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notjustjavierpena · 10 months ago

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Swelter

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

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mr-jack-letterman · 2 months ago

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We need more young stan content out here.

And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.

Yeah that one.

I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.

There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.

Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.

I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.

Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.

He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.

Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.

The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.

At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.

Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.

The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.

12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

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that-student-that-has-homework · 10 months ago

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Portgas D. Ace Headcanons 01

Excuse me Oda-sensei, but that 40 year old Ace is simply criminal. Thank you so much for blessing us with him

Anyway! Have some Husband!Ace headcanons For more Ace content please head to my Tumblr MasterList

Ace is, respectfully, a huge simp for his wife

To the extent that the Whitebeard crew straight up jokingly awarded him with a “Biggest Wife Simp” Award

They made it look official and had Whitebeard sign it and everything. There's even a stamp.

Ace has it framed and hung proudly on the wall next to your bachelor’s degree / college diploma / degree in general.

I feel like despite his own personal insecurities, Ace still manages to be an amazing father

I imagine Ace originally setting out for like one or two kiddos at most (because y'know...what if he's not good enough) and ending up with 3 or 4 kids

Thing is, that’s both your faults.

Ace is tender and goofy with his kids, and he’s so friggin caring: to the extent that…well wouldn’t it be neat to see him with maybe another 2 or 3 kiddos of his own?

(Your husband is hot okay?)

In his case, he swears you have a unique glow about you when you’re pregnant. But more than that when he sees you with your first born, he suddenly wants a big family with you.

I imagine his kids are an eldest son, then his princess, then the youngest boy who takes after his uncle Luffy.

His kids aren’t parentified. He keeps his issues far, far, away from them. Besides, he’s got you by his side.

He was dedicated to making sure they got as much playtime as possible.

He heard about learning through play, and he is DEDICATED to doing that as much as possible

Ace’s kids are spoiled with affection, but not spoiled brats.

While it’s true he’d give them the world, he’d rather let them go get it themselves.

For example: when they asked for a tree house, he gave them the greenlight immediately.

But they had to build it themselves.

It was a super fun project lasting a little over two months with the whole family involved.

Oh and the Whitebeard crew helped too.

It took a while to get the design down initially, then the shopping logistics and whatnot (they used a lot of math here - see education via play)

Building the thing took maybe a weekend or two because the Whitebeard Crew and even the Strawhats came over to help

(It was mostly Franky and Usopp doing work, Sanji was cooking with Thatch)

Uncle Luffy was not allowed near the construction zone after an accident.

They almost destroyed the tree house with their partying once

Ace’s kids were not happy and no one was allowed in the backyard for the rest of the night

He makes sure they have proper manners and self-defense skills

You had to help out here, no lie.

He admitted he needed your help, especially after a dinner with Garp where Makino tagged along to see Ace again

He puts all of his kids into martial arts classes

especially his princess - he’s so proud of her when she beats up bullies

He’s not great at discipline though to be honest. He probably goes about it similarly to Garp.

Ace will not tolerate any of his kids being nasty to their mother. No matter the phase.

You will have to hold him back if you want to let them get their frustration off their chest.

He’ll let them talk, but you’ll have to keep a hand on him somewhere, his arm, his hand, his knee, his shoulder, his back and rub soothing circles

Let’s just say, “talk shit, get hit,” is Ace’s attitude towards anyone being demeaning towards you (more so with adults, not his kids, but that's why they get a scolding)

"Ace my love" (he melts every time you call him that) "the kids’ll start thinking you love me more than them if you do that"

"My kids won’t disrespect their mother though!"

"They’re just venting darling, and when they say or do something that violates my boundaries, I'll be sure to reinforce it. Lead by example right?"

If they ever feel like pissing Ace off for fun they can just say something kinda not nice about you and he'll get mad and they'll flee from him giggling like the little gremlins they are

Ace is veeeeeeeeerry physically affectionate and he isn’t shy about it at all.

At gatherings with the Whitebeard family, he will gladly seat you in his lap, he will happily hug you as you are seated.

His arm is on your waist most of the time.

They tease him to make him tone it down, he does not.

He, in fact, dials it up. Turns up the heat lol.

You have kids? Not in front of them? What do you mean, not in front of the kids? It’s important they know just how much he loves their mama!

So he will continue to be playful with his hugs and kisses and other displays of affection.

It’s nothing too over the top. Just hugs and quick pecks wherever.

Your entire head is fair game for his smooches, your arms (he loves kissing your pulse and then making eye contact, sneaky guy that he is), your shoulders.

Maybe lifting you and spinning you around. Cuddles. Little bites.

He will play-wrestle his kids to “fight” them over getting to cuddle you, and then he’ll just put all his weight on all of you in a group cuddle

Just to let you know, your kids also receive all the warmth and love of his affections.

When his sons are still tiny and adorable, he smooches them all over. The kisses grow less frequent as they grow older, but the hugs do not stop.

Oh no, hugs galore.

Ace still pecks his little princess on her forehead though

When they’re all under ten he’ll wrap them in a hug (after he chased them down and caught them so they’re laughing and screaming) and start smooching their cheeks while they laugh and try to get out of his grasp

Also yes she’s his princess, but that girl has no problem throwing a fully grown man twice her size around, he made sure of it.

I reiterate: Ace is not remotely shy about displays of affection

Like his eldest could have a friend over, and Ace would still launch a full scale hug attack using the rest of his troops (daughter/youngest)

It's complete with screeching, screaming, and a lot of laughter

His kids used to get teased for it, but it didn’t take more than a few conversations for them to instead jeer at the kids that teased them.

"You’re all jealous your parents don’t love you like ours do"

"How sad, your parents don't hug and kiss you"

Their dad, grandpa, uncle - uncles really, are all gremlins - it's in their DNA

The kids are really physically affectionate with each other as a result

Deadass they’ll be kicking the shit out of each other one second and the next they’ll be all cuddled and huddled up playing Mario Kart or something

Ace is his kids’ hero.

His sons aspire to have his level of fitness.

His daughter, when she’s older, uses him as a standard for dating

You're relieved

Ace is touched and a touch nervous, because he is aware of his shortcomings, though he works hard to keep improving

Of course when you look at him, a twinkle in your eyes, and tell him, “I’m so proud of her, I’m so proud of you!” He feels better

When you continue: “if she can find a guy like you, who cherishes her as much as you cherish me, I’d be so happy.”

Ace loves you so much he swears

#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months ago

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Suburban Sparks

Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's Little Sister Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: What you think is another lame party hosted by your lame brother turns into an unforgettable night with the man you've had a crush on for the past eight years. Warnings: getting to fuck your teenage crush, smut, unprotected p in v sex (reader is on the pill and both are tested), oral f receiving, age gap (Javi's around 40, reader's in her twenties), almost getting caught by your big brother because Javier Peña is too good at oral, alcohol, green shirt muzzle, spot the "juno" by sabrina reference. Words: 6,150 Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Masterlist

“Honey!” your mom happily exclaims from the kitchen table. “Stevey sent us mail!”

Stevey. Your brother’s currently hunting down one of the world’s most dangerous drug dealers and yet she still calls your older brother his childhood nickname.

“Oh?” you feign interest as you take a seat and pour yourself a bowl of cereal.

“Look how handsome he is here,” your mom says, holding up the photo. Yeah, okay, there’s your brother, he looks the same. But then, your eyes move to who’s standing next to him, and you almost spill the milk.

Standing next to him is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Wow. He looks like a vintage model of a car, out of place in his tight jeans and yellow aviators, but cool in a classic way. You’ve never liked mustaches, and yet, it works on him. Tall and fit, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. Your fingers tingle at the thought of running them through his hair.

“Is that… Javier?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’m sure it is,” your mom muses. "He's handsome isn’t he?”

“I guess,” you shrug, all of those acting classes you took in middle school sure have paid off now as you pretend to not be totally enamored with the man in the photo.

Your mom chatters on about Steve's latest exploits, but you're only half-listening, you’re too busy thinking about Javier. You wonder what his voice sounds like, if his hands are as strong as they look, how his mustache would feel against your skin.

You visit the photo album with the picture of Javier often. And on a day when you’re feeling particularly brave, you take the photo from the page. And then—rip. Stevey is gone, leaving Javier alone. You tuck the photo into your pocket before sliding it into your bedside drawer.

Years pass, the photo of Javier still sits in the bottom of your bedside drawer, as if it’s almost a token of your girlhood, of your innocence, of your teenage dreams. It moves with you from crappy apartment to crappy apartment. Sure, it feels a little pathetic to hold on to the secret connection with a man you’ve never met, but a girl never forgets her first crush on an older man.

Steve sometimes mentions him, bringing snippets of information about Javier. “Javi’s still chasing cartels,” he might casually say over dinner, making your heart skip a beat. Or, “Peña’s thinking about transferring back to the States,” and suddenly you think about actually meeting him.

You go to college, date a few people along the way—an artist named Adam, a burlesque dancer named Rachel, a fellow actor named Trevor. You even spend three solid years with Lincoln, the sensible guy your parents just loved… but none of them ever quite measured up to the mysterious DEA agent who exists only in sporadic mentions and that faded photo.

Some nights, after a couple glasses of wine, you still pull out the photo and think about him. What is he like now? Does he still dress like his closet is from the decade prior? What makes him laugh? Does he laugh often? Does he hold anyone in his arms at night? What would it feel like to be in those strong arms? Scenarios dance through your head—maybe he visits Steve, or you randomly meet him at a coffee shop. In your mind, he always notices you, and always feels the exact pull you feel. A girl can dream, even when she’s an adult with a job and an apartment.

Steve and you have always lived very different lives. While he was the star athlete in school, you avoided sports, choosing the stage instead. While he was hunting down Pablo Escobar and saving the world from the cocaine king, you were secretly learning how to grow marijuana plants in your closet hidden from your parents. While he’s happily married, settled down, and raising your niece, you’ve just broken up with Lincoln, because he wanted kids and a future you weren’t ready for.

You climb into your beat-up car that you really only rely on to get to Steve’s house for his and Connie’s annual harvest bonfire. The world turns from narrow streets lined with brick buildings to wide roads with large homes and playgrounds. Buses and pedestrians are traded for SUV’s and minivans.

Steve only lives twenty minutes away from your tiny apartment in the Adams Morgan section of DC. Your kitchen is the size of his closet. Whenever you take the drive to his perfect suburban home, you feel like you’re traveling to a different world, especially once you pull up to his house. His pristine suburban castle with a driveway bigger than your whole apartment, feels like a whole world away, not less than a half hour.

The wooden gate creaks as you push it open, the sound immediately catching Olivia’s attention.

“Auntie!” she shouts, running toward you with her arms flailing in excitement.

“Hey, Liv!” You hug her tight and kiss the top of her head as she giggles.

“Hey kid!” Connie calls from the patio, making her way down the steps carrying two bottles of beer.

“Evening. One of those for me?” you ask.

“Nope, we had some help setting up,” she tilts her head towards the gazebo. Steve sits next to… Javier Peña. Crap.

Suddenly, you're hyper-aware of your outfit: an oversized flannel thrown over a plain white tee, faded jeans, and your scuffed Doc Martens. You dressed for a lame party hosted by your brother, never thinking the man that used to star in all of your teenage fantasies would be here.

Your heart races as you approach the gazebo and try to keep your cool. Javier's eyes meet yours, and for a moment you forget how to breathe. He's even more handsome in real life, his mustache is perfectly groomed with sideburns that frame his chiseled jaw. Fuck, he’s so much better than that ripped picture that lives in your bedside table drawer.

"Hey sis," Steve calls out, breaking the spell. "This is Javier Peña, my old workmate in Colombia."

Yeah Steve—you know all about him.

Javier offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes… you feel so intimidated. "Nice to meet you," he says, his voice low and gravelly.

You manage a nod, suddenly at a loss for words… something nobody would ever say about you. "Yeah, hi, nice to meet you too,” you respond darting your eyes every which way to avoid looking at him.

His eyes stay locked on you, you notice a slight movement in his jaw as he looks you up and down. Your body heats at his assessment.

Steve breaks the tension with his voice.” Javi had a job interview at the office today. We couldn't let him stay at some boring hotel, now could we?"

“Mighty kind of you,” Javi says, his eyes still on you. You nervously shuffle on your feet, at a loss of words, trying to not show your inner panic.

Steve clears his throat, catching Javier’s attention. “Where’s Lincoln?”

“Oh, yeah, we broke up,” you shrug, taking a seat across from Javier, trying to loosen your shoulders.

“What?!” Steve exclaims. “I liked him!”

You roll your eyes. "Well, I can give him your number if you’re that upset. He’s single now."

A small chuckle leaves Javier’s lips.

BEEP. BEEP. Steve’s watch goes off and he checks it with a frown. "I gotta go take care of the chili. You two going to be alright?”

“Well manage,” Javier answers, leaning back into the chair.

Fuck, this is… this is something you used to dream about. Sitting across from Javier Peña, just the two of you. Except in those dreams you were a hell of a lot cooler, now you can barely look over at him, your focus remaining on the frayed edge of your plaid shirt.

The silence stretches between the two of you.

“So,” he says, breaking the tenseness, “you broke up with your boyfriend recently?”

You meet his gaze. “Yeah. He wanted kids, the whole future thing. I wasn’t into it.”

Javier nods, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And what are you into?"

You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks burn hot under Javier's intense gaze. What the hell are you into? God, if he only knew the fantasies you've had about him over the years. That’s what you’re really into. You use your improv lessons to good use.

“Surviving this lame suburban party hosted by my lame brother and his patient wife who’s way out of his league.”

Javier laughs. “Connie said I’d like you.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a bit bolder now that you’ve made him laugh twice. “And was she right?”

“According to Steve, she’s never wro—”

“Auntie!” Olivia’s excited voice interrupts as she barrels toward you. “Come see my new dollhouse! It’s soooo big!” She grabs at your hand, tugging with all her might.

“Sorry, Javier, I have important aunt things to take care of,” you say standing up and letting Olivia pull you toward the house.

The party is in full swing. Steve’s friends are all here, standing in little circles with their polished wives.

They regale each other with tales of their kids—who’s excelling at school, who got the karate trophy. Someone is getting new hardwood floors, someone’s leaving for Bermuda on Tuesday. It’s a far cry from your parties with your friends, watching cartoons, discussing war crimes, and smoking joints on the tiny fire escape.

You glance over at Javier who lingers near the edge of the firepit. He looks as out of place as you, standing quietly, arms folded, watching the crowd. He’s listening, but not engaging—you know he’s just as uninterested in these tales of suburban bliss as you are.

