onto his lap, feeling his achingly hard cock swell against you as your lips collided, sloppy and lovingly, tasting yourself on his tongue. The one who would whisper how sweet you tasted and who always praised you with a “good girl” after taking his cock so deep it would leave you aching for days.

When you were in the house, having the much needed lie down after your subtle (or so you thought) jealous outbreak, it wasn’t long before guess who wanders through the sliding door into the living room, which you’ve occupied. “Sweetheart…”, he drawls in a knowing tone, “Let’s get you to bed”. His voice is low as he leans against the door, one hand placed on his hip while the other rests on his thigh right next to where his jeans look awfully tight. Your jealousy is quickly forgotten in your drunken state, as you feel yourself get slightly wet from his muscular stance and understanding smirk. He noticed your absence and came looking; that’s gotta be something... right? “Why don’t you join me”, you coo, narrowing your eyes and moving your arm slightly to lean on your side, thus emphasizing your breasts in your lowcut shirt. He grins to himself, rubbing his bead as he adjusts his jeans around his crotch. “C’mon, then, bedtime for you”. He steps over. “Weeeeeeeee”, you exclaim as he picks you up bridal style, giggling the whole time. “Are you taking me for round two?”, you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and looking at him doe eyed. “You”, he gives you a kiss on the forehead once you are both halfway up the stair, “need to sleep it over, sugar”. He puts you down in a room and gently kisses your forehead again, “G’night pretty girl”, he whispers. You smile up at him, drunk and looking with such fascination at the attractive older man. “You’re the pretty one”, you whisper, before he chokes back a laugh and kisses you softly on the lips. “Get some sleep, sweetheart, I’ll check on you tomorrow”.

At first it had just seemed like simple fun. Two grown adults fucking around with each other when you came home from university every few weeks for a break. Despite being your dad’s best friend, Joel spent an ungodly amount of time with you, either when you were staying, and you two fucked in private, or when you were back at university, and you would receive those oh so delicious late night calls of him stroking himself, telling you he had been thinking about you and asking when you were coming home so he could taste how sweet you were again. You were glad your roommate had left earlier in the year, leaving the dorm to yourself, because your moans mixed with Joel’s filthy words of pleasure and praise as you rubbed your clit and eased two fingers inside of you while his hand gripped his cock had you both climaxing at the thought of each other and, to be frank, neither of you were very quiet about it. God, your fingers did nothing compared to having his cock inside you; hell, even his fingers.

“I miss you, doll, when are you back.”

“Joel… I was there last week”, you giggled, breathlessly after you came down from your hig.

“I know, I just miss you is all”, he smiled, rubbing his beard, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot actually, I just wanna make sure that uni is taking care of my sweet girl”.

After a few hours and a knowing of morning sleep deprivation because of the call carrying into the early hour of the dawn, you both hung up. You felt different, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of them. That is when you knew that, maybe, you had fucked up a little. It wasn’t just a casual meet and fuck when you were in town anymore. You were both thinking about each other when you were alone and when together, the sparks would fly. But… you couldn’t be in love with your father’s best friend. It was out of the question. Shit… what if he found out? What the hell would he do? You started to overthink and the more you did, you were drawn back to his words, “I miss you” “MY sweet girl”. You decided that you needed to talk to him, fuck it. He would know what to do, and there were only really two options of what could happen. You could tell him your feelings and he could laugh at you and shut it down, maybe even coming to the realization that you were indeed his best friend’s daughter and perhaps this was a bad idea; (despite how fucking incredible you looked when you were straddling him, leaned back a little to take him deeper as you bounced on his cock, riding him so good. He would often come back to that image late at night when he gripped himself and jerked at a rapid pace, pretending he was inside your tight hole). The other option was too exciting to even think about, but you knew it wasn’t exactly ideal… or that he would feel the same. “Sure, he misses you. He misses fucking you, is all”, you speculate to yourself. He is a grown ass man, he has been fucking women since before you were born, what makes you think he is going to want you? A third-year uni student who, may I reiterate, has been his father’s best friend for the better part of roughly seven years. You sigh to yourself as you sit in bed, your textbooks discarded to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry at the inevitable fate of your quick fling with Joel. You decided, fuck it, and sent Joel a text that you needed to talk to him.

And this all had led you here, lying in a hotel room in your university town with your dad’s best friend wedged behind you, naked and fast asleep. Despite your groggy state you think back to yesterday’s events. You had texted him in the morning, throwing your phone aside because of nerves but after the familiar ding a few minutes later, you took a peak and, low and behold, a message from Joel saying he would be there soon. Your nervy state only jumped at this, your uni town was two hours from home, and he was wiling to come today to talk. “Calm down” you told yourself, “It’s not going to go like that”. You laid back down, trying to ease your anxiety, before hopping in the shower to wash off all the unwanted nervousness and brace yourself for tonight. Late notice aside, he had been out front of your dorm by midafternoon, leaning against his truck, sunglasses and a t shirt stretching over the expanse of his chest, tight jeans (thank god for your sunglasses because lord forgive, your eyes immediate go there) and his arms folded. He grins upon seeing you, “There she is”, he chuckled pushing himself up from his truck and untucking his arms to greet you with a strong, warm hug. His cologne fills your senses, making you feel at home again, in his arms. He places a kiss to your forehead, opening the truck door for you as you both speed off away from the uni and through town.

Despite the nerves still kicking in your system, you start to make conversation.

“So, why come all the way down here”, you start, looking at his side profile from the passenger seat and god, if he doesn’t look beautiful. His strong nose and trimmed beard making up the artwork that is his face.

“Because you wanted to see me, sugar”, he replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, about that, how long are you staying, because this may take a little bit”. You stare down at your hands, fidgeting slightly in your seat.

“I got a hotel room in town, we can talk all night, doll” he chuckles, glancing at you quickly with a grin before returning his gaze to the road.

God, you wish you didn’t have this weight on your shoulder, you wish you could just get this over with and be tucked up in bed to cry yourself to sleep once his definite answer, that being, of course, that you two should end it, is said and finalized.

Once the two of you arrive at this hotel room it is early evening. The sun is caressing the outskirts of the horizon, flaming the coast, as your heart is rapidly thrumming in your chest. Joel kicks off his shoes and drops heavily on the couch provided by the room and you sit rigid on the arm, not daring to meet his gaze and not being able to utter a word as the nerves, not most insistent, claw at your throat. Joel notices and pushing himself into a sitting position, his thighs push apart of his hand falling between his legs as he watches you, waiting, his brow slightly furrowed as if he knows what is about to happen. Only then do you decide to meet his gaze. Fuck it, lets just get it over with.

“I want to, um, I wanted to talk about us”, you start, meeting his gaze briefly before your eyes return to your palm as your other hand rubs it. “And about what you said on the phone the other night”.

Joel is still looking at you, his brow has furrowed out of slight confusion, or what was that concern… maybe?

“I have found”, you begin again, slowly, not daring to look at him, focusing on a spot on the floor where the carpet meets the linoleum of the kitchen. Perhaps if you just get it all off your chest first without waiting for a response, you’ll feel better. “That I enjoy your company. I mean. Besides the sneaking away and fucking and video calls”, you say slowly. “I enjoy spending time with you at the parties and I find myself getting excited when I get a response from you over text, it’s just… maybe I’m delusional Joel but, I think I’m starting to have feelings. And trust me, I know that wasn’t the deal going into all this, and I know that I’m just a fuck to you and it’s thrilling, having that danger to a relationship, such as sleeping with your best friend’s daughter, but I can’t help it”, you voice is wavering and slightly speeding up to get this all over with quicker. You can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you continue, nevertheless. “So please, just tell me that you don’t want anything now and it can be over with. We can go to those shitty neighborhood parties and talk to each other as if nothing happened but please, Joel, if you don’t want this, tell me now.” A hint of a tear drips down your cheek as you finish your dramatic speech. Your heart is trying to break out of your chest and your hands shake slightly at his awaited response. You still don’t meet his gaze. He is still sitting in the same position, frowning slightly as he takes in your words, before he lets out a heavy sigh. A small tense silence engulfs the room.

“I feel the same”, he says, just barely a whisper. Your head whips around to finally meet his gaze. You look down at him from where you are perched on the side of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t realize sooner”, he continues, “especially after the call, and what I said to you. When you are gone, I really do miss you, doll, not just the sex, but… you”. He meets you gaze with a tired smile, and you can’t believe your ears. Your towns hottest, most eligible bachelor; the only guy who has made your heart jump like this and, for the record, the only guy who has actually made you come, has reciprocated feelings for you.

You smile lightly at him, “Really?” you choke out through unwanted tears which started at nerve crying turned into happy sobs. He chuckles, reaching his long arm to intertwine your finger with his, “C’mere babygirl”. You push yourself off the arm of the couch and slide into his lap. One hand laces around your waist while the other is on your thigh, holding you steady. His lips meet yours in a closed-mouth kiss. His hand on your waist travels up to tangle in your hair as he inhales a moan from you, using the opportunity to weave his tongue into your mouth, intertwining yours and his in a heated kiss as you grind down on his hardening cock. He pulls away to gaze at your blissed out face, lips swollen and plump, you smile at him through your daze of joy and love for the man in front of you. “My pretty girl”, he says, caressing the back of your hair, bring his hand around to cup your face and running his thumb over your kiss-drunk lips. You kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re mine, sweetheart, my gorgeous girl”. He uses his thumb to ease open your mouth before reconnecting your lips in a tongue and teeth clashing kiss. “I don’t care if your father finds out”, he says between hot kisses and your uncontrollable light moans, “you’re my girl and that is all that matters to me”. You feel the arousal warming your panties at his words, as he slips his hand from your thigh up your skirt. Feeling how wet you are makes him grin against your lips, “all for me?”, he whispers more so to himself. “All for you”, you confirm, gasping as he slips a finger through your wet folds. Collecting your arousal, he coats his fingers and slips them inside you. Gasping, you grab onto his shoulders for support, as he reconnects your lips with his. You bring your hand up to caress his face, as he pulls your body closer with the hand that’s not inside you. He swallows your moans as you ride his fingers. “Good girl, you’re doing so well for me baby. You’re taking my fingers so well”, he praises, pressing his forehead to yours as you both watch his fingers moving in and out. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten quickly, and you squeeze his fingers. Joel speeds up slightly, your mouth falling open as a string of moans and gasps escape you. “Joel, I’m—I’m gonna “. “That’s its baby, come for me”, Joel whispers, sending you over the edge as your head falls to his shoulders; your teeth meeting the skin there. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as he continues to move his fingers in and out slowly, riding out your high. When the stimulation gets too much, you bring your hand down to his, moving it out from inside you. You kiss him, ardently, as he brings both muscular arms to engulf you. When you both pull away for air, you notice your bitemark on his should. “Oh shit”, you run your hand over it, “I’m so sorry baby, heat of the moment I guess”, you breathe. He follows your gaze and chuckles, “Sweetheart, I didn’t even feel it”, he assures you, a cheeky, horny look decorating his features, “Besides, I’m sure that’s not going to be the first time tonight”, he chuckles. You roll your eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder as he hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he carries you to the hotel bed, lips nudging that sweet spot behind your ear.