You catch his eye for a moment, he tugs the edge of mouth up in a knowing smirk, as if you’re both in on the same joke. Two outsiders in this picture perfect world.

Connie breezes by with a tray of appetizers, smiling warmly at everyone as she plays the perfect hostess. She’s good at this, making it all look easy. You do admire her for it, but it all feels so stifling to you. You take a long sip from your hot apple cider and bourbon, hoping the alcohol will help soothe all the thoughts of how you’re not part of this world.

You lean against the patio railing, watching as one of Steve’s friends launches into yet another story about their perfect child and their achievements. Javier comes and stands beside you, his presence making you feel almost lightheaded. You take another drink.

“Not exactly our crowd, huh?” you ask under your breath, loud enough for only him to hear.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You could say that.”

You take another sip, glancing up at him. “Kind of feels like we’re in a brochure for suburbia, doesn’t it?”

Javier looks over at you, your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him glowing in the flicker of the orange flames. “Definitely.”

“Think there’s a section on how to survive these kinds of things?”

He nods.

Another stretch of silence is shared between the two of you. Yours and his eyes observing all of the exploits of the perfect couples from afar.

Steve’s laughter echoes across the yard. “Hey! Peña, come on over here! This guy used to live near Laredo!”

Javier looks over at you and with an apologetic nod and walks towards Steve’s group with measured movements, like he’s already preparing to blend into the conversation.

The party begins to die down. You’ve been in a circle of conversation with Connie and a few of her friends. Connie’s warmth helps you fit in better, along with the warm apple cider and bourbon. You feel good and happy from all the spiked cider, like you can fit in a little more with Connie and her fellow perfect moms and wives.

Your watch reads 11:45 when the last of Steve and Connie’s friends say goodbye. Javier helps Steve stack the chairs, you allow yourself to stare and watch the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt. Taking drink after drink of your cider to try to quiet the want for him coursing through you.

"Hey, sis," Steve calls out, wandering over to where you're sitting on the edge of the deck. "You good to drive?" His blue eyes are red rimmed, he’s definitely had a good time tonight.

“Uh, no, not the best idea,” you shrug, suddenly feeling just how many drinks you had.

Connie appears at Steve's side, her arm wraps around his waist. She’s just as tipsy as your brother. "No worries, hun. You can stay in the guest room tonight. Though, Javier’s in your usual.”

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of staying under the same roof as him. You forgot he was staying here tonight. You nod, trying to not show the panic that’s inside you. "Thanks."

Steve yawns. "Well, I think it's time for bed. Long day, good party. You two gonna be okay out here?"

"We'll be fine," Javier says, his voice low.

Connie gives you a knowing look, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Don't stay up too laaaaate," she sings. Steve’s oblivious, thankfully.

You watch as Steve and Connie make their way inside, arms wrapped around each other, giggling like teenagers. The sliding glass door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving you and Javier alone.

“You want to hang out?” He asks, nodding his head toward the low fire.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. Is this a dream?

You take a seat in a low adirondack chair, Javi chooses the one right next to you, not across, but next.

The fire crackles, casting a soft glow across Javier's face. You remind yourself to not turn your head and stare.

"So," he says, turning to face you, his eyes roaming your face. "Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

"Well, much to my parent’s chagrin,” you take a deep breath. “I don’t live the suburban dream like my brother," you say, gesturing towards the large house. "I've got a tiny apartment in DC. My neighbors are a bunch of college kids and starving artists like me.”

"Sounds more interesting than this," he nods.

“Never a dull moment,” you shrug, finishing the cup of cider.

"And what do you do?"

"I do graphic design, mainly freelancing for nonprofits and small businesses in between what few acting jobs I can book. Struggling artist and actor is not nearly as important as a DEA agent,” you shrug. “But it pays the rent and keeps me creative… though mom and dad are still confused why I’d want to do something so pointless with my life."

“Still sounds like you’re making a difference.” He offers you his glass of straight whiskey he’s been slowly sipping all night. His dark eyes watch you take a drink, your body melting at the thought of your lips touching his.

“I guess,” you shrug, handing the glass back to him. “It’s not like I’m changing the world or anything. Just helping make things look nice, you know?”

His eyes don’t leave you.

“Doesn’t sound so small to me,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, well, it’s definitely not as thrilling as what you and Steve used to do in Colombia. I can’t imagine going from hunting down drug lords to… whatever this is,” you say, gesturing to the pristine yard.

“When the job ends, you either pack up and leave or you’re left with the mess.” He turns to face the fire, his eyes are distant, like he’s somewhere else entirely.

You hum in agreement, wondering what type of memories he carries with him.

“But I can see why your brother’s settled into this. It’s simple. Predictable.”

“Boring,” you add with a smirk.

“Yeah,” he agrees, with a half smile. “Boring.”

“So, all of this doesn’t appeal to you? The beautiful lawn, the beautiful wife, the picket fence? Seems like something every man wants.”

“Not everyone does,” he says after a pause.

"Yeah?” You tilt your head, curious.

“I used to think about it. But it never worked out that way. My job… didn’t leave much room for anything else.”

You give him a soft smile and nod. The silence floats through the air as the fire dies down.

“Maybe if the right person shows up…” he softly murmurs, finishing his glass of whiskey.

You stifle a yawn.

"Getting late," Javier observes. "We should probably head inside."

You nod, suddenly aware of how tired you are. The fire has died down to glowing embers, the late night air turns chillier. You stand, swaying slightly as the effects of the apple cider and bourbon hit you.

"Whoa there," Javier says, his hand reaching out to steady you. His touch sends a jolt through your body.

"I'm fine," you insist, even as you lean into his warmth. "Just need some water."

He closely follows you into the house. The kitchen is dark, illuminated only by a night light plugged into the wall.

"Glasses?" Javier asks.

"Um, top cabinet, I think.”

He grabs two glasses and fills them with water from the tap, handing one to you.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking a long sip. You lean against the counter, Javi stands in front of you. Somehow, Steve’s large kitchen now feels entirely too small, being in the presence of Javier’s wide shoulders and handsome face makes it hard to breathe.

“So,” you say, licking the water off your lips. “Your interview go well today?”

He nods, his eyes stay on your mouth. "Yeah. Don’t know what to think of it."

"Having second thoughts?"

He shrugs, his broad shoulders moving under his shirt. "Maybe. It's a desk job. Feels... strange after everything."

You nod, understanding. "Must be hard to go from all that excitement to pushing papers."

"It's... I don't know if I’ll be able to fit in that world."

"I know. Sometimes I look at Steve's life and wonder how we came from the same parents. Like we came from the same place, but I took a left turn while he took a right." His eyes meet yours, a spark of recognition passing between you. "So, if not a desk job, what do you want?"

He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm not sure," he admits. "But I know it's not this." You understand exactly what he’s saying… the house, the neighborhood, the whole suburban lifestyle.

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "And what about right now? What do you want right now?"

You feel like you might burn up in flames under the heat of his eyes. Slowly and deliberately, he sets his glass down on the counter and moves to stand in front of you, his broad body casting you in complete darkness, blocking the dim glow of the night light. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb traces your lips.

"You," Javier murmurs, his eyes planted on your lips. "Right now, I want you."

You blink, unbelieving at the words you just heard. For years, you’ve dreamed of this. Imagined what it’d feel like to be touched by him, the sound of his voice. And now, it’s real. You expect to wake.

"Javier," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "I—"

He doesn’t allow you to finish your thought, his lips seal over yours with a soft, hesitant kiss… like he knows he’s in his friend’s kitchen kissing his little sister. But when you wrap your arms around his neck, pull him closer and open your mouth, he softly groans as his tongue licks against yours.

His hands move to your hips, gripping them firmly as he pushes you back against the counter. The cool tile edge digs into your lower back.

He trails his lips along your jawline, down to your neck. A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Shh,” he soothes against your skin, his hot breath and mustache sends shivers down your spine.

You nod, biting your lip to keep quiet as his hands roam your body..

His fingers trace patterns on your bare skin when he slides his hands under your flannel and up your shirt. You shiver at his touch, desire pooling low in your belly. His lips find yours again, the kiss deeper and more urgent now.

A sudden creek from upstairs alerts the two of you. You both freeze, lips still barely touching, breath mingling between you.

He pulls back slightly, eyes dark and conflicted. Your chests rise and fall rapidly.

"We can't," he whispers, voice rough with regret. "You’re–you’re Steve’s little sister."

You nod, understanding and disappointed.

He takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes rounded in guilt. "I shouldn't have—"

"No," you interrupt, shaking your head. "Don't apologize. I wanted it too."

You’ve wanted it for years.

A tense silence falls between you. You can feel the ghost of his lips on yours and his hands on you.

"I should go to bed," you say finally, breaking the silence. "It's late."

Javier nods, his jaw clenching slightly. "Yeah, me too."

You make your way to the stairs, Javier following close behind.

“Well,” you lean against the threshold of your temporary room, with your hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight Javi.”

He runs his tongue across his teeth, sending you a lascivious wink. “Sweet dreams, bonita.” He glances down the hall, towards Steve and Connie’s room.

Your fingers tighten around the doorknob, knowing once you turn it and open the door, the night will end. All you have to do is just take one step toward him and live out your teenage dream. With one last look at him, standing broad and tall in front of you, his lips agape, with his handsome jaw tense, you turn the knob and step into the room, shutting the door on your wildest fantasy coming true.

You toss and turn in bed, overheated by the kiss, feeling the touch of Javier imprinted on your skin. You stop yourself from getting out of bed and tip toeing to Javier’s door multiple times. You’re driving yourself cra—

A soft succession of knocks tap against your door.

God, it better be him.

You delicately tip toe over to the door and open it.

The door creaks open just enough, a blur of green sweeps in. His lips crash into yours, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth as he gently nudges the door closed.

He pulls back, his eyes heavy, roaming your panting, frenzied face.

“You gotta be quiet, I can only do this if you promise to be quiet.”

You nod, your eyes blinking wide.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrow tilting up.

“Y-yes,” you whimper, his big arm wrapped around you tight, your hands clasping the soft olive green cotton of his shirt.

He nods, sealing his mouth over yours. Your tongue responds to his, tasting the mint of his toothpaste, feeling the bristle of his thick mustache against your skin. He leads you to the bed, his lips not leaving yours as he lays you down against the dark blue sheets and climbs over you. He lays atop you, his broad body encompassing you underneath all of his silent strength. His knee parts your legs, a large hand running up the smooth skin of your thigh, pushing up the fabric of your night shirt.

Your back arch/es, chest pressing against his when he kisses his way down to your neck, gently nipping at it as his thumb traces the seam of your panties.

“Javi,” you whisper, your fingers weaving through the soft strands of his hair.

He glances up, his dark brown eyes staring into yours. Your mouth is agape, panting for air, already too overwhelmed by his attention.

“Please,” is all you can muster. Your teenage dream is here in this bed with you, bunching your shirt up against your neck and tilting his head down to suck a nipple into his mouth. He nibbles and slides his tongue across your chest, flicking it against the sensitive peaks, winding you tight.

Your hands loosen their hold of his hair the farther he kisses down your body. He kneels between your legs, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His skin looks golden in this light, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

His hand sweeps down your body, your hips instinctively lifting for him to peel your panties off, leaving you naked and ready for him in whatever way he’ll take you.

He watches you with a cocky smirk tremble underneath his watch, too blissed out to stay still. He’s barely touched you and you’re already totally disheveled, you can tell he likes it.

He breathes in your scent when he settles between your widespread legs, straining to fit his large shoulders between them.

He spreads you wide, tongue darting out, swiping across his plush top lip as he watches his fingers explore your dripping cunt.

His nose taps against your slick before his mouth engulfs you, his tongue painting you like a masterpiece.

A gasp and a moan escape your throat at the sweetness of his lips where you need him the most. His hand grips your thigh tight as a stern shush.

“S-sorry,” you whisper, placing your palm against your mouth.

Your DEA agent brother is just a room down the hall away. His good friend and ex work buddy’s lips are currently kissing and sucking your clit.

His tongue swirls around the wetness you’ve gushed out for him. Your head thuds against the pillow, teeth biting into your lips to keep you from moaning. It doesn’t work, a long “fuuuck” leaves your mouth. Javi unseals his mouth from you, wide brown eyes under furrowed, thick eyebrows give you a stern look, his mustache and mouth glistening with your wet. “My shirt,” he nods towards the crumpled up ball of green laying next to your head. “Use it,” he instructs, before dipping back into between your legs.

You grasp the shirt, stuffing the fabric in your mouth, breathing a sigh of relief at the extra layer of protection protecting you and Javier’s secret escapade. He’s now all over you, the taste of the beer left on his tongue still in your mouth, the feel of his tongue against your aching core, the sight of his dark hair between your thighs, the sound of his throat letting a low moan out against your cunt, the smell of him leftover on the shirt that now acts as a muzzle.

The bed squeaks as you begin canting your hips against him. A firm hand pushes down on your stomach, holding you in place, Javier’s mouth digging deeper in between your legs.

His shirt muffles your whimpers and cries, and when he sticks a finger into your entrance, you bite down on the soft cotton, tears springing in your eyes at the maddening frustration of staying quiet.

The shirt does little to muffle the sob you choke out when he adds a second finger, curling them inside you with expert precision. Your thighs tremble as you teeter on the edge. Javi's tongue flicks relentlessly against your clit, his fingers pumping in and out at a merciless pace.

You knew it, he’d be so fucking good at this.

You're so close, teetering on the precipice of an earth shattering orgasm. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your back arches off the bed. The shirt in your mouth barely muffles your desperate whimpers.

Suddenly, a loud creak echoes from the hallway. Footsteps. Steve.

Javi freezes, his eyes darting up to meet yours. You both hold your breath, your hearts pounding. Javier’s mouth stays planted against your cunt, his fingers lay still inside you. The footsteps pause outside your door for what feels like forever.

You can feel Javi’s breaths against your overheated core as he stays perfectly still.

A gentle knock on the door makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Hey, you awake?” Steve’s quiet voice comes through the door.

Javi’s eyes widen in panic. The bed creaks as gently extracts his fingers from inside you and pulls away, rubbing the slick of you off his chin onto your thigh. The bed creaks again, when he slowly lifts up.

You have to respond now. Shit.

You pull down the shirt. Mocking a loud yawn. “Yeah… I’m fine,” you manage. “Just–-uh–had a weird dream I think.’”

Your heart pounds against your chest while you wait for a response. Javi stays perfectly still, his eyes locked on the door.

“Alright,” he says finally. “Sleep well. G’night.”

“Good night,” you mumble.

His footsteps retreat down the hall, your head thuds against the bed with relief. Javi remains frozen, barely breathing until you hear the creak of Steve’s door opening and closing.

Javi’s eyes meet yours, he smirks at you mischievously with a raised eyebrow, his silent question asking if you want to continue.

You nod, spreading your legs wider for him. A lascivious smile spreads across his face before he dips his head back down, his tongue finding your clit.

His fingers slide back into you as his tongue swirls around your sensitive nub. You grab his shirt and stick it back in your mouth, biting hard and muffling the whimpers. He works you back up with perfect precision.

And when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot, you’re gone.

Your orgasm crashes over you, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as you writhe against his mouth. You can’t be loud, you must stay quiet.

His mouth doesn’t let up, licking and drawing out your climax, drinking down all that you offer him. Your nose huffs loudly, breathing in and out rapidly trying to catch your breath as the aftershocks subside.

He kisses your thigh, the bristle of his mustache tickles your sensitive flesh. He slowly licks and kisses his way up your body before he gently tugs his shirt from your mouth, replacing it with his lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands roam all over his smooth, broad shoulders feeling the firm muscles that lie underneath his soft skin.

“Javi?” you moan against his lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling away.

You can feel the hardness of him pressed against your thigh, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants.

You’ve wanted him for years, and now’s your chance, here in the guest bedroom of your brother’s white picket fence surrounded home.

“Will you fuck me?” you ask, before licking a line across his top lip.

He groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “Yes, but, you gotta be real fuckin’ quiet, okay?”

“Promise,” you whisper. "I'm... clean and on the pill. Javi... can I feel you?"

He rises up to hover over you. "Fuck... yes baby,” he growls.

You watch with your mouth agape, your legs spread wide and waiting, as he quickly shimmies out of his sweatpants.

He's thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum. His smooth body lays atop you, smothering you with his firm weight.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock teases your entrance before he slowly enters you. Oh, his wide cock stretches you divinely.

Your lip begins to hurt from biting down on it so hard, trying to keep quiet. He seals his mouth over yours, swallowing down your cries and moans as his hips roll against yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him into you deeper.

The bed creaks with the controlled power of each of his thrusts. You pray your brother can’t hear.

Javi steadies his thrusts, trying to keep quiet, the tension radiating off of him. He buries his face into your neck, his sharp nose pressing against your skin there. You can tell he wants to pound into your cunt, rattle the bed against the wall, take everything he can from your accepting pussy.

Your hands run down his back, feeling the flex of his muscles slick with sweat.

A moan escapes your mouth when he slowly pulls out before thrusting all of his length into you.

“Shh pretty girl, shhh,” he whispers. Balling up the edge of his shirt and sticking it into your mouth.

His eyes darken when you stare up at him, wide eyed with the bundle of green fabric muzzling your mouth.

He licks his way up your neck to your ear. He whispers “Fuck, you feel so good,” into your ear, his hot breath hitting against your skin. You whimper around his shirt at his words and his thick cock stretching you, hitting the spot you want him to hit the most with each thrust.

You pull the shirt out of your mouth. “Javi,” you breathe, “I’m close.” He nods. His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles.

It’s too much. You pull him down closer to you, burying your face in his neck to muffle your moans as you come undone all over his cock.

“That’s it,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as you pulse around and squeeze his cock. He slows his thrusts, letting you catch your breath as your blissed out body recovers. He kisses you sweetly. “You good?” he asks.

You nod, eyes heavy and body loose from your orgasm. You still want more. “More,” you manage to whisper.

He growls, suddenly pulling out and flipping you onto your stomach.

“On your knees,” he snarls, his large hands guide your hips up.

You comply, arching your back, presenting your overworked and wet cunt to him. He runs his hand over the curve of your ass before gripping your hips. He thrusts inside you, the coarse curls around the base of length soaking with the remnants of your orgasm.

He’s so fucking deep, his hips setting a pace slapping against the flesh of your ass.

“I know, I know,” he mutters softly. “You need to be quiet.”

You reach forward, grabbing his shirt and bringing it to your mouth to bite down hard on as he pounds into you from behind.

He grips your hips tighter, his thick fingers digging into your flesh with each thrust. His heavy breathing pants into the air, the bed creaks loudly underneath his force.

He slides in and out, your sensitive cunt feels every inch of him.

He leans over you, his chest searing against your back. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “You’re taking my cock so good, aren’t you? So fucking tight and wet.”

You push your back further against him, telling him to take all that he can from you.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he pants. “Such a good fucking pussy, going to cum all over you.”

You turn your head, letting go of the shirt from your mouth. “Cum for me Javi,” you whisper.

He nods, pulling out of your slick, and with a low groan, his white ropes of cum marks his territory all over your ass. You hope you'll forever feel the gentle taps of it against your skin as he empties himself.

“Fuck,” he pants, before rising from the bed and wiping the sweat off his brow. You collapse on the bed, your overworked limbs welcoming the softness of the mattress. He grabs his shirt, wiping it across himself before he cleans your skin with it. “Be right back back,” he whispers as he puts his sweatpants on.

You nod, watching him softly open the door and looking down the hall checking to make sure it’s safe. The soft click of the door leaves you alone with your racing thoughts. Remnants of Javier Peña’s cum lays on your skin… almost ten years after seeing that first photo of him.

He walks back in with a damp towel. “Spread for me,” he whispers. You obey, welcoming the warmth of the water against your overworked core. His touch is gentle against you.

“Do you know what time your brother usually gets up?”

“Usually around seven,” you answer, your eyes already growing heavy.

He nods, glancing down as he sets an alarm on his watch. "I’ll set my alarm for 6:45."

Before you can ask why, surprised that he’s staying, he pulls off his sweatpants and slips into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Good night Javi,” you sigh.

“Sweet dreams bonita.”

The alarm blares at 8:30, you groan, rolling over in the now empty bed. Hold on–did...was? You’re pretty sure you just dreamed the most vivid Javier Peña fantasy you’ve ever had… because that couldn’t have been real… until you see the bundled up green shirt laying next to you.

#javier pena #pedro pascal #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena #javi pena fic #javi pena x reader #javi pena x you #narcos fic

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 4 months ago

Note

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

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ruh--roh-raggy · 1 year ago

Text

This (William Afton x Fem! Reader SMUT)

Hello! Wow, I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that big of a response on my first fic so thank all of you so much!! I've got brain rot real bad about this man, so expect a lot of fics for him. Now, onto the fun part. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD, 18+ FIC AHEAD, MDNI, age gap (reader is in college, William is in his 40's/50's), jealous William, hinted that he killed your terrible coworker if you squint, thigh riding, unprotected sex, pnv sex, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, some spanking but it's nothing too intense, size difference (I just love me a big man what can I say?), cock warming, Reader is 5'0/152cm because that's how tall I am, whoops) dom William, slight degradation, definite praise, pining, domestic!William, OOC William, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, use of pet names sweetheart, honey, pretty little thing, bunny (I think that's everything, please let me know if I forgot any tags!)

Word count: 8,058

You can find my Masterlist here!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You tapped softly on your boss’s half open door. You heard him finish up a phone call, the receiver clicking as he hung up. “Come on in.” He calls cheerfully. You push open the door, his gaze softening as it landed on you.

“Mr. Afton, can I talk to you really quick?” You ask nervously, anxiously tracing over the cold brass doorknob with your finger.

“Of course you can. Shut the door, come on in.” You do as he says, you swallow thickly as the door clicks shut behind you. You sat in one of the stiff pizzaria chairs he had at his desk, the once vibrant clumps of geometric shapes beginning to fade with age. “What can I do for you sweetheart?” He folds his hands in front of him as he shoots you a small smile. You always found yourself growing flustered under his gaze, your eyes darted to the nameplate that sat on his desk, tracing over the neat gold letters as you tried to steady your pounding heart.

“I was just wondering if you could stop scheduling me with Kyle?” You mutter, cursing internally at how stupid your request sounded.

“What happened? He didn't hurt you, did he?” The sudden flash of anger in his voice was unmistakable.

“No, nothing like that. It just feels like he always goes out of his way to give me the worst jobs. A kid throws up in the ball pit, I have to clean it up. A parent gets too drunk and trashes a table, I'm the one on my hands and knees making sure there's no fragments of glass still stuck in the carpet. I know this probably sounds ridiculous, I'm not trying to start problems-”

“(Y/N).” His gentle tone makes you freeze. Your eyes drift up to meet his. He reaches across his desk, holding his hand out for you. You tentatively slip your hand into his, your breath shaky as you watch him trail his thumb over your knuckles. His skin was so warm, you looked so small and delicate compared to him. “I'll deal with Kyle, okay? You're too pretty to be doing those jobs anyways.” You can't help but blush as he winks at you. He stands up, his height allowing him to tower over you as he walks you to the door, his hand on the small of your back. “Have a good night sweetheart, I'll see you tomorrow.” He smiles down at you.

“Goodnight, Mr. Afton.” You smile coyly at him as you turn to leave. He leans against the door way, his arms crossing over his chest as he scans over the pizzeria.

“Kyle!” He barks. “Come see me at the end of your shift bud, we need to have a little chat.” You couldn't keep the smile off your face as you pushed out of the building.

When you came back the next day you expected to see Kyle seething with rage over whatever punishment Mr. Afton had dished out, but he was nowhere to be found. You wandered back towards your boss’ office, wanting to let him know you had arrived to start opening. “There's my favorite girl.” He grins as you poke your head through the doorway. “Come sit, I took care of opening prep, you relax.” He nods in the direction of one of the chairs across from him. He never takes his eyes off of you as you sit rigidly in the seat. “You look tired, would you like some coffee?”

“Oh, you don't have to trouble yourself.” He attempts to wave you off, both of your actions cut short by the sound of your stomach rumbling. “Excuse me.” You look away awkwardly.

“I guess something a little more substantial than coffee is in order here.” He stands, motioning for you to follow him. You trail behind him as he leads you into the kitchen, the smell of the greasy premade pepperoni pizza baking in the oven practically making your mouth water. He grabs the wooden peel, expertly flicking the pizza onto it and retrieving it from the industrial sized oven. “So you haven't eaten and you look exhausted.” You cringed slightly as you waited for him to chastise you, knowing how bad it looked that you weren't showing up to your job with your best foot forward. He sets the pizza on a metal tray, leaving it to cool as his focus directs itself onto you. He takes a few long, agonizingly slow strides towards you. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?” You found yourself immediately growing flustered at the sound of the familiar pet name. Mr. Afton had been using the endearment since you had started, yet hearing it roll so effortlessly off of his tongue never failed to make your cheeks grow warm and arousal to pool between your legs.

“Yeah, it's stupid.” You try to brush your earlier problems of the day away, not wanting to bring attention to what you believed would come off as a childish reason to be upset. Seeing the concerned looks in your boss’ eyes prompted you to continue. “I got into a fight with my roommate today and I ran out of time to eat because we were arguing. I'm sorry-”

“Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize.” A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice. “I'm worried, not upset.” His shoes enter your line of sight, which was currently trained on the floor, as he steps in front of you. A set of warm fingers ghost over the skin of your cheek, pushing back a stray tendril of hair that had fallen out of your messy attempt at tying it back. You slowly meet his hazy green eyes, a patient smile adorning his lips as he waits for his words to settle. You gave him a small nod in response. You walk out onto the main floor of the pizzeria, the eyes of the four life sized animatronics seeming to follow your every move. Although you had grown used to the sight of the vibrantly colored animals, there was something about them that still unnerved you. “Who's your favorite?” You jump slightly when Mr. Afton suddenly speaks up. You breathe out a laugh as you turn to face him.

“Bonnie,” his face lights up at your immediate answer, “I've always liked rabbits.” You join him in the small booth, he eyes you carefully as he serves you a piece of pizza on a napkin. “Thank you for the pizza, Mr. Afton.”

“William.” He corrects with a small smile. “There's no need to be so stiff outside of work hours, doll.”

You can't help but giggle at his playful tone. “Well, thank you for the pizza, William.” He straightens up slightly at the sound of you saying his name. You were honestly a bit surprised to say that you were having a good time. William was charismatic, funny, a little awkward but in a way that came off as endearing. You stood side by side with him in the kitchen, working in tandem to clean up the dishes you made from your impromptu lunch date. You kept finding your eyes drifting over to him, the sight of his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, his muscular forearms flexing as he twisted a rag inside of a cup. You swallowed thickly, quickly tearing your eyes away from him and back to the metal pizza pan.

“Right behind you, sweetheart.” William groans as he reaches around you to grab a dry rag. Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned into you. You feel his arm brush against your back and you dared to look over at him considering that you might never get the chance to be so close to him again, your little secret crush on your boss refused to let you miss that opportunity. You let out a small, startled squeak as you found him already looking at you. Everything about him seemed to only drag you in deeper as you got caught up in his gaze. The deep, musky smell of his cologne, his mossy green eyes holding you firmly in place. His arm wraps around your waist, your hands flying to his chest as he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours. It took a moment for your mind to catch up with what was happening to your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of being pressed tightly to him seeping into you as you let yourself give in to what you truly wanted. Your hands slid over the soft fabric of his shirt, your fingers just barely grazing over his collar to pull him closer when the main door to the pizzeria slammed open and the excited voices of your coworkers filed in. You startled apart, Williams eyes immediately averting to the floor as a look of shame rapidly spreads across his features. He mutters out a hurried apology as he pushes past you, through the kitchen doors, and directly into his office. You saw your friend Ashley jump as the door slammed behind him, eventually seeing you standing alone in the kitchen as your face dropped into your hands. You had no reason to be but you felt embarrassed. Your whole face burned as the moment replayed itself over and over in your head.

“What the hell was all of that?” Ashley exclaims in a hushed tone as she enters the kitchen.

“Nothing!” You turn to the sink, pretending to wash your hands as an excuse to not have to look at her. “Mr. Afton had an important call to take.” She eyes you curiously, knowing you weren't being honest with her. You felt sweat begin to bead at your temple under her scrutinizing gaze.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” She huffs playfully as she crosses her arms over her chest. She quickly closes the gap in between you, “but if you're fucking the boss and you're not telling me I'm going to be so mad.” You knew it was a joke but you were still a bit on edge from the earlier ordeal.

“Keep your voice down!” You snap, quickly looking over at his office door to see that it was, thankfully, still shut. She gasps, your nervous body language giving you away.

“Tell me everything.” She grabs you by the shoulders, forcing your attention back on her. “Is he good? Is he… y'know?” Her eyes flashing down to your crotch and back up. “Is he big?”

“Ashley!” You attempt to shush her again. “I'm not sleeping with Will-Mr. Afton.” You hurried to try and correct yourself, but your little slip up only added more fuel to the fire.