The day, which had started out as unwanted nerves and hopelessness, as you mourned the inevitable death of your relationship with your dad’s best friend Joel, had ended so much better than you had expected. And as you feel asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his shallow breathing as one large hand was tucked around your waist, rubbing circles on your bare skin, you couldn’t help but smile. He was yours. Now and always.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #ellie williams #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #∘* ✧･ﾟ ➳ audie writes

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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

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Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: a wealthy older man with a starry-eyed younger woman — it’s a tale as old as time and a scene the saleswoman has seen countless times before … or is it?

The showroom gleams under harsh fluorescent lights, every surface polished to a mirror finish. Cars, sleek and expensive, are lined up like jewels in a case. The hum of quiet conversation fills the space, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the soft clink of champagne glasses.

It’s another day at the auto show, and the saleswoman, tall and sharp-eyed, watches it all with a thin veneer of polite disinterest. She’s been here long enough to know who’s serious and who’s just here to gawk.

She spots them before they even step into her section. The man is hard to miss — tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of commanding presence that makes people step aside without even realizing it. His suit is tailored to perfection, probably costs more than her monthly salary.

And then there’s the girl — no, the woman — beside him. You’re much younger, that’s clear. You look out of place, wide-eyed and excited like a kid in a candy store, dressed in something trendy but understated, a deliberate contrast to the man’s sophistication.

The saleswoman’s eyes narrow as she watches you both approach. She’s seen this before — older man, younger woman, the kind of relationship that’s all too common in these circles. She doesn’t have to guess who’s footing the bill here.

“They’re all stunning,” you say, your voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd as you walk beside the man. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Take your time,” the man says, his voice low, accented, and rich with an authority that’s clearly second nature to him. He’s smiling at you, and there’s a warmth there that the saleswoman finds almost disarming. Almost.

She steps forward, her professional smile firmly in place, and approaches the two of you. “Good afternoon,” she says, her tone perfectly neutral, though there’s an edge to it, just enough to make her feel superior in this little interaction. “Is there anything in particular you’re interested in today?”

You look up at the man, a slight question in your eyes, as if asking for permission to speak. The saleswoman notices this, of course, and it only confirms what she already thinks.

“The Porsche 911 S/T,” you say, your voice gaining a little confidence as you look back at her. “It’s — wow, it’s incredible.”

The saleswoman allows herself a small, condescending smile. Of course, you’d go for something flashy like that. “A beautiful choice,” she says smoothly. “Though it’s not currently available for sale. It’s more of a display model for now.”

You look disappointed, but before you can say anything, the man steps in. “Is that so?” He asks, his tone polite but firm. “And when will it be available?”

“Not for a few months, I’m afraid,” she replies, keeping her smile in place even as she feels a flicker of unease at the intensity in his eyes. “But we can certainly take your information and let you know the moment it is.”

You’re distracted by another car nearby — a sleek, silver Audi R8 — and the man follows your gaze. “Excuse me for a moment,” he says to the saleswoman, already moving toward the car that has caught your attention. She watches him go, a tightness forming in her chest.

You’re bending slightly, peering into the Audi’s interior, running your fingers over the smooth leather seats. The man is right behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, a gesture that’s both protective and possessive.

“What do you think of this one?” He asks, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. You smile, and it’s a real smile, the kind that makes your whole face light up.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice soft, almost reverent. “But I think I’m still in love with the Porsche.”

He chuckles, and the sound is deep, genuine. “You have good taste.”

The saleswoman doesn’t hear what you say next, but she sees the way you look up at him, like he’s the only person in the room. She almost rolls her eyes. Of course, you’re infatuated. Who wouldn’t be, with a man like that?

But there’s something else, something in the way he looks at you that makes her pause. There’s affection there, sure, but it’s more than that. It’s something deeper, more complicated.

He straightens up, leaving you to admire the Audi, and makes his way back to the saleswoman. She steels herself, ready to resume the dance of negotiation, but his next words take her by surprise.

“I want to buy the Porsche for my partner,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She blinks, momentarily thrown. “As I mentioned earlier, sir, it’s not for sale at the moment. But we can-”

“You misunderstand,” he interrupts, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet intensity. “I’m not asking if it’s for sale. I’m telling you I want to buy it.”

The saleswoman feels a prickle of irritation, but she keeps her expression neutral. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr …”

“Wolff,” he says, his voice steady. “Toto Wolff.”

The name rings a bell, and she stiffens slightly. Of course, she’s heard of him. Everyone in this business has. But she’s not about to let him walk all over her just because he’s some big shot.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wolff, but even for you, the car isn’t available. It’s a prototype, and it won’t be released for sale until-”

He cuts her off with a low laugh, and there’s something almost dangerous in the sound. “For me,” he says slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a child, “they’ll make it available.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but the words die in her throat. There’s a look in his eyes that makes it clear this isn’t a man who’s used to hearing the word no. And she realizes, with a sinking feeling, that he’s right. If Toto Wolff wants that car, he’s going to get it.

The saleswoman swallows hard, her professional composure beginning to crack around the edges. “I’ll need to speak with my manager,” she says finally, her voice losing some of its earlier confidence.

“Please do,” he replies smoothly, his gaze flicking back to where you’re still admiring the Audi, completely unaware of the tension playing out behind you.

She turns on her heel, making her way to the back office with quick, clipped steps. The nerve of him, she thinks, but even as she seethes, she knows what the outcome will be. No one says no to someone like Toto Wolff.

As she waits for her manager to confirm the inevitable, she casts a glance through the glass wall of the office, watching you and him from a distance. You’re laughing at something he’s said, your hand resting on his arm, and for a moment, the saleswoman feels a strange, unwelcome pang of something close to envy.

It’s not just the money or the power that he has — though there’s plenty of that — it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters. Like he would move mountains just to see you smile.

The manager finally appears, a mix of excitement and nerves on his face as he hurries over to speak with Toto. The saleswoman stays back, watching as they exchange words, her earlier confidence completely drained. She knows what’s coming, and sure enough, after a few minutes, the manager gestures for her to come forward.

“Mr. Wolff,” the manager says, his tone obsequious, “we’d be more than happy to arrange the purchase of the Porsche for you. It’s not something we typically do, but in your case, we can make an exception.”

Toto gives a small nod, as if this is exactly what he expected. “Good,” he says, then glances over at you, still absorbed in the Audi. “I’ll take care of the details later. For now, I’d prefer if my partner remains unaware of the purchase.”

The manager nods quickly. “Of course, of course. Discretion is our priority.”

The saleswoman feels a fresh wave of irritation as the manager all but trips over himself to please Toto. But what bothers her even more is the realization that she was wrong. This isn’t a simple sugar relationship, despite what she first thought. There’s something real here, something that makes her uncomfortable in ways she can’t quite put into words.

As Toto walks back over to you, the manager gives the saleswoman a sharp look, silently instructing her to follow his lead. She pastes on her best smile, swallowing her pride, and follows after him.

You don’t notice the shift in the atmosphere when Toto returns to your side. You’re too engrossed in the car, asking him questions about its specs and design, your enthusiasm infectious. The saleswoman watches the two of you interact, trying to reconcile the easy, genuine affection she sees with her initial assumptions.

“So,” Toto says, leaning in a little closer to you, “if you could choose any car here, which one would it be?”

You bite your lip, clearly torn, but finally, you sigh. “I know it’s silly, but I keep coming back to the Porsche. It’s just … it’s perfect.”

His smile widens, and the saleswoman feels a pang of something she refuses to name. “Then the Porsche it is,” he says softly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

You laugh, a little embarrassed. "Toto, you can't just buy it because I like it. It's not even for sale."

He chuckles, a warm, deep sound that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. “You’d be surprised what’s possible.”

The saleswoman shifts uncomfortably, watching as Toto brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a moment too long to be purely casual. You smile up at him, oblivious to everything except the man in front of you.

She clears her throat, forcing herself back into the conversation. “Actually, we can make arrangements for the Porsche. If you’d like, we can finalize the details and set up delivery.”

You blink, surprised. “Really? But I thought-”

Toto smiles, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Then you throw your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest as you mumble a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

The saleswoman watches, the professional smile on her face feeling more like a grimace now. She doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand you or him, but she knows she was wrong.

You pull back, looking up at Toto with a softness in your eyes that’s almost too much to bear. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper.

“Just be happy,” he murmurs back, his voice tender in a way that makes the saleswoman want to look away.

And for a moment, she does. She turns her gaze to the gleaming cars, the reflections of the showroom lights bouncing off their polished surfaces. When she looks back, you’re both still there, lost in each other, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

The saleswoman feels a strange, hollow emptiness settle in her chest as she turns to finalize the sale, realizing that perhaps, despite everything, this wasn’t about money or power at all.

Perhaps it was just about love.

***

The estate in Oxfordshire is nothing short of palatial, its sprawling grounds stretching out in every direction, bordered by neatly trimmed hedges and ancient oaks. The driveway is long and winding, leading up to a mansion that looks like it could have been lifted straight out of a Jane Austen novel — grand, elegant, with an air of timeless sophistication.

The saleswoman sits in the passenger seat of the delivery truck, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. She’s never been nervous about a delivery before, but then again, she’s never delivered to someone like Toto Wolff before.

Beside her, the driver is humming along to a tune on the radio, completely at ease as they turn onto the estate’s private road. She glances at the rearview mirror, catching sight of the Porsche 911 S/T, pristine and gleaming, with an oversized red bow affixed to the roof. It looks absurd, she thinks, a toy fit for a princess.