“Were you about to call him William?” She grills you, a wide, excited smile taking over her face. “Do you guys have pet names for each other? I hear him call you sweetheart all the time but I thought that was just because you're his favor-” You clamp a hand over her mouth, it was the only way you could think of to get her quiet.

“Just hang on,” you wait to see if she was actually done talking before pulling your hand away. “I came in early to open. I was supposed to be working with Kyle but he never showed. I think Mr. Afton might have fired him.”

“Did you finally go talk to him about that creep?” She asks as she leans up against the counter. You nod in response, “good, he was making your life a living hell here. Continue…” she prompts with a wave of her hand.

“I walk over to his office just to let him know that I'm here and he tells me that everything's already done-that’s not the important part.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself before telling her what had gotten you so frazzled. “He was helping me clean some dishes and he reached around me for the towel, so what was I supposed to do? Not look?” Ashley chuckles, being the one person who knew about your crush she understood how impossible that would have been for you. “I looked over at him and he was already looking at me and then he kissed me and then you guys came in-”

“Hold on. Pause.” She holds up her hands to get you to halt your recap. “He kissed you?” You nod, but before you had time to continue one of your coworkers kicked open the double doors to the kitchen.

“Alright ladies, I hate to interrupt, but I got some pizza to make.” He groans through his forced smile.

“We’ll talk about this later.” She whispers hurriedly as she ties her apron around her waist. You nod, copying her motions as you prepare to open for the day. Throughout your shift you kept thinking about the kiss. Did it mean something or was it just an impulse? Did William somehow know about your crush on him? You stood at the side of the pizzeria, unable to keep the smile off of your face as you watched him take a picture with an excited child. You found your mind wandering again, the delighted scream, pings, and whirrs of the room around you seemed to almost fade away. You could still feel his arm wrapped around your waist, how strong his broad chest was under the palms of your hands. You snapped yourself from your daydream, the glowing white eyes of the Spring Bonnie suit studying you carefully. You straightened up, hurrying off to the kitchen so you wouldn't be seen slacking. By the end of the night you had just about driven yourself crazy with questions. Questions you were determined to get answers to. You said goodbye to your coworkers, promising Ashley that you would catch her up when you were able to. You walk up to your boss’ door, a determined look etched into your features. You raised your fist, freezing just before knocking. Why was this so hard? He kissed you! If anything you should be furious! He had completely ambushed you out of nowhere and you had spent the whole day walking around in a fog because of it. But, part of you was worried about what his answer might be. It was easy to hide your feelings from him up until now; glances that lasted a little too long, walking a little too close to him so your fingers could brush his, it could all be passed off as if it were nothing. Now, you were standing in front of his door ready to charge in there to demand an explanation for the kiss not because you were upset with him… but because you were hopeful about what the implications of what that kiss could mean. Before you had the chance to decide for yourself what you were going to do the door opened. William froze at the sight of you standing on the other side. He sighs, raking a hand through his already messy hair.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry about earlier, I don't know what came over me.” Your heart cracked slightly at his apology. So, it really was just an impulse. “Can we… Can we talk about this? I think it might be better for both of us to get it all out in the open.” You were struggling to fight against the tears blurring your vision.

“I think I'm just going to go home, Mr. Afton.” You grimaced at the sound of your voice shaking.

“Sweetheart, I can't let you drive like that.” He carefully wipes away a tear that had slipped onto your cheek. Your lip quivered at the sound of his pet name for you, a soft sob breaking free from your chest as you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. William quickly pulls you into his arms, letting you hide against him. “That's it, let it out.” He says as he soothingly rubs your back. Your arms finally slid around his torso, he rocked you back and forth slightly as he waited for you to calm down. You sniffle as you pull back from him, his warm hand cupping your cheek. “You're even pretty when you cry.” He muses. Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. You allow him to wipe away any remaining trails of tears, realizing after avoiding each other all day that you missed being close to him.

“William,” your voice was a hoarse croak as you spoke. You place a hand over the one he has resting on your cheek. “I want to kiss you again… please.” His eyes widened slightly at the request. But, once he let your words sink in, he wasted no time granting your request. You stumbled back slightly as he kissed you passionately. You grab onto his collar, keeping him flush against you as you reveled in the sensation. One of his hands slaps haphazardly against the doorway as he guides the two of you inside, roughly kicking the door shut before slamming your back against it. He takes your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head in one swift movement. You whimpered softly as he pulled away from you, despite your desperate need to breathe you felt like you would die without his lips on yours. You had to look almost straight up in order to meet his eyes, a wild and hungry look dominating his gaze. He breathes out a chuckle at the sight of you, the look you gave him so full of need it nearly brought him to his knees.

“Such a pretty little thing you are, sweetheart.” He slowly swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, the flesh tender and swollen for the one mind numbing kiss he had granted you. “I can't tell you how long I've wanted you.” You whine as you feel his leg push in between your own. You were forced up onto your toes, struggling to contain the soft moan that bubbles up in your throat at the delicious pressure against your clit.

“Enlighten me.” You challenge, earning a deep, rumbling laugh from him.

“Surely, you must've known.” His head dips into the crook of your neck, biting you hard enough that you knew he would leave a mark behind. “I see you everyday; the way those tight little jeans mold to your ass, how your shirt is always pulled down just low enough to tease me…” you see the briefest look of jealousy flash through his eyes. “How those immature, snotty little college boys are constantly throwing themselves at you.” He pushes into you, his lips staying just out of reach as he keeps you pinned in place. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, he smirked as he felt you squirming against his thigh. “What's the matter sweetheart?” He asks sardonically. You were having trouble thinking straight. Every time you let your full weight sink into him it only made you need his touch more, his hot breath fanning over your lips made your whole body ache for him. “I think you know that no one could take care of you like I could, don't you?” You nod in response, your breathing growing noticeably quicker as he questioned you. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his dull green eyes searching your features for any sign of hesitation. “Well then how about I give you a night you'll never forget?” He smiles sharply at you.

In one sweep of his arm his entire desk is cleared off. Paperclips scatter across the floor alongside papers and whatever other trinkets decorated the wood surface. He grabs your hips and pulls you roughly to him, his lips ferociously meeting yours in a kiss that knocked all the air from your lungs. Your initial fight for dominance over the kiss was very short lived. If anything, William found your defiance rather cute. He growls against your lips, a sound that has your knees threatening to buckle. His hands slide from your hips down to your ass, groaning as he gives it a firm squeeze. You squeak as he easily lifts you from the floor, guiding your legs around his waist as he sets you on his desk. He fumbles blindly with the button of your jeans, eventually being able to start working then down your legs. “I can't wait to fucking ruin you.” He presses a hand flat against your chest, pushing you back onto his desk. You struggle not to blush, turning away from him so he hopefully wouldn't notice. Your fingernails dig into wood as he teases at your entrance with his fingers. “Such a cute little bunny.” He smirks. “Already so wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet.” He takes your chin between his fingers, turning you to look at him. “Look at me sweetheart, I wanna see those pretty eyes when I fuck you senseless.” His hand dips under the hem of your shirt, his large, warm hand roaming your bare torso as you lay compliantly before him. He roughly grabs your jaw, watching your expression carefully as he eases his fingers into you at an agonizingly slow pace. A strangled gasp breaks free from your throat as his digits bottom out in you, your gummy walls clenching around them.

He chuckles as you roll your hips, searching desperately for any type of relief. He begins to rock his fingers inside of you in time with your movements, taking his time to fully stretch you out in preparation for what was to come. As he gradually increased his pace the louder your moans became. You gripped tightly onto the arm that had moved from your jaw to the desk next to your head, your nails digging little crescent divots into his skin. “You look so fucking pretty like this.” He looks over you, drinking in the way your body writhed from his touch.

“William.” You whimper his name.

“What is it, bunny?” He coos. “What does my needy girl want, hm?”

“Want… want to touch you.” Your words came out slurred as you fought through your moans and the mind numbing pleasure he was inflicting on you.

He tuts at your demand, giving you a disappointed pout. “Poor thing, you want to touch me?” You nod furiously. He fingers thread into your hair, giving the strands a rough tug to ensure that your eyes are on his. “Ask nicely and maybe I'll let you.”

“Please.” Your wide innocent eyes pricked with tears as you gazed up at him longingly. He hummed, pondering over your pathetic state as he continued to slowly rock his fingers inside of you. “William, please, please let me touch you. I want… I need you.” Your begging came cracking out in a sob, tears sliding down your face as you grew more desperate to get your hands on him. William chuckles at the sight of you.

“Such a needy little thing” He smirks. He lets the request hang in the air for a moment, the only sound filling the room was the squelching of your arousal in his hand as he fingered you. His lips land on your pulse, causing you to shiver. He takes your wrist in his massive hand, guiding it to the top button of his dress shirt, giving you permission to start undressing him. Your fingers shook as you worked at the fastenings, Williams pace never slowing making it difficult for you to focus on the task at hand. Your struggling was going to be well rewarded. Once you had undone the final button on his shirt, William grabbed you roughly by the collar, hauling you to a sitting position so you were now sitting face to face with him. You whined at the sudden emptiness of him removing his fingers, but your annoyance was short lived. You pushed the dress shirt from his shoulders, William making quick work of discarding his undershirt into an empty chair in the room. You just about drooled at the sight of him. His broad shoulders and strong arms from years of working on machines in his shop flexed and shifted under the dim office lighting. You couldn't tear your eyes off of him as he started loosening his belt. You blush as he chuckles, realizing you had been caught staring. “Like something you see, sweetheart?” He asks in an amused tone. He prowls over to you, the buckle of his belt jangling as it hangs limply as his side, his pants falling low on his hips.

You bite your lip, reaching out for him once he’s close enough. You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers threading into his hair as his lips crash into yours. You run a hand over his chest, the thick carpet of coarse hair tickling your palm. In one swift movement your shirt is pushed over your head, your breasts bouncing slightly as they fall back into place after the disruption. William admired the soft lace that complimented your skin. His hands slide over your waist and up your back until he reaches the clasp of your bra. He fumbles with it a few times until the tension of the elastic finally relaxes. He takes his time removing your final article of clothing. The straps are eased off your shoulders one at a time, his beard ticking your bare skin as he places delicate kisses anywhere he could reach. Goosebumps spread across your chest as the fabric is finally fully removed, William’s eyes drifting down to get a full view of your perfect form. He lets out a primal growl at the sight before his lips latch into yours again. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you to the very edge of his desk in order to line his cock up with your entrance. You moan into his mouth as he sheathes himself full inside you in one hard thrust. Your breath comes out in long, shaky exhales as you struggle to adjust to his size. Even with the prep from his fingers he still stretches you to a point that makes you feel like you're about to rip in half. William was a lot bigger and thicker than any guy you had been with previously. You already felt drunk just from the sensation of him bottoming out in you. “Eyes on me, bunny.” He whispers in a gentle tone. Your eyes flutter open, you hadn't realized you had even shut them to begin with, meeting his hazy green ones. You cry out as he gives you a single sharp thrust, a mixture of pain and pleasure burning white hot through your body as you struggle to take all of him. He lets out a satisfied hum as he studies your fucked out expression. “Already cock drunk, hm?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours to keep your attention on him. With every snap of his hips it brought you closer and closer to your climax, your moans impossibly loud in the small, cramped office. “You wanted this all along, didn't you sweetheart? You knew those stupid little boys could never make you feel like this.” He snarls. “Now, here you are, about to cum on my cock.” Drool had started to leak out of the corner of your mouth as you struggled to keep your eyes on his. He dips a hand between your legs, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“William!” You moan out his name, his free arm wrapping securely around you to hold you tightly against him.

“Such a dirty girl, fucking someone nearly twice your age.” He chuckles cruelly, his eyes darken as they meet yours through your haze. “Pathetic.” Degrading you like that seemed to unleash something primal in him. His thrusts somehow managed to get faster and more brutal. You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you, desperately crying out his name as you clawed against his back. His hands wrap under your thighs, lifting you from the desk slightly in order to get better leverage. “Fuck.” He groans, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he approaches his end. He kisses you hard as he finishes, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls. You both stayed locked in your embrace for a moment, waiting for your breathing to calm down. You wince as he pulls out of you, a slight sting as your absurd cunt attempts to clamp around nothing. He looks around the room for something to clean you up with, deciding on his shirt when nothing else seemed plausible. He gingerly reaches in between your legs, a softness and hesitancy you didn't expect after the evenings most recent events. You let out a soft hiss at the slight bit of pain you felt as he cleaned you up. He soothingly caresses your thigh with his free hands, shooting you an apologetic look from his position situated in between your legs. You studied him for a moment, his gaze distant, and hazy as it trailed to the floor.

“William.” Your soft voice drifted over his ears, bringing his attention back to you. You adjusted your position so you could sit up. “Come here.” He stands, even sitting on his desk he still towered over you. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your chin on his soft stomach. You trail your hands over his back, his skin slightly sticky with sweat.

“I’m sorry if I took things too far-”

“You didn’t.” His gruff voice was cut off with your quiet reassurance. “You were amazing.” You give him a coy smile before pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. A small smile breaks out on his face as he chuckles at your glimmering expression.

“Come on bunny, let’s get you dressed.” He combs his fingers through your hair, “although I will never get tired of looking at your beautiful body.” He winks causing you to blush, you lightly slap his chest. He places a kiss on your forehead before collecting your clothes. You feel eyes on you as you’re getting dressed, you can’t help but smirk when you look over your shoulder so see William staring at your ass. You make a show of stepping into your panties, adjusting them so they are perfectly in place before shimmying into your jeans. William was practically drooling as he watched your supple flesh jiggle as you worked yourself into the tight clothing. You place one final kiss to his burly chest before he slips his undershirt back over his head. He trails a finger over your jaw. “I was hoping we could make this a more than one time thing… Maybe I can take you out to dinner after work some night?” He asks with a charming, lopsided smile.

“I’d really like that William.” You push yourself up on your toes, having him meet you halfway to place a chaste kiss to your lips. “Goodnight.” You whisper with a smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He breathes out a laugh as you both slowly pull away. You grab your jacket and bag from the employee locker room, giving William one small wave as you pass by his office on your way out. You fell into your driver seat with a groan, sticking your keys in the ignition, your heart still pounding in your chest. You turned the key expecting your engine to rumble to life, but your car refused to start. You tried again and again, falling against the steering wheel with an aggravated sigh. You kicked open the door and trudged back inside. William gave you a confused look as you walked back up to his door. “Everything alright?”

You grew embarrassed over the fact you had to ask. You never had anyone who was able to teach you about cars, you wouldn’t know the first thing about trying to find the problem yourself. “My car won’t start. I hate to ask, but could you come look at it?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll take care of it.” Your heart flutters in your chest at him taking charge of the situation. You definitely could get used to having him around, there was something about his unwavering confidence that made you long for him even more. You follow him back outside, watching him carefully as he examines your engine, a massive black flashlight held tightly in his hand. “I see the problem.” He groans as he reaches to point something out to you. “You need a new timing belt.” He points out the problem, excitedly going through the mechanics as you listened attentively. “You can leave your car here, I’ll pick you up a new one tomorrow.” He stuffs his hand in his pocket. He twirls his keys around his pointer finger. “Let me just go lock the door and I’ll drive you home.” You nod, growing giddy over the fact you would get to spend more time with him. He wraps his arm around your shoulders as he leads you around back to his car. You slide stiffly into his passenger seat. The inside of his car was pristine, some vintage model muscle car you didn’t know the name of. William’s hand envelops your thigh as he drives, ever so often giving the soft skin a gentle squeeze as you direct him to your off campus apartment. You lived in the not so great part of town, even outside of Hurricane standards. Shootings, stabbings, human trafficking, all of it had happened somewhere in your neighborhood. You noticed William’s expression grow more concerned as you drove. You eventually pulled up in front of your building, a rickety looking triple decker that looked like it would collapse from a slightly too strong gust of wind.

“Well this is me.” You state softly with a slight shrug of your shoulders. William sighed as he stared up at your building.

“You live here by yourself?” He glances at you in the passenger seat as he asks. You nod in response. “Bunny, would you like to come spend the night at my house. It’s dangerous for a girl like you to be by herself out here.”

“Spend the night with you?” You repeat his request back to him, he nods slowly, worried he crossed a line. “If you’re offering, I'm definitely not going to say no.” You lean across the cab of the car, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The drive back to his house was spent mostly in silence, every so often his hand would drift from your thigh to bringing your knuckles to his lips. You left the main part of town, the houses you passed becoming few and far between as the sides of the road were taken over by tall fir trees. You pulled up in front of a cozy looking house, the outside paint faded from years of abuse from the harsh Utah weather.

“Home sweet home.” Me mumbles with a lopsided grin. You trail closely behind him as you walk up to the door, jumping at every snapping twig and animal scurrying through the brush. “There’s nothing to be scared of sweetheart, I’ll keep you safe.” He smiles down at you, keeping you tucked into his side as he unlocks the door. He gently nudges you inside first, following closely behind you. The second the door clicks shut William’s lips are on yours again, a flustered sigh escaping you as you melted into him. “I’m going to get dinner started.” He mumbles against your lips.

“Would you like some help?” He nods, motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen.

“I would love some.” He grins at you. The two of you worked side by side to prepare dinner, every so often you would catch William stealing glances at you out of the corner of your eye. “Honey.” He suddenly speaks up, you turn to face him only for him to pull you into a kiss. “You just sit here and look pretty, I’ll finish this up.” His large hands wrap around your waist, he lifts you from the floor and sets you on the counter with ease. He hums as he works beside you, easily recreating his recipe from memory. Always keeping you on your toes, he was making homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese. He takes quick pauses, caging you in between his arms on the counter as he gives you rushed kisses that leave your head spinning. He holds out his hand for you, a gesture you gladly accept. He helps you down from the counter, balancing your plates and bowls on his arm. You sit across from each other at the small dining room table. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a shit hole like this?” He asks with a chuckle.

“Unfortunately this shit hole has one of the best colleges in the state.” You respond with a laugh of your own.

“What’s your major?”

“Mechanical engineering.” You respond the moment he finishes his question. He looked very perplexed by your answer.

“What made you want to take that up?” He leaned forward, completely focused on you alone.

“Well, honestly, you did.” You blush a bit as you respond. “The animatronics you make are phenomenal. I hope one day I can be half as talented as you are.” He looks away bashfully, not used to such direct flattery.

“Maybe I can have you help out in the workshop sometime.” He offers with an excited glint in his eyes.

“If it means spending more time with you I would love to.” You shoot him a flirtatious smile. You find yourselves drifting closer together as you clean up after dinner. You gathered up your plates, standing on your toes to try and put them in the cabinet with the rest. You let out a frustrated sigh as you struggled to reach. The warmth of William’s body pressing into yours from behind made you freeze.

“I got it sweetheart.” He chuckles, taking the plates from your hands. “Such a cute little thing you are.” He whispers next to your ear making you shiver. You squeal as he lifts you from the floor, taking you in his arms as he carries you upstairs. He tosses you onto the bed, stripping out of his clothes with a groan, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. You can’t help but smirk slightly as you grab him by the wrist and pull him in to kiss you. “Strip, I wanna hold you.” He commands. You decide to give him a little show, taking your time to peel out of your jeans, swaying your hips as you pull your top over your head. You stripped out of your lingerie before straddling his lap. His hands knead your ass, rocking you gently against the already half hard erection in his boxers. He pulls you into bed, shutting off the lights before joining you himself. He slings an arm over your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. You bite your lip, shifting your hips as you feel his cock press into your back. The moon cast in through the window, basking the room in a dull silver glow. You hear William’s breath catch in his throat as you press your ass into his throbbing member. “Someone’s needy.” He chuckles, his breath hot against his ear. “What’s the matter bunny, need me to fill you up?” You nod, letting out a soft whine as you push back into him again. He places a kiss just below your ear, spreading your legs with his hand as he lines himself up with your entrance. You let out a broken moan as he slowly pushed inside of you.

“Holy fuck.” You gasp, your fingers digging into his forearm as you grab him tightly as your walls stretch painfully around him. “Wow.” Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back in your head. His fingers slid around your throat, putting a delicious pressure on your neck.

“Such a good bunny, taking me so well.” His meticulous hand placement was starting to make you feel light headed, the mixture of the sensation and his praise making you dizzy with dopamine. You moan as he rolls his hips slightly. “You feel so good squeezing around my cock.” He purrs before placing a kiss on your cheek. You squirmed and whined as you lay there, impaled on his throbbing cock. William groaned at how wet you were, he could feel your juices dripping down the base of him. “So pretty sweetheart.” He coos, chuckling at your desperate state. His arm tightens around you, rolling his hips and causing you to cry out. You cursed as he pushed impossibly deep inside of you, your body moving instinctually as you bounced on his cock. He groans, his hips snapping up to meet yours. Your moans grew louder and more fervent with every thrust, his tip kissing the perfect spot inside of you everytime. Your thighs started to shake as you felt your climax creeping up on you. “Are you going to cum for me sweetheart?” He asks in a sweet voice. You nod, biting your lip to try and muffle your moans. You yelp as he suddenly delivers a sharp slap to your ass. “I want to hear you bunny.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes sir.” You gasp, letting your moans fall freely from your mouth. You let out a high pitched whine as your orgasm hung joust out of reach. You moan out his name, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out in pleasure. He reaches a hand in between your legs and swipes his fingers over your clit.

“So good for me.” He praises you. He wraps his hands around your waist, helping you fuck yourself faster on his cock. You scream his name as your orgasm rips through you, sobbing as he fucks you through your climax. Your whole body shook, your hand gripping weakly onto his wrist. “I got you sweetheart.” He whispers, settling himself deeply inside of you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you nestled into his soft pillows. He pulls the comforter up around your shoulders. You smiled at the scent of his musky cologne. Every small shift from him made you whine, after letting you rest for a while he began to rock his hips again. Small gasps and sighs falling from your lips as he tenderly fucks into you. “I’m gonna fill you up.” He groans, his thrusts growing uneven and stuttering every so often.

“Please.” You moan softly. Hearing your soft voice only seemed to spur him on. His slow deep thrusts had both of you moaning. You held on tightly to William’s arms, wanting to be pressed as close to him as possible. He groans your name as he finishes, his hips stuttering as he pushes as deep inside of you as he can manage. He places soft kisses to the nape of your neck as he pulls you into his chest. You found yourself easily drifting off in his arms, before you knew it you had drifted off into a dreamless sleep. When you woke up you rolled over, cuddling into his warm back. You placed a soft kiss to a couple of the faded scars on his shoulder.

“Well good morning sweetheart.” He hums as he rolls over and pulls you into his chest. “You wanna stay in bed while I get breakfast started?” His voice raspy and deeper than normal as he fought off the thickness of sleep.

“Can you stay in bed just a little longer.” You put, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“Sure, anything for you sweetheart.” He says with a smile and a kiss to your forehead. You laid on top of his chest, your fingers trailing through his chest hair as you talked about the plan for the day. He places a soft kiss to your lips as he slides out from underneath you to go get dressed. You cuddle up into the blankets, watching the muscles in his back flex as he gets dressed. A little while later he returned with a tray full of food, setting it in between the two of you. The two of you chatted pleasantly over breakfast, William consistently making you smile and laugh. “I’m going to head out to the garage, take your time getting ready, I’ll be out there when you’re done.” You grab him by the collar, keeping his lips on yours for a little longer than normal. He shoots you a wink as he slips out of the bedroom. You took your time getting ready, slipping into one of his shirts, the oversized clothing falling half way down your thighs. You washed your face and fixed your hair before wandering downstairs to find William. You heard the sound of powertools and pushed through the door. William stood with a welding mask on, his shirt discarded over a nearby chair. His skin, completely drenched in sweat, glowed in the dim overhead lighting. Streaks of grease dragged down his neck and across his stomach from where he had rubbed his hands across his skin. He flips his mask off when he notices you entered his workshop. “Hey bunny.” He grins. You saunter over to him to look over his expert work.

“You really are incredible, William.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he clears his throat, a noticeable blush on his face. You stood by him, allowing him to walk you through his process, an arm wrapped around your waist as he kept you tucked safely against him.He cursed as he looked up and noticed the time.

“We’re gonna be late.” He takes your hand, leading you inside. He pulls you into a heated kiss as he helps you out of your borrowed clothes. He picks you up and carries you into the shower. You yelped and giggled as your back pressed into the frigid wall. William carefully lets down your hair before allowing you to wet it. You sigh as he works shampoo into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You couldn’t help but stare as you watched the soapy water run down his body. He wraps you up in a fluffy towel, retrieving your work clothes as you dried off. You both ran to his car, laughing as you fell into the front seats. “I’ll run out and grab the timing belt for your car after I check in on Freddy’s.” He promises. You nod, a bit sad that your stay with him was over so quickly. You fall into him as he turns sharply into the parking lot. He tilts your chin up with a finger, a softness in his eyes as he studies your features. His eyes flash down to the dark bruises and bitemarks that littered your neck. “Are you, um… are you okay with people knowing about this?” He asks with a slight wavering in his voice.

“This?” You ask with a coy smile as you raise your eyebrow at him.

“Us.” He blurts out before swallowing thickly. You lean in ,placing a soft kiss against his lips.

“Only if you are.” He breathes out a soft laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He walks around to your side of the car as you’re gathering your things, opening your door for you. You thank him softly as he helps you out. You link your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. He holds the door open for you, wrapping his arm around your waist before pressing his lips to yours in one long, loving kiss.

“I’ll see you after work, bunny.” He winks before slipping off to his office. You smile as you watch him head out, adjusting his tie and greeting customers as he passes by. You turn to look out over the pizzeria, meeting Ashley’s shocked expression. She speed walks over to you, her eyes immediately falling to your abused neck.

“What happened to catching me up?” She yell whispers at you.

“Things might have gotten a little more serious than just a kiss.” You admit awkwardly.

“Well no shit, look at the hickey’s he gave you.” You smile as you catch his gaze from his position seated at his desk.

“He wants to make sure everyone knows I’m his.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery (I think that's everyone, if you'd like to be added to the tag list or I forgot you please let me know!!)

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promenadewithme · 7 days ago

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Twelve days of Christmas - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader Word Count: 1.8K words Warnings: sexual innuendo, mentions of sex, slight angst, established marriage, divorce, the holidays, idk what triggers you so tell me if I should add anything else. a.n.: sorry for taking a few days to upload this, i've been christmas shopping and got down with some kind of flu that has me feeling unwell. I promise I'll post more if you guys like this, though.

part 1 part 2 part 3

“He’s getting away, Barnes” Stark reprimanded through the com in James’ ear “Forget to eat breakfast today? Where is that abiding need to keep the streets of New York safe? That unwavering stamina? Don’t tell me you’re getting old.”

The pokes had him grinding his teeth and stomping harder down the stairs. He forced himself to calmly answer “Your mother had no complaints last night.”

A distant cackle came through the com, which he imagined could have only been Thor, before Stark quipped “Then where the hell is your head at, Barnes?”

At my daughter’s recital that started 40 minutes ago all the way across town, thanks for asking. James thought with a moody frown on his face as he started jumping down the flights of stairs.

“Why don’t you do the chasing for a change?” he sassed, catching a glimpse of the assailant’s clothes just as he turned a corner.

Having been in the military as a young adult, one would expect more respect for the boss. But James was cranky, would rather be with his family, and was not in the mood for Stark’s cockiness. Besides, he was the best private detective in the agency and Stark knew it.

James picked up his pace, mere meters away from the target, only for the emergency exit door to slam open into the criminals’ face, with none other than Tony Stark on the other side.

“I don’t do the running.” He answered, smugness written all over his face “That’s what I pay you for.”

With a roll of his eyes and a huff, James bent down to search the man’s pockets. Two guns, four knives and what sure looked a lot like chloroform, were handed over to Bruce – the forensics guy, who accepted them with a tight-lipped awkward smile.

The man on the floor, a stalker that had been chasing one of their clients for the past months, attempted to get up. ‘Attempted’ being the key word considering James handcuffed him in seconds, getting halfway to the vehicle before his boss could reach him.

“Nice work today, kid.” He praised as James closed the door to the police car that waited outside.

Stark had friends in very important places, friends who appreciated the help that his company provided. Both monetary and otherwise. The police force was one of them, despite their motto being ‘doing all the men in blue could not do’.

“Thanks, man.” He replied while nodding at Steve, the police officer they usually worked with and his childhood friend.

“You can go home now; I’ve got it from here.” Stark patted his back as Steve drove away.

“I still have to write up the report and tell our client we caught the guy.”

In all honesty, James didn’t know why he didn’t accept. He wanted to go home, to go to his wife and baby girl. He also knew that he had a job to do, a job that wouldn’t finish itself.

“I’ll do that.” He reassured, earning an eyebrow raise from James, who was sure he had never touched paperwork in his life. With a huff and an eyeroll, he admitted “Fine, I’ll get Pepper to do it.”

“Pepper already has enough on her plate having to babysit you.” James replied, walking to his car.