It takes several minutes to reach the front of the house, the tires crunching softly over the gravel. The saleswoman feels a knot tighten in her stomach as they pull to a stop.

She’s here to oversee the delivery, to make sure everything goes smoothly, but part of her wonders if this is all a colossal waste of time. Surely, she could’ve sent someone else. But she’d insisted on coming herself—perhaps out of some twisted sense of curiosity, or maybe it was just her bruised pride.

The driver cuts the engine, and there’s a brief moment of silence before the door to the mansion opens. Toto steps out first, his movements unhurried, as if he’s in no rush at all. And then you appear beside him, your hand lightly resting on his arm as you walk out together.

“Here we go,” the driver mutters, giving her a nod before he hops out to start the unloading process.

The saleswoman takes a deep breath, composing herself before she steps out of the truck. Her heels sink slightly into the gravel as she approaches, her professional smile back in place. Toto greets her with a nod, his expression unreadable, while you give her a warm, if somewhat shy, smile.

“I hope the drive wasn’t too difficult,” Toto says, his voice smooth and polite, but there’s a hint of something more behind his words. An expectation that everything will, of course, be perfect.

“Not at all, Mr. Wolff,” the saleswoman replies quickly, her smile tightening. “It was a pleasure, really.”

You step forward, your eyes wide with excitement as you look past her to the truck. “Is it …” you ask, your voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

The driver is already lowering the truck’s ramp, and as the Porsche comes into view, you let out a small gasp. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, taking a step closer, your hand still clutching Toto’s arm. “I can’t believe it’s really here.”

Toto watches you with a soft smile, the kind of smile that the saleswoman has started to recognize as reserved only for you. “I told you it would be,” he says quietly, as if this moment is just as special for him as it is for you.

The saleswoman clears her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “We took extra care during the transport,” she says, trying to regain some control over the situation. “Everything is exactly as it was when it left the showroom.”

“Thank you,” Toto says, but his focus is already back on you as you approach the car, your fingers brushing over the sleek lines of the Porsche as if you’re afraid it might disappear if you touch it too firmly.

You circle the car slowly, taking it all in, and for a moment, the saleswoman feels like an intruder in this private moment. She watches as you turn back to Toto, your eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I just want you to be happy.”

The saleswoman averts her gaze, the tenderness of the moment making her uncomfortable. She’s seen plenty of couples over the years, but there’s something about the way you and Toto interact that feels … different.

It’s not just the age difference, though that’s part of it. It’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and the way you look at him, like he’s your anchor in a storm.

The driver interrupts her thoughts as he finishes unloading the car. “All done here,” he says cheerfully, handing the keys over to Toto with a grin. “She’s all yours.”

Toto takes the keys with a nod of thanks, but instead of pocketing them, he holds them out to you. “Would you like to take her for a spin?”

Your eyes widen, and you laugh, a light, joyful sound that echoes in the evening air. “Now? I haven’t even driven a car like this before!”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he replies, his tone teasing yet encouraging. “And I trust you completely.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the car and then back at Toto. The saleswoman can see the internal debate playing out on your face — excitement warring with nervousness. But then, with a deep breath, you take the keys from him, your fingers brushing against his as you do.

“Okay,” you say, your voice firming with determination. “Let’s do it.”

The saleswoman watches as you climb into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and running your hands over the steering wheel like you’re trying to familiarize yourself with every inch of the car. Toto takes the passenger seat beside you, and for a brief moment, the saleswoman catches a glimpse of his hand resting on your knee, a gesture that’s both reassuring and intimate.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the driver nudges her, motioning toward the truck. “We should get going,” he says, glancing over at the car. “Looks like they’ve got everything under control.”

But the saleswoman doesn’t move. She’s rooted to the spot, watching as you and Toto pull away from the estate, the Porsche purring softly as it glides down the driveway. There’s something about the scene that feels almost cinematic, like she’s watching a moment that she’s not supposed to be a part of.

The car disappears around a bend in the road, and the saleswoman finally exhales, not realizing she’s been holding her breath. She turns back to the driver, who’s looking at her with mild curiosity.

“Everything okay?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

She forces a smile, pushing down the strange mix of emotions churning in her chest. “Yeah,” she says, though the word feels hollow. “Everything’s fine.”

They load back into the truck, the engine roaring to life as they begin the long drive back to the showroom. The saleswoman stares out the window, her thoughts racing, replaying the scene over and over in her mind.

She tries to tell herself that it’s just another delivery, just another rich couple flaunting their wealth. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t shake the image of the way Toto looked at you, like you were his entire world.

The driver’s voice cuts through her thoughts as he asks, “So, you think they’re the real deal?”

She turns to look at him, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, a guy like him, a girl like her … you think it’s more than just the money?”

The saleswoman hesitates, her fingers curling around the edge of her seat. She wants to dismiss it, to laugh it off and say that of course it’s just about the money. But the words stick in her throat, refusing to come out.

“Yeah,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended. “I think it is.”

The driver nods, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and they fall into silence once more. But the saleswoman can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, that this delivery has left her with more questions than answers.

As they drive away from the estate, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the road. The saleswoman stares at them, lost in thought, wondering what it must feel like to be loved the way Toto loves you.

She knows she’ll never have an answer to that question, but as the truck rumbles down the road, she can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — there’s more to life than the things she’s always taken for granted.

And for the first time in a long time, she finds herself longing for something she can’t quite put into words.

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venusstorm · 2 months ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲

Trucker!Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: 18+, daddy kink, pet names, breeding, unprotected sex, blowjobs, public sex, fucking while driving?? Little bit of fluff at the end xoxo

A very fun roadtrip with Joel

w/c: 3.3k

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*

"What did I tell you about sticking those legs up on my damn dash," Joel mumbles.

You shoot him a playful scowl, wiggling your feet tauntingly. His eyebrows furrow in irritation, his eyes stealing annoyed glances as you disobeyed his orders. "I'm serious bug, it's not safe."

You pout, slinking your legs back down to the ground of his semi-truck. "M'sorry," you whisper.

A cigarette hangs loosely from his lips as the summer breeze makes its way inside. You hated the scent of those lousy sticks but he always made sure to let the fresh air in just for you.

You smile lazily as he switches gears, a soft grunt escaping his lips. He mumbles something under his breath, cursing at the Audi who attempted to cut him off.

But you hardly register the situation, eyes glued on the way his tank top hangs low revealing black ink tattoos and a tuft of chest hair. His arms were bursting from the sleeves of his flannel, every muscle dripping with definition.

Joel smirks to himself, rubbing his unruly beard as he glances at your distant expression. He knows exactly what you're doing. That glossy look in your eyes, the way your hands are wedged between your thighs. He knows precisely when his girl needs him, and right now you're practically pleading. He could see your brain churning, undoubtedly thinking of him.

"Wettin' my beard so pretty, baby. You see that? See what you've done to me?" He pulled back from your thighs, his beard stained and wet. You moaned his name, thrashing against his grip as he gazed pridefully at your soaking cunt. "C'mon, pretty baby. Let go for me, squirt all over daddy's face. He suckled your clit, balls heavy and thighs grinding against the sheets as he fought back the urge to cum. "Taste so pretty, baby. Fuck, gettin' me all messy. See how much I'm leaking? That's it, open those pretty eyes and look at what you’ve done."

"Been staring at me awfully long, ain't ya?" Joel grins.

You suck in a breath, quickly turning and facing the window. "M'not," you mutter.

"Ah ah, don't get all shy." He puts out his cigarette and you can hear the amusement in his tone as he reaches for your hand, breaking it from its position between your thighs.

You're too embarrassed to speak, afraid he'd tease you for getting turned on by something as mundane as watching him drive. Quickly, you cross your legs, "It's nothin'" you murmur.

"Nothin'?" He questions.

Joel raises an eyebrow, his right hand sinking towards the waistline of your denim shorts. They hugged your hips perfectly, a soft blue hue that left your asscheeks hanging free. He loved when you sat perched on his lap with them on, nuzzling into his neck as he palmed your ass.

You don't object as he leisurely pulls down your zipper, his hand sneaking down your groin. Instinctively you wrap your arms around his, grinding into his palm slowly. "Joel...you're driving."

He traces his thumb across your slit, groaning softly when he feels your wetness against your thighs. His eyes face the road, your sweet sounds are the only indication he has of what's going on beside him.

Your eyes flutter closed as he slips a finger inside of you, rubbing against your folds until you shiver. "You feeling needy, baby?" He coos. "Want my fingers stuffed in that pretty cunt? Cmon, baby, it's alright. You don't think I know how badly you wanna get fucked sitting all cute in that passenger seat? Always begging me to tag along just to sit there and hold your legs all tight together. Gawking at me and looking away as if I can't tell how desperate you are."

"P- pull over, Joel," you whine.

He scoffs before pressing hard against your clit. You shout, nails digging into his skin.

He remains stoic, a sick grin on his face as you refuse to let go of his arm. "Did I hurt you? Is your button all swollen and hard now? Daddy’ll kiss it better for you, pretty baby."

You nod against his arm, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Hurts, daddy."

He doesn't want to let up. You look so pretty grinding against his hand, your nipples hard against the Shania Twain shirt you cut up and hemmed. Your soft moans turn into full-out pleads as he strokes your clit. Coddling her until your eyes meet the back of your head.

You can hardly sit still, selfishly needing him to pull off the road so you can have him entirely. "P-pullover Joel. Please."

He knows neither of you will be satisfied until he's balls deep inside of you, so he does what he has to.

"Shh, I know, baby. But I've gotta work." Tears nearly fall down your cheeks as he takes his hand back. You pulsate against nothing, whining from the loss of his touch.

"That's not fair!" You shout.

He replies calmly. "Yea? You know what's not fair, Princess? Gettin’ me all worked up when I'm supposed to be focused on crossing state lines. Now sit back until we reach Tennessee."

Your jaw drops at his words, taking it personally. "Fine," you huff.

•••

One hour. It had been one hour of complete silence and you were going insane. Joel had lit another cigarette, the smoke dancing its way out the cracked window.

You were sulking. Angry that he had teased you and left you high and frustrated. A word hasn't escaped your lips in miles and while Joel still stole glances your way, your eyes were glued to the window.

"White..." you mumbled, counting the 25th milky white cow you saw grazing the fields. It was the quickest way to pass time since being entertained by Joel was clearly off the table.

He perks up upon hearing your voice, wishfully thinking your grudge was finally over. He hadn't intended on leaving you hanging, but the moment he felt your walls clench around his fingers he knew he had to stop. If it was up to him, he would've pulled off on the side of the highway and pulled you right onto his lap. Slide down those useless shorts and sit your pretty self on his cock. He could spend hours watching you drip down his length, your teeth sinking into his shoulder as he thrusts into you…

But he has a deadline. A small window of time to get this cargo to its destination.

You stare at the next set of cows, adding up to 28 white ones, and...shit. "A brown cow!" You squeal. "And it's fluffy! Joel, look at that. I've never seen a–"

You're cut off by the sound of heavy laughter. There's a lopsided grin on his face as he listens to your excited tone. He smirks, "It's very cute, bug."

"That was an accident," you grumble. "M'still not speaking to you."

"Yea? And how's that workin' out for ya?"

"I just thought the cow was cute goddamnit, Miller." You sink into the seat, staring daggers into the side of his head. "You're so annoying," you mumble.

"Speak up, baby. Couldn't quite catch that."

"I said, you're annoying."

He remains silent, licking his lips and gripping the wheel a bit harder. You eye him closely, your gaze traveling down to the tent forming in his pants. The corner of your lips up turns into a slight smile as he palms his erection, shifting his jeans around uncomfortably. "Damn it," he murmurs.

"Joel," you call out.

"Yes?" His tone is pained, voice airy with the need to bury himself deep inside of you. Fuck, just hearing you say his name made his length twitch against his thigh. No matter how upset you were, you still said his name with all the adoration in the world.

"I really gotta pee. It's been hours."

You watch as he checks his dashboard for the time, eyes widening after realizing just how long the two of you had been driving in utter silence. He shoots you an apologetic look, "Alright, bug. But you gotta be quick."

Joel drives until the next rest stop approaches, pulling into the parking lot that oversaw a grassy park area. A few cars scattered the lot, but otherwise, it was nearly deserted. You don't say anything as you hop down, slamming the door before he can get a word in.

Nobody ever slams his doors.

Hastily he unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the door, and takes long strides to your side of the truck. "You're still mad?" he huffs. He catches your arm before you can walk away, grabbing your hand and practically slamming you against his chest.

His eyes narrow as he stares down at you, daring you to rebuttal. But you're still forcing him into the silent treatment, lips shut tight as he waits for you to speak.

"Still not speaking to me, pretty baby?" He cocks his head, lips reaching dangerously close to yours. You shrug your shoulders, carelessly turning away from him.

A fresh wave of anger washes over him and suddenly crossing state lines was the last thing on his mind.

"Y'know what you do to me?" He grabs your hand, placing it on top of his growing erection. "M'so full sweetheart and it's all your goddamn fault. Fuck, you feel that? Practically dripping for you, Princess." He looms over you, watching the way your lips form into a desperate pout.

"But you were only worried about yourself. So inconsiderate," he hums. You whine as he lifts your chin, kissing your forehead softly despite the frustration gleaming in his eyes.

"M'sorry daddy. I just...I needed you."

"And you don't think I need you too? Couldn't stop thinking about burying myself between those legs. I Need you so badly, baby."

"I'm sorry," you whimper.

"Shh, no more sorry's. You know how to apologize correctly."

You nod, sinking to your knees without further questioning. He allows you to do all the work, unzipping his denim jeans until his thick length bobs free. He grasps his throbbing size and spits on it, meshing it with the precum dripping from his pulsating head. "Make it up to me," he states calmly, towering over your form.

He takes his length, slapping you across the face roughly. His cum stains your skin and mercilessly he repeats the action until he's practically pulsating with need. He's leaking viciously, drooling across your cheeks. "Two taps against my leg if you can't take it," Joel mumbles. "Otherwise, M'gonna fill that pretty mouth until my seeds drippin’ down it."

He palms the back of your head, pushing you down against his length until you gag. He adores the way you tried your hardest to make him fit, drool and precum coating your chin as you whimper against him. You even open your mouth wider to suck his balls, whining when you realize you couldn't fit both.

He laughs at your poor attempt to wrap your lips around them before finally putting you out of your "misery." He smirks, "Let me help you, sweetheart." You groan as he stuffs his balls into your mouth, sputtering out a small "thank you."

"Look at my pretty baby," he grunts. Joel grabs your cheek, squeezing it tightly. "Fuck. You like sucking daddy's fat cock, don't you? Just asking for someone to walk by and catch you suckin' me off. Bet that's what you want, isn't it, baby? You want to get caught? Show everyone how much of a fucking cockslut you are for me."

Joel throws his head back, leaning against the warm exterior of his truck. Your mouth feels so good around him, enrapturing him in a blissful warmth that only you could provide him. Words escaped his mind as you went deeper, uncaring of how messy you were being.

"B-baby," he shudders. "Just like that. M'not gonna last. You gotta stop. Fuck."

You take that as a sign to go slower and deeper, pausing for a few seconds before continuing your descent. You loved when Joel’s eyes rolled backwards, his hand desperately pushing you as far as you could go. He was always vocal, cursing and grunting all while murmuring your name in between. It didn’t matter that he was standing outside at the peak of sunset. He was gonna let everyone know exactly how you made him feel.

"I didn't tell you to slow down," he groans.

Before you can make out an apology, Joel slams your face against the base of his cock. He thrusts into you, fucking your face and unleashing all the pent-up frustration in his system. "Gonna let me fuck my seed down that tight throat? I'll make it all nice and pretty for you, baby. Fuck, M'cumming baby. S’all for you.”

Ropes of cum spurt into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You whine as he pulsates against your tongue, his teeth grinding together as he fights the urge to shout. So full for you, baby. Hurts. “Take daddy's load. Make me feel better, sweetheart."

You drink him down until he's spent, smiling happily as he slips his cock from your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him clean.

He carefully tucks himself back into his jeans, paying little attention to how it was dripping on his front. "Beautiful, sweetheart. That was perfect."

He crouches down, swiping his thumb across your lip before kissing you gently. "Now let's get you all cleaned up. Just wait right here for me.”

You watch as he jogs into the building to ask for the restroom key. When he returns you’re in a blissful daze, smiling happily as he places another sweet kiss to your lips. He takes your hand, helping you up and leading you towards the bathroom. You nuzzle into his side, fearful that people would see you in such a vulnerable state.

"Look who's all shy, now." Joel laughs. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, drawing you in close until the two of you make it to the bathroom. He locks the door behind him, taking you towards the sink and wetting a paper towel.

"Will you get in trouble?" Your voice is hushed, the repercussions of your teasing coming into full perspective.

"Been working for them nearly half my life," he shrugs. "A little tardiness won't cost me the job."

You nod, still feeling the need to apologize. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, bug. I know how you get when you're all worked up."

You break out into a smile, "And how do I get?"

Joel scrunches his eyebrows, his eyes glimmering with warmth. "Mean."

"I'm not mean!" You giggle, playfully punching his side. He swats your hand away, bringing the warm paper towel to your face. He wipes you clean, placing one last kiss on your lips before throwing it away.

"Oh, you're very mean. Hurts my heart sometimes." His voice drops low and quickly you recognize the dark gleam in his eyes.

"Can you believe how mean you are to me, baby? Don't know what I've done to deserve it."

"Joel..."

"Yes?" He hums, closing his eyes briefly before making his move. He flips you around, pushing you against the counter and forcing you to stare into the mirror.

"Hate when you're mad at me, baby. But you know what I hate more? When you shut me out. You get all mean and suddenly I'm scrambling to make you feel better."

"M'sorry, daddy. I don't mean to make you feel that way." You stare into your reflection, meeting his heated gaze.

"Thought you were smart, didn't you, baby? I have to pee." He mocks your remark. "Knew what you were planning before you even said it," he scoffs. "But I'll still give my pretty baby whatever you want."

He unzips his denim once again, his length springing free. It looks heavier this time, veins inching their way up to the tuft of hair at his shaft. "Come on. Take it."

Your shorts slide to your ankles as he guides himself to your entrance. "Look at that..." he murmurs. "You're leaking' baby. Made a mess all over yourself. No wonder you were so whiny, been gushing the whole ride."

The moment his glaring tip breaches your entrance, you're a mess. Whining and begging him for more.

"Tell me how much you love my cock."

"I love your cock, daddy. Love how thick you are, fuck." You repeat the simple sentence until he's fully inside of you. He's so huge, spreading you wide until you have no choice but to bite your bottom lip to hold back your moans.

His hand rests on your hips while the other reaches around your front and slides beneath your shirt. He grips your tits, "You feel so good, baby. You feel me inside of you? Can hardly move, grippin' me so hard."

His hips slam against your ass. "Look at me. Fucking look at me." Joel lifts your head, forcing you to stare into the mirror as you feel yourself begin to unravel. You knew you wouldn't last long, not with how he's murmuring into your ear about how he wants to take you apart and paint every inch of your skin with his seed. His beautiful baby.

You squeal as he slaps your ass and rubs it gently to mend the pain. The sting lingers as his fingers make their way to where you’re conjoined. He groans as he feels your wetness, drawing it down your thighs and back up towards your now parted lips. “Good girl, already knew what to do,” he coos.

Joel can’t get enough of you. His free hand makes its way around your entire body. Down your throat, caressing your breasts as they fought to be released from your top, guiding your hips as you bounced against him. You were entirely his.

"Gonna fill you with my cum, pretty baby. So next time you get all stupid and desperate you can just spread those legs in the seat and fuck yourself with it. "Rub your clit for me, baby. You're almost there. I can feel it."

His heavy balls slap against your ass and if you had a camera, you’d see just how much Joel was leaking for you. Pre-cum coated his base, so much that he couldn’t tell the difference between yours and his. It dripped down the tuft of hair around his base and down his thighs. “Driving me crazy, sweetheart,” he moans.

Tilting your head back, he slams his mouth against yours.

And you lose it.

You gasp as your high hits, thrashing against his hold as his base becomes coated in your spend. "That's it, baby. I've got you. I've always got you.” He fucks you through his orgasm, groaning your name as he fills you up as promised.

He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating your body and sending another wave of pleasure through you. You shake against his hold, mumbling his name repeatedly until you finally feel him pull out.