Tony followed close behind “How about you let me worry about Pepper and you go home to your wife. Unless you want to do it the other way around, I’d be fine with that too. Tell me, how has beautiful (y/n) been - ”

He was cut off by a low growl emitted from James’ throat. His wife was beautiful, it was a fact, one he did not mind people noticing. Except when it came to Tony, the biggest playboy known to man.

“Down boy.” Stark lifted his hands in surrender “You should really let go of all that pent up energy. You know, there’s this reiki place down the street from - ”

“I don’t need to unwind.” He lied through his teeth.

James desperately needed to let it all out, preferably in his wife. The problem was that most days he got home after you were fast asleep and left before you awoke. It was hell, it was torture. It meant jacking off in the shower to the thought of you while being careful to not make too much noise, even though it was never really enough, not the same as you. It meant having way too much sexual energy and lashing out on everyone.

“Whatever you say, Barnes.” He sighed in defeat “But I do think you should take the rest of the year off. You’ve been my top employee of the year, it’s almost Christmas, just… Have a little fun for once. Take your wife on a date, take your kid ice skating, hell go crazy and rent a cabin in the woods. As much as this James is good for business, I miss the old Bucky. Corny and in love as he might have been, he was also a pretty decent guy. Besides, the clients are starting to get scared of that scowl of yours.”

Maybe it was time for a break; to spend some time with his girls, God knows he missed them.

“I’ll think about it.” He nodded, unlocking his car.

And that he did. James thought about it on the slow drive to Olivia’s school, he thought about it when he saw that all the chairs were already stacked, he thought about it on his way home, and when he saw your disappointed face as he walked through the door.

You looked so beautiful, all dolled up and Christmassy. You also looked broken, tired. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion it was because of him.

Closing the door behind him, he measured his next words, but nothing came out. No excuses, no explanations. He knew he was running; he just didn’t know why.

“You missed her recital.” Your voice came out hoarse and he realized your eyes were puffy. The realization that he had made you cry made James’ heart sink to his stomach.

“I know.” He whispered, feet plastered to the floor, unable to move from the door. Like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

“You are never home.”

“I know.”

“You come home after midnight every single day.”

“I know.”

“She misses you, I-” you halted before admitting “I miss you.”

That was when he found it in himself to move, to kneel before you and kiss both your hands while apologizing.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Left his lips with every kiss he planted all over your hands, before resting his face on your thighs.

Tears filled your eyes again and it took all your strength not to back down, but you said it.

“James, I want a divorce.”

His heart stopped, and it sped, and it broke into a million pieces. You watched as his head slowly rose, his distressed gaze meeting yours.

“What?” he couldn’t have heard you right, could he? There was no way he could have messed up this badly.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You said, voice breaking “I can’t wake up every day knowing you won’t be here, I can’t listen to you coming home in the middle of the night and leaving before I can say goodbye, I don’t know what to do for you to love me. I’ve tried everything and I never seem to be enough for you.”

“No, doll, please.” He looked deep into your soul, holding both of your hands, afraid that if he let go, he would lose you forever, knowing there was a chance he already had “I love you. I love you so much. Please, we can work this out. Don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” you seethed, untangling your hands from his and standing “No, James, I’m not the one who is leaving. You are the one who left. You are the one who runs away from his family, who overworks, who jerks himself off in the middle of the night instead of having sex with his own wife, who doesn’t even care to show up. If you truly loved me, if you loved us, you would be here. You would have been there today, when Liv needed you present.”

“I know I messed up but let me make it up to you. I can be present, I can come home earlier, I want to have sex with you.” He was on his knees; he did not know what he could say to make you believe him.

“James, it’s been eight months since I had an orgasm.” You said, walking into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. Anything to ease your nerves “I want a divorce.”

He followed you like a lost puppy; it would have been cute if your heart wasn’t weeping. James racked his brain, thinking of anything that could make you stay, that could help you change your mind. You were stubborn, the only person who could ever make you soft was Livvie. It was like a lightbulb went on in his brain. Liv. She was the key, the bond.

“Okay.” He said, even though it was the last thing he meant.

“What?”

It was what you wanted, right? So why did it feel like someone stepped on the already shattered pieces of your heart? Maybe, deep down, you wished he would fight for you.

“We can get a divorce.” He nodded slowly “But I want to give Olivia one last happy Christmas. Think about what it would do to her little mind if we separated during the holidays. It’s what, ten days till Christmas now?”

“Twelve as of tomorrow.” You answer, seeing his point.

“Stark gave me the rest of the year off. Let’s make the happiest memories with her, ones she will remember and not be traumatized by, let her have one last Christmas. Let us have one last Christmas.”

You considered his words. Liv was six now, she was definitely old enough to remember this divorce and James was right, it could potentially make the holidays traumatic in some way. That was the last thing you wanted. It was only twelve days, right? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Alright.” You conceded and James let out the air he was holding in “Twelve days.”

“We pretend nothing happened, we act happy and in love, we make this the perfect Christmas. Deal?” he outstretched his hand, afraid that any other form of contact would make you push him away.

“Deal.” You took his hand, letting it linger as you looked into his somber grey eyes. Oh, how you would miss those, how you missed them already.

What to Liv would be the perfect Christmas, to you was the hardest goodbye. Would you be able to spend 12 days without changing your mind? Would James be able to spend them without letting you down again? Remember all the times he wasn’t there. A small voice uttered in your mind. It was enough for you to remove your hand from his and say goodnight. Twelve days would go by in a flash, you could do this. For Liv.

taglist: @ordelixx, @julvrs, @milanaasblog, @buckystevelove, @galactict3a , @ilovetaquitosmmmm , @tpwkcaryslizb , @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach

If you enjoy my work and are able to contribute, please leave me a tip here 🫶

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel x female reader #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #marvel fic #christmas fic

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drdemonprince · 20 days ago

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For the last eighteen years (the entirety of my adult life), I have never lived in a place longer than twenty-four months.

If you’re a renter, you know the deal: one apartment has leaks coming from the ceiling, thanks to a bathtub upstairs that the landlord never sealed up; in the next, you can hear skittering in the walls. I get a new job, so I have to head a mile south to find a commute that is tolerable. The relatively affordable one-bedroom on the corner where the ambulances are always blaring gets bought out, so the rent shoots from $900 to $1200 per month. Over and over the leaf blower of economic progress has expelled the flimsy debris of my life from the corners where it has settled.

There were less prosaic reasons for the many moves, too, like the 55-year-old roommate who would bang on my door at six in the morning accusing me of sampling her milk and let her dog shit on my rug. Or the boyfriend who stalked me after we broke up in graduate school, who would sit in the parking lot outside my window curled up into an angry, devastated ball, shrieking and crying until somebody came out the back exit and he could rush in to get me. I left the rug behind when I moved, because it had gotten stained. And when I escaped from the boyfriend, I left behind all the books from graduate school that reminded me of him, too.

As a renter (especially one with a limited income) you never have any control over your surroundings. Where you live, how much space you have, what pests reside there, what works in the building and what doesn’t, how things get fixed, if things get fixed — it’s all determined by market forces and landlord whims. Nothing is permanent, and everything is uncomfortable, so you learn to keep your life light and ready to be picked up and dashed away with at the first sign of trouble.

I never really learned to settle down into a place and let my weight expand gently all over it. It was better not to count on anything. Every time that I moved, I culled my possessions: the vintage exercise bike that I brought with me from Ohio got left behind when I darted from a depressing, windowless spot in Roger’s Park to a tiny studio in Lakeview. When the studio in Lakeview had cockroaches crawling up the bathtub drain, I found a dupe of a subletter and left behind my desk and half my kitchen items, and used a $40 folding table from Aldi as my counter, dining room table, and workstation for the next five years.

That’s one thing that people don’t talk about, when they complain about landlords: how much disregard for your surroundings that renting breeds in you. It’s not only that the owner of your building never cleans the pipes. It’s also that you have no reason to feel invested in the pipes’ long-term functioning, and every reason to feel bitter about the thousands of dollars you’re already wasting on a broken building each year.

And so you buy the Drain-o, even knowing it does damage. You don’t invest in a hair trap, because it shouldn’t be your job. Maybe you even flush kitty litter down the toilet, as one neighbor of mine did, because why the fuck shouldn’t you? It almost feels like revenge to wreck a place that was never yours, even though the only people who will suffer the consequences are the poor broke renters who come after you.

There is no gratitude, no sense of continuity — only a steady march of expenses and breakdowns that never stop, until you’re kicked back on the street again.

But this June, after almost twenty years and fifteen moves across various apartments and sublets, I have finally arrived at a place where I might be able to stay a long time. I’m no longer paying a landlord’s bills with my wages. I have become, as Eula Biss puts it, the husband of a space. This home is my duty to protect, to build up into something that might last for me and everyone else who passes through it.

Suddenly I can see the consequences of my actions: A stick of incense left burning on the bathroom counter leaves three small, orange marks I have to buff out with a scrubbing sponge and a layer of Barkeeper’s Friend. When I ignore a leak from the hot water spigot that runs over the side of the tub, the liner swells up with moisture and has to be cut out and replaced. Life is no longer lived in pay periods, but in years. Unattended problems only get worse over time, and everything is riding on me.

I wrote about making a home, adopting a cat, and learning to let my life have weight. You can read the full essay for free (or have it narrated to you by the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com

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whollyjoly · 3 months ago

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i just want to take a second for the absolute legend, james earl jones, who passed away today.

the voice of darth vader himself.

you defined my childhood (and, honestly, most of my adult life) in a way that cant be put into the words. the terror and fear and power you put behind vader made him such an incredible villain, but also the pain and the loss and the love for his family you voiced made him feel so real and so human, even behind the mask. it's so amazing how voice actors are able to bring such expression, emotion, and life to a character. ESPECIALLY one that solely exists in a mask! there's no facial expression, no visible emotion that we can see. all we have is some basic movements and a voice - and your voice, sir, was what made vader into one of the most iconic characters in all of film and tv history. how you were able to show such power and anger and certainty and resignation and grief and finally, relief? when all you see is a mask? its just...mind blowing.

and your love for the character was so tangible!! voicing vader in countless projects until 2016!!! almost 40 years of such an incredible legacy!!

my favorite star wars movie of the skywalker saga is return of the jedi. in it are my favorite scenes in all of star wars - luke and vader on endor, and then the throne room scene with luke facing off against darth vader and the emperor.

we see vader as such a force for evil across most of the original trilogy. hell, even in the stuff that came out later that you voiced (revenge of the sith, rebels, rogue one) - vader is fucking terrifying.

but there's such an amazing shift in vader when we see him interact with luke for the first time since the reveal of their relationship. luke is trying to convince vader to turn, to leave with him and disobey the emperor. there is such a....weight, for lack of a better term, that you give vader's responses that stole my breath away from the moment i first heard it. you managed to take this villain, this boogeyman of the star wars universe clad in black armor and machinery, and made him feel so incredibly, beautifully human.

and when i heard vader say the line "it's too late for me, son" to luke's pleading, it changed everything for me. the amount of grief held in those words, the pain that you could feel. in that moment, vader changed from a monster of nightmare into something so tragic. it was amazing. it was heartbreaking. it was beautiful.

and i think that was the moment i think i truly fell in love with star wars. and it was because of you.

(and that's not even to mention some of the other incredible lines that made vader such an incredible character!! i think of how young you made him sound in revenge of the sith - that "where is padme?" fucking haunts me. and yes there are so many classic and amazing vader "NOOOs", but the one that really gets me is the one when he decides to save luke, to find the light again, to choose his destiny. the way you portrayed that conflict and resolve with a simple two-letter word? amazing.)

anyways, just....thank you. thank you for your gift, for your talent, for your legacy. you will, quite literally, never be forgotten.

may the force be with you, james earl jones. always.

#this news broke my heart a little today not gonna lie #he was 93 and lived a hell of a life so it wasnt a complete surprise...but still #thank you james earl jones. may the force be with you.#darth vader #james earl jones #star wars #i think im gonna go watch empire strikes back and return of the jedi now #and cry probably #em speaks #mine

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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jet

🎉 thank u guys so much for 1k followers 🎉 i don’t know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and can’t thank you enough for all the love n support. here’s some smutty joel to celebrate 🤩 this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts ✨

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies

word count: 6.9k

main masterlist

Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you don’t bother asking him to see it much. You’ve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you don’t run into any trouble, that is.

It’s been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.

You’re a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesn’t give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horse’s hooves on broken asphalt, Joel’s horse in time at your heels.

You’d untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but you’d wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.

Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass you’d pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but you’d petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.

He’d jerked his head in a nod and muttered, “Good job,” before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one – who you’d named Jet.

Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.

“Infected?” you asked.

He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.

You knew that meant that yeah, there’d been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It can’t have been longer than a week.

Joel’s silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there weren’t just adults in the house, either.

You’d glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horse’s ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joel’s knuckles.

Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time you’d been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.

That was two weeks ago. Joel hasn’t talked about it, and you’re not interested in bringing it back up. Y’all got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.

Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. It’s still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know he’ll be scouting for places to camp out soon.

You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jet’s rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.

It’s peaceful. Not much is, these days.

It’s quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like you’re on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.

You’re humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. He’d bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goes…

“Not much out here, is there?”

His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isn’t much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.

You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.

“Hm?” he asks when you still don’t reply.

“Not a lot,” you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.

Finding the horses isn’t the only thing that’d happened two weeks ago.

Joel hadn’t wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadn’t wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. You’d protested, heart set on a night’s sleep in an actual bed, but he hadn’t budged.

And you knew not to push him.

The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.

He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected – or worse – were waiting to surprise y’all, and then sat down next to you.

Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.

“You can lie down, too, y’know.”

He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.

“Joel.”

You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone you’ve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced he’d only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.

He remained upright. “Just want to keep watch for a while.”

Joel’s like this when you’re on the road. He’s cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.

You’d sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.

“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him.

“You need sleep,” he replied flatly.

You shrugged. “So do you.”

“What good is both of us tired?”

You sighed again and shook your head. You weren’t gonna argue with him.

Good thing he didn’t feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.

You’d scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that you’re sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.

It’d tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You don’t know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.

Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that you’re tired, ‘cause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.

“Keep ridin’ for another hour,” he mumbles. “’m sure we’ll find somewhere soon. Looks like we’re still a little way out of St. Louis.”

You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Tired,” you whisper.

“Only a little while longer.” He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesn’t fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. Feels…normal.

Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and you’re alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other for…more than just survival.

You can’t remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, who’d grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.

You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.

He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you weren’t used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joel’s was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.

Joel didn’t believe in anything or anyone, either. That’s what kept you coming back.