“C’mere.” His soothing voice vibrates against your ears. He scoops you up, prepared to clean you once again. You hardly recalled the rest, in and out of sleep as he washed the both of you. Joel carried you back to the truck, legs swinging around his waist while he rubbed your back. You remembered waking up briefly as he buckled you in. He kissed your forehead softly before making his way to the driver's seat to which he leaned over for one last kiss.

You were addictive and the absolute love of his life.

He smiles happily as he continues his drive, the pastures of cows greeting you two once again. Your tiny snores fill the air, so quiet that he refuses to put on music just to hear them. Joel’s eyes wander to the open field, crinkling with joy as he spots another brown cow.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #trucker!joel #joel x you #Joel miller fan club #the roads long but his dicks longer

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onmyyan · 3 months ago

Note

hi again i'm the Anon who asked if you take commisions only or requests as well. I love your writing style<3

Soo could you write about Batmom reader, where reader took care of bruce's children as her own. But then bruce gets a mistress, reader still stays becuz of the kids but when everyone started to become cold to her and insult her ' X (mistress) is better mom then you ever were' she leaves gonthem. Then everyone realises she (mistress) was just after their money. They go to batmom's room to apologize only to find it empty. They try to find her everywhere but couldn't. And finally when they do, reader rejects them since she was having the time of her life without responsibilty but gets kiddnapped by the batfam?

Honestly i wanted to commision but i'm flat broke and i'm too busy studying to work and on top of that i don't have my own phone (i use my dad's old laptop) soo yeah... I hope you consider this.

A/N: Loooove this request thank you for sending it in <3 fem reader yandere themes lmk if you want a part two

The (L/n)'s were a wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, right up there with the Wayne's when it came to power over the city, the two families were in business together which is why when Bruce Wayne personal attorney came to you with a marriage proposal, you weren't surprised.

A marriage of convenience. You thought you knew what this would entitle, you knew this wasn't out of love, that this was required of you, it had nothing to do with what you actually wanted, but you were dutiful and signed, inking your name on the paper felt like a deal with the devil.

Bruce hadn't bothered to officially meet you until the day of the wedding, it was beautiful and well done but lacking any form of love of affection, CEOs and other rich folk you didn't recognize filled the pews, the ring felt cold when he slipped it on, his vows perfectly rehearsed, and not an ounce of warmth in his eyes, you knew that night you should have annulled the marriage, but something made you hold on, something your mother had said to you as the makeup artist turned you into the visage of a bride.

"You'll learn to love each other, your father and I did after all." And she wasn't lying, your parents married for convenience as well but had grown to love one another, so maybe you could do the same?

A year after the nuptials Dick Grayson is thrust into your life. Haley's circus was famous in Gotham for its incredible death defying shows, but on this night death would walk the stage, taking with them Dick Grayson's parents in a horrible display, You and Bruce had consoled the boy for only a moment before Bruce was talking to the officers, he'd decided Dick was coming home with you, of course without asking your opinion, but it didn't matter, you felt such pity and grief for the boy, it made perfect sense to you, he was shut down for the first few months, he called you by your name and you had no problem with it, making it clear you never wanted to try and replace his mother, the ice between you two melted one day, one kind word at a time, he couldn't help but confide in you about school or his friends, because you were more emotionally there than Bruce was.

Like the night you caught him sneaking out, a packed bag in hand and the keys to one of Bruce's many cars in his hand. Instead of yelling for Bruce or Alfred you simply smiled at him, "you should take the audi, it's the safest car here."

"..You're not going to try and stop me?"

You shake your head no, still offering that kind smile.

"You know yourself best Dick, if you're unhappy here I won't stop you from finding your peace." He took a moment before tossing you the keys and reluctantly making his way back inside.

You find out about Batman because of Dick. He'd come home with some nasty bruises and it wouldn't take long to put two and two together. Them both being missing at the same time, Dick started to pull away from you, one night, after hours of trying to get to sleep in a bed much to big for one body, your legs decided a walk was necessary, the halls were dark and quiet, giving the manor an eerie air, quietly you walked the long hallways intending on stopping by the library, as you turned the corner you seen Dick in a hidden elevator, the doors just slamming shut as your eyes tried to register what was there. Seconds after the doors close a wall appears, as if nothing was ever there. It's not long after that you see a brief news clip of the caped crusader and his new sidekick, because the longer you stared at the screen, the more familiar they began to look, that dead tight lipped scowl on Batman's face, it was one you'd had the pleasure of looking at for the past few years.

That night you confronted Bruce, he seemed surprised you'd figured it out, but he didn't deny it. Simply saying, "It's late (Y/n), get some sleep."

You nearly divorced him then and there for endangering a child the way he was, but after a moment of thought, you realized Dick would need a real parent around so you stayed, making Bruce swear to be careful.

Jason comes next and he takes to you a lot faster than Dick. He craved the warmth you offered, you two had inside jokes and a closer relationship than him and Bruce, but that all changes the day he dies. You're broken, a ghost haunting the manor with your presence, and Bruce is no comfort throwing himself into the Batman role, you begin to hate him a little with this particular betrayal.

Tim was another hard egg to crack but you were desperate after Jason's death, so you took his verbal lashings with a smile, were always there to offer a helping hand with any of his projects despite the help never being accepted. Tims wound from losing his father is too raw, he takes a lot of his anger out on you. And you weathered the storm with a soft, warm smile.

Damian hated you, from the moment he arrives, which is bitter enough as is because it meant Bruce was unfaithful, he's spitting out insults and comparing you to his 'perfect' mother.

Things weren't great in your life, but one day they started getting noticably worse. Dick no longer responded to your check in texts, Jason (now reanimated which was a heart attack in and of itself) saw you as the enemy, you didn't leave Bruce after what happened to him, so in his eyes you betrayed him, Tim ignored your existence as best as he could, and Damian? He'd started staring at you with this smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.

Bruce had all but ran from you, he didn't sleep in your shared room anymore, he barely spoke to you at breakfast, if it wasn't for the cameras he wouldn't touch you.

And it's all because of a woman named Rachel.

Apparently Bruce had introduced this woman to the family, bringing her around when you weren't, slowly replacing you, it was no wonder they started to pull back.

Alfred is the only reason you find out, having enough of the blatant disrespect, he calls you to come home early one day saying it's a dire matter. Of course you comply, and walk in on a discomforting sight. The whole family was gathered at the dining room table, plus a woman you'd never seen before, she sat close to Bruce, toying with his hand intimately. Her green eyes lock with yours and the smile she gives you forms a pit in your stomach.

There's silence before Bruce stands up, he walks over calmly, "Can we take this in the other room." But it wasn't phrased as a question.

"No" you licked your lips, a nervous habit from your youth. Bruce seemed taken back by your sudden backbone. He nods silently.

"I want her gone Bruce. I am your wife. You will show me that semblance of respect."

"I- of course." You don't wait for the words to settle instead, you calmly walk to your room, face unreadable.

Locking the door behind you, your body slides against the frame, a silent sob wracks your frame, your hands covering your mouth, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing your cries.

The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, a generic yet elegant spread of food lay on a tray in the empty spot Bruce used to stay. The man himself sitting in the chair beside the bed, staring at you with that practiced smile he used to appease people.

"Good morning."

"What's this?" You sat up straight, sleep evaporating from your form as you took in the threat before you.

"An apology. I never meant for yesterday to happen."

"What a comfort that is." Your piercing (e/c) eyes stare at him blankly, unreadable. "How long."

"A year." You scoff pushing the breakfast away from you like it was poisonous. "But its not what you think, Rachel is a childhood friend, a year ago our relationship, evolved into what it is now, but I was never intending to go behind your back."

"Ah of course, your intentions were pure." The words dripped venom, grabbing your robe you quickly dress before standing and walking to the door, "Thank you for the wonderful talk Bruce, really your people skills are top notch." Your hands gesture to the door. He leaves without a word.

The rest of the day is as usual, Bruce avoids you like the plague, the rest of the family acted as if you weren't there. Which made leaving all too easy.

Your lawyers had the divorce papers ready and hour after you called them, signing them felt like the first act of self love you'd done in years. Slipping them into Bruce's study you took the time to analyze the room you never entered.

It matched Bruce that's for sure, pictures of every single person in the family. All except for you.

Walking out the door, wrapped in your ankle length black faux fur coat, the garment whipped in the wind, the designer sunglasses on your face hid your eyes from the world, hair in a slicked back bun, your heels echoed against the pavement, a sleek black car was waiting for you, you look back at the house that had caused you so much misery then got in the back of the car, never looking back.

Life goes on for about a week, your absence goes unnoticed, that is before Rachel is trying and failing to blackmail Bruce out of a billion dollars, she'd collected evidence he was cheating on you with her and presented it to Bruce with a grin, it was only as he went through the pictures of himself and Rachel, did he notice the yellow envelope with his name written on the front.

Hey puts the heartbreaking matter of Rachel's betrayal on the back burner, Bruce opened the envelope and felt his heart completely stop at the word divorce written in bold lettering across the top, your signature was already there, waiting for his to join it.

Ignoring Rachel completely now he turns in his chair, turning the paper over and over as if it would magically change. But it remained the same. Alfred knocking on the door of his study broke him from his trance. "Master Wayne, miss Rachel." He says the latter's name with no warmth. "Escort Rachel to her car Alfred."

"Bruce have you heard a word I've said? I'm serious I'll go to Gotham daily right now if you don't -"

"Now Alfred."

That was all it took for the screaming woman to be firmly escorted off the premises. Bruce all but ran to your room, he didn't bother knocking, and despite knowing in his heart you were already gone, he couldn't help but check anyway.

Your room was empty and cold, he couldn't believe the date he'd read on the divorce papers, it was dated a week ago, meaning you'd been gone for a week and he hadn't noticed. No one had.

That is until Bruce remembers there's someone in the house nothing gets by.

"How long have you known she was gone Alfred?" He asks leaning on his knuckles the divorce papers stared back at him taunting him. "Since the moment she left." The older man replied simply his hands behind his back. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?" Bruce felt himself tense, "Because you've hurt that woman enough Bruce. She deserves at least this." He gestures to the daunting divorce paperwork before turning to leave Bruce with his thoughts.

The news of Rachel's betrayal shook the manor each member feeling violated by their trust being broken. But it was nothing compared to their reaction once they finally realized you were gone.

"That was rough." Jason says after watching Rachel being dragged out of the manor, he blew air out of his cheeks arms crossed over his chest, he looked towards the hallway that lead to your room, you had to have heard that he thought to himself.

Dick sighs through his nose, "Someone should check on (y/n), Rachel was screaming so loud she definitely heard that." No one volunteers so Dick rolls his eyes and heads towards your room.

He lifts his hands to knock but noticed the door was open, pushing it further he's met with a baren room, his brow furrowed in confusion before he makes his way to Bruce's study. "Hey B, have you seen (y/n)? Her room is like weirdly empty."

Dick found his Father where Alfred left him, leaning over the divorce papers silently a storm in his eyes.

As he steps closer and reads the paperwork Bruce was staring so intently at, his heart stopped.

"Holy shit- are those real?"

"Yes." Bruce finally spoke his voice horse. There was a moment of silence before Dick left the room practically running down the stairs to alert the others.

"(Y/n) left Bruce." He said still processing the information, "No fuckin' way." Jason says pushing himself off the counter he leaned on. "Her room is empty and he has the papers, she's gone."

Each member of the family had different reactions to this information.

Dick tries calling you only to be met with a disconnected number, his heart hammering in his chest, he wasn't as close to you as when he was younger sure, but you were a constant in his life, always had been, a pillar of support, and suddenly you weren't. It felt like the floor had gotten pulled out from under him.

Jason curses under his breath, his mind working a mile a minute, he had barely spoken to you since his Resurrection, something he deeply regretted as the information of your leaving sinks in like a brick thrown into a river.

Tim, ever calculating is trying to figure out where you went, you were a figurehead in his life, someone that was literally never not there, sure he wasn't close to you in the slightest but that doesn't mean he wants anything to happen to you, someone as quiet and soft as you on your own in Gotham? It didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.

Damian didn't know what he was feeling at the news, he supposed he should feel nothing, after all you were nothing to him, but there was this nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. And he hated it. How dare you leave and upset his fragile ecosystem?

Meanwhile in the Bahamas, far from Gotham and the neglectful family you'd left behind, you sat lounging on a private beach, a knitted hammock cradles your body, a designer baby pink bikini covers you, a matching sunhat protects your face from the hot sun, you can't wipe the smile from your face, humming a tune from your childhood you barely flinch when someone takes the seat besides your hammock.

"Do I want to know how you found me?" You ask, eyes still closed as you bask in the warmth. You knew only one person had the sources to find you on your own island, and despite how much you resent the man, even his presence can't ruin your shine in this moment.

"You're my wife (Y/n), I'll always know where you are." Bruce speaks softly as if trying not to startle you. "Former wife." You correct cracking an eye open, a small smirk curling on your lips.

"Not until I sign those papers- which I never will."

"huh, I thought you'd be thrilled." You muse to yourself before folding your tanning mirror and setting it aside, you take off your Louis Vuitton sunglasses, blinking your pretty (e/c) eyes up at him, "Figured you and your little Twinkie would have tied the knot by now." You laugh softly, the sound, unfamiliar to Bruce, sent warm shivers down his spine, it causes his lips to quirk up in a small grin.

"She's gone."

"Well, I don't care."

There's a beat of silence before he's offering you his hand. "Will you walk with me? I know I don't deserve it."

You sigh before getting up, ignoring his hand, you nod your head reluctantly, "Well? Hurry up I've got dinner at six."

His smile remains as he begins leading you along the shoreline. It's relatively quiet between you two as you walk side by side, a peace between you both you hadn't ever felt. "The manor isn't the same without you." He breaks the silence, "I sincerely doubt that." You laugh at the very notion. "It's true- it's colder, quieter, I want you to come home."

"That was never my home, you made that abundantly clear."

He winces as if your words cut him, "I know I haven't been a good man to you, I know I've failed you time and time again but I..I looked at those divorce papers and my heart stopped." He admits running a hand through his hair.

"You can't leave me."

"I can't?." You scoff, your movement halting, "I'm a grown woman- I'm taking responsibility for my own happiness, you can't stop me."

"I wasn't asking." He says softly, his hands in his pockets, he had this fond look on his face, like he was staring at you for the first time, in a whole new light. "You can't make me." You say, brows furrowed, "You belong back home, you're supposed to be with me, till death do us part, remember?" He steps forward making you step back, your eyes wide, hands shaking, you back into a wide chest, spinning to face Dick, who's grinning at you, he's in his Nightwing costume, he gives you a small wave of his hand, you scrunch your face in confusion, "What the hell-" your thought is cut off by a small pinch in your neck, the needle in Bruce's hand is empty in seconds, he's cradling your stumbling form, holding you tightly, "Don't worry - I'll fix this."

Your sleeping body is gently carried to the batplane, Bruce holding you close to his chest as Dick pilots the plane, he whispers promises into your hair, rocking you against him as he swears on his life to make things right, weather you liked it or not.

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere dc imagine #yandere dc x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere damian wayne x reader

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hitoshitoshi · 4 months ago

Text

Hair Washing [Husband!Zayne x GenderNeutral!Reader]

Summary: You take care of Zayne and he allows it for once in his life.

Tags: Established Relationship, Married life, Hair Washing, Self Degradation, Hurt/Comfort, Self Indulgent, Workaholic and Stubborn Zayne, Domestic fluff, Non-sexual Intimacy, Romance.

Zayne drove his Audi into the garage, the purr of the engine fading to silence as he cut the ignition. As the garage door descended, shutting out the world where it was just him in his car — his forehead resting against the steering wheel, eyes closed, the weight of a 16-hour shift was hitting him like a fire being snuffed out by a lid.

'Pull yourself together,' Zayne chided internally, straightening up with a soft inaudible groan.

Flipping down the sun visor mirror, Zayne assessed his reflection. Dark circles lurked beneath his hazel eyes, his hair was slightly disheveled, and his skin lost a bit of its glow. Zayne grabbed a comb and meticulously smoothed out his hair into place.

'You have no right to burden others with your childish grievances,' Zayne reminded himself, a mantra born of years of self-imposed stoicism. Zayne would not allow himself to ever burden you with such a pitiful thing such as tiredness or to ever make you worry as long as he lived.

Satisfied with his appearance, Zayne exited the car, his movements deliberately measured to hide his bone-deep fatigue that threatened to consume him. As he approached the house, he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. The mask, Dr. Zayne — the Cardiac Surgeon, slid off as he was now Zayne, your husband. He opened the door, stepping into the warmth of your shared home.

Zayne called out to you, "I'm home," his voice was steady and neutral, betraying none of the relief he felt at finally being home to where you were, in the house you two had lived in and cherished.

The sounds of rapid footsteps echoed through the house, and Zayne felt a flutter of warmth in his chest. You appeared, eyes bright with joy and relief that your beloved husband came home from work. For a moment, Zayne allowed a soft smile to tug at the corner of his lips as he drank in the sight of his partner.

Your heart raced at the sight of Zayne, a mix of excitement and concern washed over you. You rushed forward, arms outreached for a hug, but you stopped mid-motion as you took in Zayne's appearance. Despite Zayne's immaculate exterior, you knew Zayne more than anyone else to know that he was tired — the slight degree of a slump in Zayne's shoulders, the barely perceptible tightness around Zayne's eyes, the shadows under Zayne's eyes being a shade too dark. Your heart clenched, seeing the man you loved with your entire soul, pushing himself so hard.

"Zayne, you look tired," You said softly as you reached out to touch Zayne's arm. Your fingers trembled slightly, torn between the desire to pull him close and the fear of overstepping even if you two were already married. "Let me take care of you tonight."

Zayne felt a surge of conflicting emotions at your words — gratitude warring with his ingrained need for self-reliance. It was always Zayne treating and spoiling you, and not the other way around. Even the times when you tried to spoil him back, Zayne would always find a way to turn it around so that it was back to him spoiling you. His eyebrow arched slightly, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement to hide the vulnerability he felt.

"I'm fine," Zayne replied, his tone leaving no room for argument, even as an iota of him longed to give in, "It was just another day at the hospital." Zayne knew that he couldn't convince you since you were as stubborn as him, but it couldn't hurt to try.

Your eyes narrowed, unconvinced. You could see the weariness Zayne was trying so hard to hide, and it made your chest tighten with worry. You insisted, "You've been gone for over 16 hours and this was the 3rd time this week back to back that you've had these long shifts. You need to rest. Let me help you rest."

"I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've had longer shifts that were more troubling throughout the years," Zayne countered, a hint of stubbornness creeping into his voice. Even as he spoke, he felt his resolve wavering under your gaze — he hated concerning you. He hated making you feel this way — he hated himself for making you feel this way.

You stepped closer, your hand was gentle but insistent on Zayne's arm. You could feel the tension in his muscles and the slight tremor of exhaustion. "Please, Zayne," you pleaded, "Let me do this for you once. You always take care of me, let me take care of you sometimes. Even if it's on a blue moon, let me take care of you once."

Zayne's eyes shifted away as he let out a sigh, the rigid set of his shoulders relaxed a bit. A wave of tenderness washed over him, mingled with gratitude as he reluctantly gave in. "Fine," Zayne conceded, his tone was of his usual deadpan but it was tinged with affection. "If it will put your mind at ease."

Your face broke into a warm smile, relief and love shining in your eyes. You grabbed Zayne’s hand as you led Zayne towards the bathroom. Zayne allowed himself to lean slightly into your touch. For once, Zayne allowed himself to accept the care he so often denied himself.

You filled the bathtub with hot water, the sound of rushing liquid filling the quiet room. You added a generous amount of bubble bath, watching as frothy suds formed on the surface. The scent of rose oil wafted through the air as you added a few drops of it to the water. Your heart raced in anticipation and nervousness, hoping that you’d be able to take away Zayne’s stress.

Soft light from carefully placed candles flickered across the walls as you dimmed the overhead lights. You turned to Zayne who stood in the doorway — a hint of vulnerability in his usually stoic expression.

“Come,” You said softly, extending your hand out towards him. Zayne took your hand, allowing himself to be led to the bathtub. He raised your hand up to his lips as he gave your knuckles a soft kiss as a thank you. Zayne didn’t know the last time someone had put effort into him that wasn’t you — at least, someone who didn’t have any outside intentions of being nice to him. Zayne was forever thankful that he had such a kind spouse in his life, that out of all the lives he had lived, that he was able to be with you in this one.