He’d just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. He’d ask if you’d eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.

Most nights he’d fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joel’s soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.

You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when he’d be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that he’d forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.

He wouldn’t care to ask, and you wouldn’t offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where it’d happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.

And afterwards, he’d let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.

Didn’t mean he answered all of them. Didn’t even mean he answered much. Some, he’d give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.

He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way he’d lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way he’d mumble in his sleep.

You never talked to him about the incoherent words he’d breathe – but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.

When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.

You do that already, you told him.

‘s different outside. You don’t understand.

It can’t be any worse than in here.

You’d taken a step forward, and he’d flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.

You’d wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you might’ve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.

Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joel’s fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.

His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, you’d said, just didn’t get that reference.

He’d shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.

Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.

You’re both good at getting each other…there.

Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. It’s in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know you’re in.

It’s a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.

It’s worked a few times, when Joel’s suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.

Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. You’ve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.

“That’s gotta be teemin’ with them,” you say, looking over to study his expression.

“Hm,” Joel agrees, and glances to the right.

“What you thinkin’? Sun’s getting lower.”

He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. “Know somewhere nearby.”

He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. You’d kinda hoped that he’d offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.

That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joel’s using what’s left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jet’s reins and line her up with his own horse.

“I thought you said an hour,” you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.

“Changed my mind,” he replies. “Almost there.”

Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position you’ve been sat in for hours now. It’s not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.

Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.

“Easy,” he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.

He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.

“Stay here,” he tells you, and you don’t have the energy to argue back.

He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horse’s muzzle, gently petting. Joel’s gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.

He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.

“What will we do with Jet ‘n…?”

“Huh?” he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.

“What’s your horse called?”

“She ain’t got a name.”

You tsk. “Bad owner.”

“We ain’t their owners.”

“Mine’s is Jet. Pick a name.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know he’s gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. “We’ll tie ‘em up out here.”

“What if something happens to them?”

“Well,” he says, leading them toward the shelter, “if somethin’ happens to them, it only means it’s about thirty seconds away from happenin’ to us.”

He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.

You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaper’s peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.

It’s as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.

Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. You’re already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.

He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.

“’s cozy,” you offer, and he nods.

“Better ‘n risking that hospital.”

The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ain’t the most comfortable, but then it’s not meant to be, is it? It’s only meant to be safe, which Joel’s made sure of.

He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.

“Y’okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.

“Just had to find somewhere better.”

“Better?” You smile. “Have you seen the world, Miller?”

He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.

“Had to find somewhere better,” he mutters, “so I could fuck you in peace.”

Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. There’s something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.

You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.

His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.

“That what you want?” he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words – they claw at your throat as they go.

“Uhuh,” you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesn’t allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like you’re a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.

“Needy girl,” Joel whispers. “Two weeks too long for you?”

“Mhm.”

You’re not tired anymore. You’re fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joel’s hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.

You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, hand tensing around your core.

Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.

Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.

“Want you to…want you…”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.

His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joel’s pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.

“Want you to f– fuck, Joel – fuck me.” Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once they’re tossed to the floor, he bats you away.

He’s shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.

Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. It’s what you know now. It’s basic fucking instinct at this point.

His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.

“Baby,” he coos, “this all for me?”

You nod a little too eagerly, not that you’re present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.

Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.

Joel’s free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.

“Hm?” he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.

“’s my only shirt. Don’t…”

He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldn’t.

He blinks. Decision made.

“Give you one of mine,” he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and it’s another scrap lost to the motel room floor.

And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. He’s still in his dusty flannel. There’s sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.

You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.

“No, pretty girl,” Joel coos, “gonna take my time with ya.”

You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.

He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what he’s doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.

Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.

“Since you don’t wanna listen.”

The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.

Staring up at the gray ceiling, you’re left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.

Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you can’t hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. He’s leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fucking…playing with you. Like you’re some fancy gadget. Like you’re brand new to him.

“So,” he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, “fuckin’,” lines them up at your entrance, “pretty – for me.”

He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. You’re panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.

His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.

“Patience, darlin’. Don’t want it to be over ‘fore it’s even started.”

Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. It’s all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when you’re wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.

You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. You’re chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joel’s hand fucking in and out, in and out. You’re coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.

“Feel good?” he asks, almost with a laugh. There’s a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you can’t find the energy to open your eyes.

You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.

You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good you’re being, how pretty you look, how hard he’s gonna…

It’s like he changes his mind in an instant.

Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you can’t reach.

Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.

His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. He’s not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.

You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.

You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.

“Joel…” you whisper, but he’s not listening.

Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.

“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath, and then…

It’s been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. He’s bigger, thicker than anyone you’ve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.

He’s cocky like that. Too careful when you’re on the road, and too careless when you’re between the sheets. Not that you’re fuckin’ complaining.

Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joel’s all you can feel.

Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. You’re stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.

“Good girl,” he’s panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.

He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know, I know. I got you. I’ll get you there again, baby.”

You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.

Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.

Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.

This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But that’s all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.

Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but don’t let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while you’re buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. Whisper…anything you like. Anything you wouldn’t say when the sun’s up.

This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joel’s looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.

And maybe that’s the point.

He’s proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.

And you’re proving that you’ll do it. You’ll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.

He’s proving that he’ll take care of you, and you’re proving that you’ll let him.

Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. It’s starting to hurt, if you’re honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.

Probably, possibly. Definitely.

Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.

When your hands slip free, Joel’s clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.

“Baby…” he whispers.

“’s okay,” you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. “I’m okay. Liked it.”

Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.

“Close, baby,” his voice vibrates against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whine, chest pushing against his. “Fuck. Right there. Fuck.”

Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. You’re right there. Joel – he’s right there.

It’s new, it’s intimate. It’s almost…sweet.

“Gonna cum with me?” he asks, sincerely. He’s not trying to coax it out of you. He’s checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.

You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.

With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking – hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.

The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.

“Darlin’…” he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. He’s starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.

“’m there too,” you reply, gasping for breath.

“Let me – feel you,” he says, “pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe it’s him wanting you to cum first, before he will.

Or maybe it’s pretty girl, that finally sends you over.

You look so good to him. You’re being so good for him. ‘n he can’t help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.

Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that you’d be surprised if you don’t have company in five minutes.

Joel’s at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.

Your orgasm’s still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. You’re holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know he’s listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.

He’s still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that for…well, you’ve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.

You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.

Your legs intertwine with his. There’s cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.

Before you know it, you’re sleeping.

Dawn breaks early. Too early. You’re still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat – slow, calm. The drapes – not that there’s much left of them – are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up.

The rough sheets sting against your wrists – red marks scoring them where Joel’s belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.

It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.

You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.

His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know he’s stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.

You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ain’t nothing to say – nothing that wasn’t said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. It’s like fire on ice.

He’s first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jet’s back and pull yourself up.

Joel’s t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you don’t let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once you’re sat on the horse.

His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.

“Ghost,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Huh?” You click to Jet to follow.

“Horse’s name. Ghost.”

“How come?” you ask when you’re side by side with him.

He shrugs, upper lip turning. “When it’s dark, you can’t hardly see her. She’s like a ghost.”

Joel’s hand surfs gently across Ghost’s mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horses’ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.

“Alright,” you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.

And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.

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taglist: @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

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hyperlexichypatia · 11 months ago

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This post reminded me of it, but my partner has observed that in contemporary gender discourse, maleness is so linked to adulthood and femaleness is so linked to childhood, that there are no "boys" or "women," only "men" and "girls."

This isn't exactly new -- for as long as patriarchy has existed, women have been infantilized, and "adult woman" has been treated as something of an oxymoron. Hegemonic beauty standards for women emphasize youthfulness, if not actual neoteny, and older women are considered "too old" to be attractive without ever quite being old enough to make their own decisions. There may be cultural allowances for the occasional older "wise woman," but a "wise woman" is always dangerously close to being a madwoman, or a witch. No matter how wise a woman is, she is never quite a rational agent. As Hanna K put it, "as a woman you're always either too young or too old for things, because the perfect age is when you're a man."

But the framing of underage boys as "men" has shifted, depending on popular conceptualizations of childhood and gender roles. Sometimes children of any gender are essentially feminized and grouped with women (the entire framing of "women and children" as a category). In the U.S. in the 21st century, the rise of men's rights and aggressively sexist ideology has correlated with an increased emphasis on little boys as "men" -- thus slogans like "Teach your son to be a man before his teacher teaches him to be a woman."

Of course, thanks to ageism and patriarchy (which literally means, not "rule by men," but "rule by fathers"), boys don't get any of the social benefits of being considered "men." They don't get to vote, make their own medical decisions, or have any of their own adult rights. They might have a little more childhood freedom than girls, if they're presumed to be sturdier and less vulnerable to "predators," but, for the most part, being considered "men" as young boys doesn't really get boys any more access to adult rights. What it does get them is aggressively gender-policed, often with violence. A little boy being "a man" means that he's not allowed to wear colors, have feelings, or experience the developmental stages of childhood.

This shifts in young adulthood, as boys forced into the role of "manhood" become actual men. As I've written about, I believe the trend of considering young adults "children" is harmful to everyone, but primarily to young women, young queer and trans people, and young disabled people. Abled, cisgender, heterosexual young men are rarely denied the rights and autonomy of adulthood due to "brain maturity."

What's particularly interesting is that, because transphobes misgender trans people as their birth-assigned genders, they constantly frame trans girls as "men" and trans men as "girls." A 10 year old trans girl on her elementary school soccer team is a "MAN using MAN STRENGTH on helpless GIRLS," while a 40 year old trans man is a "Poor confused little girl." Anyone assigned male at birth is born a scary, intimidating adult, while anyone female assigned at birth never becomes old enough to make xyr own decisions.

Feminist responses have also really fluctuated. Occasionally, feminists have played into the idea of little boys as "men," especially in trans-exclusionary rhetoric, or in one notorious case where members of a women's separatist compound were warned about "a man" who turned out to be a 6-month-old infant. There's periodic discourse around "Empowering our girls" or "Raising our boys with gentle masculinity," but for the most part, my problem with mainstream feminist rhetoric in general is that it tends to frame children solely as a labor imposed on women by men, not as subjects (and specifically, as an oppressed class) at all.

Second-wave feminists pushed back hard on calling adult women "girls" -- but they didn't necessarily view "women" as capable of autonomous decision-making, either. Adult women were women, but they might still need to be protected from their own false consciousness. As laws in the U.S., around medical privacy and autonomy, like HIPAA, started more firmly linking the concepts of autonomy with legal adulthood, and fixing the age of majority at 18, third-wave feminists embraced referring to women as "girls." Sometimes this was in an intentionally empowering way ("girl power," "girl boss"), which also served to shield women (mostly white, mostly bourgeois/wealthy) from criticism of their participation in racism and capitalism. But it also served to reinforce the narrative of women as "girls" needing to be protected from "men" (and their own choices).

I'm still hoping for a feminist politic that is pro-child, pro-youth, pro-disability, pro-autonomy, pro-equality, that rejects the infantilization of women, the adultification of boys, the objectification of children, the misgendering of trans people, and the imposition of gender roles.

#youth rights #ageism #feminism #sexism #intersectionality #capitalism #body autonomy #bodily autonomy

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nanaminokanojo · 9 months ago

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BAD NEWS | CHAPTER INDEX/PROLOGUE (Part 1-64)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t be more dead wrong, and maybe there isn’t really anything holding you back from acting on it now that you’re all grown up…except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think. MAYBE you’ll be the exception...maybe not.

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts; just skip them. you’re not missing much | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon (consent >>>), etc. | again, god-awful pet names i’d cringe at if a 3d person says it | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

AKI’S NOTES: I would like to express my sincerest thanks to everyone who loved and supported “Thawing Ice Queen” as well as those who participated in the poll on which smau I’m going to write next. So, this is what won in said poll, and I hope it gets as much as love as TIQ if not more. Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, and I actively respond to comments as well as Asks. Also, if you’re interested, I will include you in the tag list. Just message me through whatever avenue you’re most comfortable with. Happy reading!

ADDITIONAL NOTES: i will be using pics and other media which would fit situations and make the smau-ness of this piece a little more realistic and entertaining when i believe it’s appropriate/fitting to the plot (as i've done with TIQ). having said that, with regard to inclusivity, i just want to put it out there that they will not necessarily be aimed as the exact descriptions to fit a supposedly generic reader nor will they be representative of a specific race or color (even if you’re/the reader is gojo’s sister here). it’s all for the simple fact of media availability, for funsies and the fact that i don’t exclusively write in consideration of those aspects when using reader-insert characters unless i specify it. thank you for understanding.

MASTERLIST

CHAPTERS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45

46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60

61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | CHAPTER INDEX II

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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bunnysbrainrot · 1 year ago

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But I’m Better

Kintober prompt: Toys

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Content: explicit sexual scenes, praise kink, guided masturbation, dom/sub (kinda) dynamic, size kink (kinda sorta). No outbreak AU, age gap (Joel is around his mid-40’s, reader is early/mid-20’s).

Summary: When something breaks, you always know who to call. Your dresser is broken, and you’re left hopeless. But what happens when Joel finds something peculiar in your drawer?

A/N: Y’all. I am so pissed right now because i wrote so much on my drive home, and it deleted because of a bad connection. i can’t recall everything i wrote, so i did the best with what i could remember. i hope it’s up to your liking!

“Shit,” you grumble as you stare blankly at the clothes strewn across the floor. The knob of your dresser drawer sat stupidly in your hand, the mangled wood and metal mocking you. It looked completely ruined.

You thought about messaging your dad about the repairs, but chose against it. He was never exactly notorious for making these things simple - it would be a question of ‘So how did this happen?’ or ‘How did you manage to break it?’, and it really wasn’t worth the effort for you.

The knob sat in your hand, the screw that held it in the drawer was bent to the side, and incredibly dull. No surprise there, you thought.

To be fair, it was an old ass dresser, given to you by your grandmother when you were younger. It was weird to think that you’d had this dresser for over twelve years.

You bent over the pile of clothes and hoisted the hefty drawer in line with the empty space, grunting in frustration as you tried to shimmy it in. It was settled haphazardly and tilted backwards. Completely screwed up. You took your phone from your pocket and snapped a photo of your mangled dresser, sending it to Joel.

Dresser finally gave out, I guess. Knob fell clean off when I tried to open it

Almost immediately, Joel haha reacted to the image and began to type. He was unlike any other man you’d talked to before. Joel was timely and consistent, and he was always reliable. Even if he didn’t have the time to help, he would instruct you on how to solve an issue, but typically he helped you in person.