As Zayne settled into the warm water, a soft sigh escaped his lips. The tension he’d been carrying began to melt away, and he closed his eyes to savor the sensation. Your heart swelled with affection at the sight of Zayne finally relaxing.

With gentle movements, you began to soak Zayne’s hair with warm water. Your fingers combed through the dark strands, careful not to tug or cause discomfort. Zayne’s breathing deepened slightly, the rhythmic motion lulled him into a state of calm he only experienced with and around you.

You reached for the shampoo, squeezing a small amount into your palm. The fresh, clean scent filled the air as you began to work it into Zayne’s scalp. Starting at the temples, you used your fingertips to massage in small, circular motions, applying gentle pressure to stimulate blood flow and to clean all of Zayne’s hair and his head. As your fingers worked their way to the base of Zayne’s skull, you could feel the tension that Zayne’s been holding start to loosen. Zayne let out a low hum of appreciation — the sound sending a small flutter though your chest. God, you loved your husband so much. You worked the shampoo through the rest of Zayne’s hair.

Once Zayne’s hair was thoroughly lathered, you began to rinse it clean. You used a small cup to pour warm water over his head — your other hand acted as a shield to prevent shampoo from running into his eyes. Zayne’s thoughts drifted, the simple act of being cared for stirred emotions that he usually kept tightly controlled.

Next, You reached for the conditioner, applying a generous amount through Zayne’s hair — focusing on the ends which tended to be drier. You began to massage Zayne’s scalp once more.You used your thumbs as you applied pressure to the occipital ridge at the base of Zayne’s skull. You then moved to the crown, using your fingertips to make small circular motions. You paid special attention to Zayne’s temples as you used gentle sweeping motions with your thumbs to ease away the day’s stress.

As your fingers worked their magic, Zayne felt himself surrendering to the care being lavished upon him as his eyes fluttered closed once more, his entire body relaxing in the hot water. A surge of protectiveness and tenderness surged through you as you noticed the change in Zayne’s demeanor. You bent your head down as you placed a soft kiss on your husband’s lips who reciprocated the kiss with even more gentleness in his movements.

“Thank you,” Zayne murmured against your lips— his voice was low and thick with emotion. The simple phrase carried the weight of all the gratitude and affection he struggled to express aloud.

You continued massaging Zayne’s scalp as you replied to him softly, “Always.”

The rhythmic pitter-patter of water being poured filled the air as you rinsed out Zayne’s hair; steam curled lazily around them, carrying the fading scent of the conditioner. Zayne’s breathing slowed as the last of the conditioner washed away. Your hand found Zayne’s elbow, steadying him as he rose. The sudden change in position sent a momentary rush to Zayne’s head, his usual grace faltering. Your eyes met Zayne’s briefly in the foggy mirror as you reached for the robe hanging nearby; the dark purple fabric rich against the bathroom’s pale tiles. As you helped Zayne slip on the robe, the soft material settled against his skin, still warm and slightly damp. The sound of footsteps resonated through the house as you both made your way to the bedroom. The air was cooler, raising goosebumps on Zayne’s exposed skin. He sank down onto the bed’s edge; the mattress dipped slightly under his weight. You moved behind him with a towel in hand. The first touch of terrycloth against Zayne’s nape sent a shiver down his spine — bare perceptible but there. You towel dried Zayne’s hair as his eyelids grew heavy; his usual sharp focus softened around the edges. You reached over to the nightstand where you grabbed the comb, its teeth scraped gently against Zayne’s scalp, with each pass detangling your husband’s hair — detangling all of the stress in Zayne’s mind who only focused on you and your touch. A clock ticked softly somewhere as the lamp on the other side of the bedroom casted a warm glow that softened the lines of their faces, illuminating your faces and your love. As you worked, Zayne found his gaze drawn to your reflection in the dresser mirror. He watched the play of emotions across your face: concentration in the slight furrow of your brows with care in the gentle set of your mouth. Something stirred in Zayne’s chest — an emotion he had sought after for so long that he would fight with his entire soul to keep.

“I love you.”

“I love you most”.

It was more than just a hair wash to both you and Zayne; it was an act of love, trust, and vulnerability that would deepen your bond in ways words could never express.

A/N: I love Zayne. I really really really love Zayne as you can tell. Have I mentioned that I love Zayne? Because I love Zayne. I have Zayne smut in drafts thats halfway written :3

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lesservillain · 6 months ago

Text

baby daddy!eddie x mom!reader

cw: smut, non established relationship, best friend!eddie as well, idiots in love

wc: 3.8k

Closing the door as gently as he could, Eddie tip toed down the hall of the trailer and rounded into the kitchen to get himself a beer. He’d played hard enough with Autumn that she could barely keep her eyes open through her bath, but that also meant he wore himself out in the process. So after cracking open a can, he plops his ass down and turns on the TV, ready to chill until he passes out on the couch.

Well, that was the plan. Just as he got comfortable, there was a small knock on the trailer door. With a frustrated sigh, Eddie jumps back up, mumbling something about people coming to his house so late at night.

“Listen, I’ve told you all I don’t fucking deal anymore—Woah!”

Instead of some annoying kids looking for weed, Eddie was met with your sniffling nose and tear stained cheeks. He immediately went into best friend mode, wrapping you in a big hug and letting you get those emotions out.

After some crying and a soaked shoulder later, you finally peel yourself away from Eddie and attempted to talk, but only babbling came out.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie says, thumbs rubbing the tops of your shoulders. “Just calm down and tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to compose yourself.

“He-he-he g-got mar-married,” you hiccup out.

Eddie blinks at you. He knows exactly what you were talking about. Dustin told him back when that Harrington met a girl about 6 months ago and apparently they hit it off right away. The last thing he wanted to do was tell you about her considering your long time pining for him Especially considering he’s the reason Harrington would never ask you out. But you ended up finding out on your own, and devastated couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

It seemed soon in Eddie’s opinion, granted he would marry you tomorrow if you would say yes. When Dustin told him that he was going to be the best man that the wedding, Eddie had mixed feelings. He knew that it would kill you when you found out. That you’d react exactly as you were now.

Actually, you’re doing a little better than he anticipated.

“He came into the store and,” you blew your nose into the toilet paper he grabbed for you, “and I saw the ring on his finger when he was getting his money out of his wallet.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“They haven’t even known each other that long! He’s such an idiot…”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Eddie jokes, rolling his eyes.

“Oh god, what if--do you think it’s because she’s pregnant?”

Eddie’s pretty sure Dustin would have told him if that was the reason why, but it’s not an unreasonable guess.

“I don’t know, could be? Or maybe Steve Harrington is just an idiot like you said. And maybe they’ll be divorced by this time next year. Who knows, right?”

You sighed, leaning into Eddie and resting your head against him. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset. He was never going to ask me out anyway. No one wants a young single mom. Steve has his whole life to do what he wants, why would he be with someone who has so much baggage?”

“Hey, don’t say that about Audy,” Eddie scolds.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” you correct, “I was talking about myself. I’d never be with someone who didn’t accept Autumn. Even Steve Harrington. I just…I’m damaged goods, Eddie.”

Eddie could feel himself getting upset but didn’t want to make things worse right now, so he took a few breathes to steady himself. He said your name sternly, pulling your full attention to him.

“I don’t like it when you say things like that. It makes me feel like it’s my fault--”

“Eddie,” you stop him before he can get another word out, “You know that you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve told you before that if I was going to get pregnant right out of high school with anyone that I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you.”

Eddie knows this, and he feels the same. But it’s not what he wants.

Even though it was all a total accident, he hoped that night the two of you spent together was going to be the next step for both of you. And even though he was scared after you told him with tears in your eyes then that he had gotten you pregnant, he wished with all his might that it would bring the two of you closer together.

Which it did in a way. Obviously the two of you would be bound together for the rest of your lives, but it wasn’t in the way he wanted. You still were head over heels for Steve, and there was no way Eddie could even compare to the king.

“Yeah…I know.” He says somberly. Your brows pinch, making him worried he should have said something else.

Then your expression changed. You looked at him intensely for a moment, before your eyes became lidded and…were you leaning in?

Eddie thought fast, making a quick decision to put his hand over your mouth, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes go wide as dinner plates, tears perching on your waterline as what hot embarrassment washes over you.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, suddenly regretting everything. This could have been his chance and he was an idiot.

You pull his hand from his mouth, sitting in silence for a moment before you begin to laugh. It catches Eddie off guard and he freezes.

“Eddie, I should be the one apologizing,” you say with giggles. “I’m the one who was stupid enough to try and kiss her best friend for a second time. We both know what happened the first time and the last thing we need is history to repeat itself.”

Eddie still felt conflicted. Your tone wasn’t sitting right with him, like there was some level of self depreciation in your words.

After a moment you stop laughing. Your face warps into worry as you stand from the couch.

“I-I need to go—“

“No, wait!” Eddie stands to grab your wrist before you could run away. He pulls you into him and hugs you tightly to him. You stand still before slowly wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt in your hands.

“Listen, I know you’re going through a lot emotionally right now, but…I’m here for whatever you need. Even if…” He trails off for a moment, knowing that he’s just going to hurt himself if he lets you use him. But he can’t turn you away when you need him. He’d rather you take advantage of his feelings than run off to someone else who would hook up with you without second thought.

“Even if it means crossing a boundary that we’ve already crossed before.”

Eddie feels you press into him harder, face buried in his chest. And when you look up at him, Eddie thinks he could melt into a puddle and let you mold him to however you’d like.

“I don’t think I should make any rash decisions right now,” you say with a sniffle. “I think I just need to clear my head. Let myself rot in my own misery instead of dumping it all on you.”

“Or,” Eddie says with a smile, “you could rot with me. I rented some movies and some beers in the fridge that have your name on them. I think we have some leftover pizza still, too.”

Your smile was so bright it was comparable to the sun rising. There was nothing in the world that could keep him down as long as you were happy. Eddie probably would have dropped out of school after his second failure if you hadn’t simply smiled at him and told him that he would graduate next year, for sure. He probably only did because you smiled at him every time he got a good grade.

The way you hugged him for a long time after a report card with no F’s on it kept Eddie’s head in the zone that last school year. And, well, the way your body felt under his when he finally graduated…

Eddie shook his head, wracking his brain for anything to keep his mind from thinking about that night right now. There’s no way him getting a boner while you were still holding on to him so tight would be good.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” you finally say after staring up at him for several beats. But Eddie caught the somber look in your eyes. It was going to take a lot of distracting to get you in a good head space.

“You know, I think we might still have some popcorn, too.”

After a few drinks, some weed, and a movie and a half later, Eddie finds himself waking up on his couch at some point after falling asleep. The bright, staticy screen causes him to squint his eyes, turning his head enough to bump his chin against the top of your head.

Eddie looks down at where you’re leaning into his side. He vaguely remembers wrapping an arm around you before the two of you had succumbed to sleep. It pains him to possibly wake you but the urge to pee is what startled him awake in the first place, so he does his best to untangle himself from you and sneaks to the bathroom.

On the way back to the couch, Eddie decided to stop in his room and grab a blanket for the two of you. But when he returns, he finds you sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hey,” you croak out, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers back. “I brought us a blanket.”

You stretch before standing up from the couch. “I should probably head home, Eddie.”

“Sweetheart its,” he leans to check the time on the microwave, “3 in the morning.”

Your eyes go wide, hands running over your face. “It is? Fuuuuck.”

“Just stay,” Eddie says, walking over to you and wrapping you up in the blanket. You groan, feeling conflicted on if you should stay and sleep on Eddie’s couch or if you should brave the drive home.

“Hey, if you stay, you don’t have to drive all the way over here to get Fae in the morning.”

“Ugh, okay you got me,” you say, giving in. You sit back down on the couch and start to make yourself comfortable.

“Wait, you can sleep in my bed. Promise I don’t bite.”

That took less convincing as you pop back up, dragging the blankets behind you as you wobble to Eddie’s room. Eddie laughs as you plop into his bed, stealing one of his pillows to make yourself comfortable.

“Hey save some room for me,” he says, walking around to the other side to climb in. He lays next to you, adjusting in an obnoxious manner that has you giggling. You turn to face him and he does the same.

“I love you,” you say at the tail end of a giggle. It’s something said frequently between the two of you. Genuine as it’s spoken after years of friendship.

“Love you, too,” Eddie says with a sigh. Sleep soon takes you both over again. The only sounds that can be heard is the sound of the a/c doing its best to cool down the trailer.

Eddie felt himself waking once again, this time much more comfortably in his own bed. He yawned, shaking a bit as the feeling of waking overcame his body.

The sun peaking through the cracks of his curtains gave the room just enough light that he could see the room with a slight glow. Turning his head, he chanced to see if you were still laying with him. He had a dream that you’d left with Autumn and ran away with Steve that left a sick feeling in his stomach.

Much to his delight you were indeed still occupying the bed with him. Smiling wide as you looked at him, already awake where you lay.

“Mornin’,” he says in his morning voice, and your eyes flicker.

“Morning,” you squeak back. As Eddie turns to face you, your hand finds its way out from under the covers and reaches out towards him. Your fingers gently glide across his cheek, rubbing against the stubble as you push his hair out of his face.

The way you’re looking at him has Eddie’s tummy feeling funny, but in a different way from his dream. You’re looking at him the same way he looks at you.

Suddenly, you push yourself up on your arm, hand still on his cheek as you start to lean in once again. Eddie’s heart beats hard against his chest as you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

It lasts a few moments, and Eddie melts into it. It was a kiss like none he’s ever had before. Not even compared to the last time the two of you kissed before Autumn was born. This kiss felt like a hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning, the warmth spreading to every part of his body as he drank you in.

When you pulled away, Eddie chased after you, not wanting it to end so soon unknowing if it would ever happen again. When you don’t kiss him again, his eyes finally open to meet yours. They’re bouncing everywhere, scanning his face as if looking for an answer written on his skin.

“Eddie…”

But Eddie doesn’t let you ponder much longer, hand snaking around your head to pull you into him once more. This time more feverishly, the heat palpable between the two of you.

You shift so that you can bury your hands in his hair, and Eddie takes advantage of this to move himself above you. Eddie kisses you into the pillow beneath you, long kisses turning into passionate smacking, poking the fire that was burning between you.

“Tell me to stop,” Eddie says as his lips begin to move down your cheek and to your neck. He says your name breathily, “Tell me now, because I won't be able to stop once this starts.”

“I-I can’t. I won’t,” you stutter, hands grabbing at his waist as he kisses and nips at your neck. Eddie breathes against you, body alight knowing that you wanted this as much as him.

“But,” you say, stopping him in his tracks. You give him a coy smile, nodding towards the door. “You better make it quick. You know she’ll wake up at any moment.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Don’t gotta tell me twice. Better get to work then.”

Eddie suddenly lifts the blanket above the both of you and disappears underneath it. Soft kisses leave a trail from your knees to the apex between them. Eddie slips his fingers in the hem of the sleep pants he let you borrow, pulling them down with your panties in one quick motion. There was barely any light to see, so he decided to just dive in tongue first.

He ate you out like a man starved. Your thighs try hard to wrap around him as he works you up on his tongue, but his strong arms hold you open for him. Eddie groans at the way your fingers grip his hair, tugging just enough to burn so good against his scalp.

Once he added fingers, you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself quiet. It was like Eddie knew exactly what you liked, because not long after you were coming undone, riding his face as you did.

Eddie crawls up your body, head resting between your breasts as he pokes out from under the covers.

“Jesus, Eddie,” you pant, looking at him in awe.

“And that’s not even the best part,” he teases, making you roll your eyes at him. You grab his face and bring him closer to you, tasting yourself on his lips as you kiss him again.

Eddie rolls his hips subconsciously, and you can feel how hard he is as he grinds against you. You want to say you also forgot how big he was, but it’s something you didn’t want to admit you thought about often.

Your hand travels between you, fingers trailing against his skin as you reach the hem of his boxers. Slipping under it, you feel your way to his hard cock, taking it in your hand to pump him. He whines against your lips, hips moving faster in your grip. You watch with awe struck eyes as his beautiful face contorts in pleasure above you.

“Please,” he pants out as he fucks your hand, “Wanna be inside you. Can I?”

You nod silently, unbelievably turned on by your best friend for the second time now.

He works fast pulling his boxers off quickly, a loud thwaping coming from his cock smacking against his stomach after getting caught on the waistband. Your eyes go wide as you take in his size.

After almost 2 years you’re still shocked at what Eddie Munson is packing. Those dumb ass cheerleaders that picked the bone head jocks over him have no idea what they missed out on.

Eddie settled himself between your legs, spitting on his own cock to get it good and wet before rubbing it in your soaked folds. You had a moment of clarity, realizing that Eddie wasn’t wearing a condom. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words got caught up in a moan as Eddie pushed his way inside of you.

The stretch took your breath away. Eddie seesawed his way into your tight cunt, opening you up on his cock until he was balls deep inside of you. He placed his hands on either hip and started moving, holding you tight as he worked up his pace.

Every thrust felt like too much and not enough at the same time. The constant knocking against your sweet spot had you seeing stars quickly, still worked up from him eating you out. The pretty sounds that Eddie was making wasn’t helping either, but you still had enough mind to shush him so that he wouldn’t wake your daughter.

Eddie’s pace quickens, and he makes the fatal mistake of adding his thumb to the mix. It only throttles you to the edge for a second time this morning. It’s not much longer before your vision goes white, toes curling as your orgasm takes over. It's probably the hardest you’ve cum in a long time.

“Oh, fuck.”

You barely registered Eddie’s words, but you definitely felt the reason behind his curses. Eddie was cumming deep inside you, balls emptying into your pussy as you were still riding out your own orgasm.

In the moment it felt amazing, but the post orgasm bliss left you crashing as you realized the very real situation you were both in.

Eddie felt himself being pushed by you, taking him out of his own high as he stumbled back on his ass. As you open your mouth to speak, Eddie is hit with a wave of deja vu with every word.

“Did you fucking cum in me?” The words came out in slow motion and Eddie’s body broke out in cold sweat.

“I-I’m sorry. I was going to pull out, I just—“

“What? You forgot? Are you kidding me Eddie? Do you not remember what happened the last time?”

Right on cue, your daughter's whines could be heard from across the hall. You sigh, kicking the covers completely away from you and grabbing the pajama pants you had back on.

“Listen, I really am sorry,” Eddie says, looking at you with big, sad eyes. You groan, unable to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that.

“What are we going to do then, Eddie?” You ask him, walking out of his bedroom to get your daughter.

Eddie sits on the bed for a moment and thinks. He knows that you getting pregnant again while Autumn’s only and a half isn't ideal. Not that you being pregnant is ideal anyway, but honestly Eddie wouldn’t be mad about it.

He was so head over heels for both you and Autumn that he doesn’t hate the idea of another person to love is the worst thing. But he’s also not the one doing all the hard work. And if it wasn’t obvious the first time that having a kid wouldn’t fix any problems, then having a second would probably not make much of a difference in your feelings towards him.

The door opens again and Eddie watches as you enter with a squealing toddler on your hip, clearly happy to see both mommy and daddy.

“Morning, sweet girl,” Eddie cooes, scooping his baby up and smothering her with kisses, sending Autumn into a fit of giggles.

“I went ahead and changed her. If you want to dress her I’ll make breakfast.”

Eddie gave you a quick salute as you went to the kitchen, leaving him and your mini me to get ready for the day. It took a lot of wrestling but he was able to get the little one dressed, including hair done, and looking presentable for the day.

Fixing her up in her highchair, Eddie sat at the small kitchen table and breathed a sigh of relief. You shook your head at his theatrics, setting breakfast down for the both of them.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said, spooning some applesauce into Autumn’s mouth. “After we eat, why don’t I follow you to the pharmacy and we can pick you up a Plan B?”

You quirk an eyebrow in amusement. “You have Plan B money this time?”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughs dryly at your reference to the last time you had sex, the both of you freaking out over having no money. Thankfully Eddie was able to get a good job at Hawkins Auto Body when you got pregnant. He makes pretty good money now considering he was able to get his own trailer. Money is still tight, but he can manage.

“Fine, better eat up then, or else you’re gonna have two mouths to feed instead of one.”

Eddie looks at your daughter, spitting image of him, besides your nose, and smiles. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but…maybe one day.

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