As much as you tried to deny it, your feeling for Joel had warped over the past few years. It began as a silly childhood crush - those early days where you and your friends joked about what older men were sexiest. Your friends had given you teasing looks when you mentioned Joel, and even more shocking was how long you’d liked him. It was a simple, harmless, childhood crush.

Until it wasn’t.

You were freshly eighteen and readying yourself for college when the realization hit you. After all those years having crushes on older guys, it would be considered okay. Weird and taboo, sure, but still allowed now that you were legally an adult.

Joel had come to your graduation dinner at the end of senior year. You remembered that night in vivid detail. More particularly, Joel’s presence set your skin ablaze with a new type of anxiety. At long last, you could freely crush on Joel, except that there was now a chance he could like you, too.

That night he’d passed you a small velvet box, tied neatly with gold ribbon. You opened the box to reveal a gold, oval-shaped locket with a simple clasp. Inscribed on the face of the locket were whorled spirals, breaking off as flowers scattered over the gilded surface. Gazing up at Joel, you couldn’t contain your joy as you gave him a quick hug. He briefly wrapped an arm around you, holding you close by the small of your back.

He broke away, smiling proudly at you below him.

“You did a great job, baby girl. You keep that up in college, and you’ll get by just fine.”

You were thankful dessert had arrived in time for you to turn your attention away, hiding your rouged cheeks. Joel probably didn’t remember that night, but you remembered every little thing.

—

You’d done your four years of college and after the endless nights with little to no sleep and hard work, you were finally graduated, and taking a gap year before considering anything further. You worked hard, and didn’t want to burn yourself out with more school immediately.

But now you were back home, and your sights were set on something else. It was a golden opportunity to spend time with Joel - time that you’d lost by being away for so long. Holiday visits and summer break was hardly generous enough to give you any alone time with Joel. You left for college as a timid girl, developed yourself as a whole, and came back a woman. A woman who knew herself and her wants.

And you wanted him, ached for him in a way you could neither define nor justify. He was almost twice your age, a wholly developed man with his own complex past and unsteady dating life.

Mr. Miller.

He had lived in the next neighborhood over for as long as you could remember. He and your dad met about ten years back at a ‘work thing’, as they described it.

Joel was kind and endlessly generous when it came to helping others. He was the first call when something broke, and the best person to have over when times were tough, despite his sometimes-rugged personality.

You’d gotten back in town over a week ago, and since then you’d seen Joel a few times, mostly to ‘inspect’ the furniture in your room - if anything had worn down over time and needed to be replaced, the whole nine. The both of you knew it was some bullshit excuse to see him at work, with those corded muscles flexing under his tanned skin, sending shivers down your spine.

That day, the two of you had enough bravery in you to flirt. It started out lightly, you gave more emphasis on Mr. Miller, until Joel requested you call him by his first name.

“Makin’ me feel like an old man, darlin’,” he teased. You remember how he sounded saying it, with a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

Before he’d left he’d held you by the waist, staring a little too closely at your face, watching your eyes grow wide when he leaned toward you. He fixed your hair with a gentle hand, said your name, and trailed off, his eyes never leaving your lips.

He refused to kiss you that time. Though the time after that you’d decided to break the boundary, drinking him in like someone dying of thirst. You memorized his scent, the softness of his skin and rough, eager hands across your chest, between your thighs, your throat. You both had been greedy that night. It was a high that coursed through your senses. You needed him, more than you led on.

I’ll get my toolbox, looks like it could be some old hardware. Be over in 10.

You picked up around your room in the meantime, your heart fluttering in your ribcage with each passing second. The room had become stiflingly hot. Suffocating.

A knock at your bedroom door startled you out of your anxious stupor. You reached for the door and now faced a smug Joel Miller in the doorway.

“I could’ve met you at the front door, you know,” you chastised him playfully. Joel shifted his weight of his feet, pulling something from his pocket.

“Helps that I have a house key. Means I can help you even faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned on your heels without a word, striding toward your broken dresser. Joel followed casually, craning his head to look around your room, at the decorations that covered the walls and ceiling. This was no longer the bedroom of a the kid he’d met all those years ago. No, you were fully your own woman now.

“Yup, the screw’s shot to shit,” he muttered, holding out the drawer’s knob to you. “See the end of it? Shouldn’t be that dull - gotta have it replaced every now and then.”

“Do you have the right screw for it?”

He nodded, popping open his toolbox and assessing the different screws in each compartment. His hands flexed with each movement, the veins branching across them shifted with every twitch and roll of his thick fingers. Your legs clenched while the most intrusive thoughts filled your head. Specifically those hands, and what you could imagine them doing to you.

Procuring the right screw, Joel handed it to you. You looked at him in innocent confusion.

God, those eyes. If he had the chance, Joel would look into them all day, to let himself get swallowed whole by their beauty. And when you looked at him all pretty like that, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him, it drove him wild. You knew exactly what you were doing when you’d flirt with Joel, but couldn’t gauge his reciprocation, or if he was even okay with the weird ‘relationship’ you had.

It had been confusing for long enough. Someone needed to make a move, and Joel wasn’t sure if you had it in you to do it. Neither were you.

“I wanna see you try it for yourself,” he explained.

“If it’s so easy, why can’t you do it?” you quipped with a smile, but still taking the knob in your hands. Joel gave no reply and waited patiently for you to back down and do it yourself.

It was far easier than you thought. You handed it back to Joel with a proud smile. His eyes thoughtfully scanned your face before finding home in your eyes.

“Smart girl. I knew you could do it.”

Heat rushed across your cheeks like a harsh sunburn, completely taken over by the brightness in his honeyed tone and brown eyes. Joel laughed at your reaction before he worked on the drawer knob, fiddling it into place. His hands rummaged through your drawer as he worked, and paid no mind to the clothes, though you just realized. This was your underwear drawer - full of lacy underwear, bras of all varieties, and one final item you prayed you hid well enough.

Joel’s hands pushed through your panties as you held your breath. After the drawer had fallen out you’d lazily threwn everything back in the drawer and paid no mind to its organization. Since it wasn’t on the bed or the floor, by accident, you were certain that Joel would cross paths with a toy of yours.

He struck something solid amidst the clothes. The material was solid and heavy, with a bit of give from the silicone. At that moment, he could’ve left it ignored, but there was no fun in that, he thought. Joel gripped the dildo at the base, pulling out of the tangle of clothes and handed it to you, flashing you with a smirk.

“You should find a better place for this,” he drawled. “Never know who could find it.”

You quickly grabbed it from him and scanned your room for another hiding spot, but nothing came to mind. Instead you plopped it back in the drawer, on the opposite side.

“Most people don’t get to go through my underwear, so you can’t give me shit for that,” you grumbled. Joel stood, groaning at the strain on his joints. You giggle at the noise, and gave him your usual teasing, “Old man.”

Ignoring your jab, Joel leaned against the chest of drawers, arms crossed over his chest in a stare down.

His voice was dark. It had become devious, knowing, and more stern than you’d imagined.

“You use it on yourself?”

You choked on your spit harshly, not expecting his question to be so direct. Joel placed a wide hand between your shoulder blades and gave you a pat, coaxing you back to normal.

“Joel,” you pant, catching your breath, “you can’t just- just ask me that.”

“And you wouldn’t be curious if the roles were reversed, I’m sure,” he said coolly.

The redness had returned to your cheeks while you debated on your answer, but your hesitation told Joel everything he needed to know. In the smallest way, you’d let it slip that you imagine him in your free time, not that it wasn’t the same case for him. If anything, it’d been worse. Every text you’d sent him set him ablaze; at night he thought about you in detail and palmed himself through his pants, or pumped his cock in a fervent hand as he thought of you, squeezing himself inside your tight pussy. Countless nights he’d stained himself with his own seed, wishing it was inside of you instead, where it belongs. That toy should be him, it always should’ve been.

“Do you?”

You huffed and turned away from him, striding toward the bed to adjust your pillows - any sort of casual distraction from the question.

“Why do you want to know?” you countered.

Joel’s hands brushed against your hips from behind, his feather-soft fingertips brushing across the skin above your jeans. You drew in a breath as Joel whispered next to your ear.

“Because I’m a selfish old bastard, and I’m wondering what it looks like.”

“What what looks like?” you ask softly. You knew precisely what he meant but you wanted to hear something from him anyway.

He burrowed his head at the crook of your neck, gently kissing your skin up to the soft spot below your ear. His breath flew over your skin hot and heavy, sending a new wave of heat to your core.

“I want to see your face when you’re all filled up. I gotta see what your little pussy looks like when it’s all stretched out.”

You pushed your hips back flush with his to find a growing bulge trapped in his jeans. Joel rolled his hips into your ass, groaning at the constraint of the rough denim.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He mumbled against your neck, “What is it baby girl?”

Shoving your ass against his crotch, you whined, “I need you. Please… need you so badly.”

His hum rumbled against your skin, sending goosebumps rolling across your arms. A hand wound up to your hair and tugged a good handful back toward him. You gazed up at him with those beautiful glossed over eyes he dreamed about. He pictured this look on your face for a few years now, and he finally had the joy of seeing it, of causing it himself.

“Not givin’ it to you yet, baby,” he tugged once more on your hair when you whined in protest, “Gonna try something different first.”

In one movement you were facing him, finding two dark eyes staring you down, pupils both blown in lust. Joel gripped the back of your head carefully now, cradling you like something precious, something coveted. This was exactly how he saw you. You were someone to protect and take care of, and now it’s shifted to something far more intimate. Joel vowed to himself that he would make you feel every ounce of pleasure you’d been missing out on. All those nights where his hand replaced your pussy built up a frustration only you could truly fix.

Joel crashed his mouth to yours, as he’d done twice before this, and the kiss sent the same heat through your body. You clenched your thighs in a pitiful attempt to gain pressure against your swollen clit, nestled sweetly between your soft folds, soaking your underwear with your slick.

He pressed you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. The kiss was no short of pure ecstasy. The way his stubble scratched against your cheeks, the way his breathing grew heavy when you bit at his lower lip, the way his tongue edged into your mouth to explore every inch.

You gasped when Joel pulled away, watching him step to your dresser and draw out the dildo you’d hidden back inside. He turned to you with the toy in hand, wobbling slightly in his grip.

“‘S a pretty big one, sweetheart, you actually use all of it?” his voice was far too casual for a man holding your dildo.

You offer him half a nod, “Kind of. I’ve been trying to get… all the way in.” Joel assessed your words before he joined you on the bed, holding the toy against your stomach, at the base of your pelvis. He let out a low whistle when he saw where the toy’s length ended at your tummy, past your bellybutton.

“All of that inside you… felt pretty daring getting one so big, huh?”

That wasn’t the case and it was the most embarrassing part. The truth is, you chose the size based on your image of Joel. You didn’t even know how endowed he was, but you let your fantasy of him take over. That, and the time your hand brushed against his erection during your last kiss.

“I wanted to see if it would feel like you,” you admitted.

Joel’s eyes crinkled with his laugh, “Darlin’, a toy don’t compare to the real thing. Not really.”

You jabbed his arm at his teasing, “Listen, I’m doing the best with what I got, okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the best you could get, now is it?” he purred, pushing forward to plant a kiss on your neck. You shook your head, knowing he was exactly right. The toy would never really feel like the real thing.

You glanced up at him with a nervous expression, furrowing your brows, “What did you want to do?”

Joel looked at you coolly and leaned back onto his elbows. He eyed you, then the toy in his hand, then back to you.

“You gonna make it fit - take it all the way - and I’m gonna help.”

Crimson shaded your cheeks at the thought, staring nervously at the toy. Surely you were wet enough to take it, but the action of pushing further, to get it in completely, had been a challenge. In hopes to boost your bravery, you hunched over him, kissing him harshly as your hands flew to your pants. You fumbled with the waistband and slid them off of you, until you were stark naked, laid and bare before Mr. Miller.

He simply drank you in as you sat nervously in the lamplight. Joel eyed you darkly, his eyes raking from your quivering thighs, your slightly hidden sex - masked by your censoring hands, to your perk nipples atop each soft breast, and to your face, eyes half-lidded in pleasure adjoined with your soft panting.

“Jesus.”

You ducked your head sheepishly, shaking slightly to decline the compliment. Joel looked you over fondly as his hand found your cheek, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. You glanced down at him, still giving you that goofy smirk and a excited glint in his eye.

Joel kept eye contact as his hand traveled down your body - through the valley between your breasts, down your tummy, to just above your slit, daringly close to dipping between your wet folds. You pushed yourself into your knees and knelt at his side, your aching cunt exposed to him in the dimly lit room.

He trailed his hand up each thigh, halting just before he reached your pussy. Each touch was carefully light in a way that made your whole body shudder against him. A single finger slithered up your thigh once again, finally finding its way through your slit, nestling comfortably against your clit and drawing lazy circles.

You cried out against a hand held at your mouth. Joel’s hand smelled of metal and bourbon, mixed with pine and lemongrass. He smelled smoky and fresh and completely warm against your face. You bestowed your face into his palm as he gained a rhythm on your clit, drawing out the smallest cries against his skin.

“Nice and wet for me already, darlin’, that’s good… that’s such a good girl. Drippin’ and ready.”

Another dumb nod has him chuckling while his finger skirted lightly across your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until your stomach grew tighter.

“Gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me already?” His comment draws another moan from you, falling like a melody past your bitten lips, a chorus straight from heaven, just for Joel.

“It’s okay, baby doll, go ‘head. Cum for daddy,” he said sweetly, the Southern drawl thick through his words.

You unravel around him, jolting your hips as your orgasm takes over your senses. A soft cry sounds through your gritted teeth; you gently grind your hips onto the pad of his finger to ride through the shockwaves. Joel leans up to kiss your shoulder, his lips warm and supple.

“Just as beautiful as I imagined,” whispered Joel. His tongue skirts along your skin to your neck, fully sitting beside you to bore his eyes into yours.

You glanced back at him with lust-blow pupils, steadying your breath as his hand slowed its tempo. Joel gave you a lazy smile, the lamplight catching the salt-and-pepper hairs of his scruff in a soft display of his rugged features.

“Can,” you started, “you be… inside me?”

Joel’s hands found your hips and gripped snugly. The look in his eyes was nothing short of affectionate. Even still, he shook his head.

“Not tonight darlin’,” he replies, “I want you to show me how you look using this-“ he points to the dildo on his opposite side, waiting. “Since you think a toy could be so much better than me-“

“That’s not it at all,” you protest, “I needed something, Joel.”

He holds up a hand to stop you mid-sentence, “You could’ve asked me, but ya didn’t, did ya?”

You gave him a scowl, “I didn’t think this would happen, Joel.”

Ever since you hit eighteen, he wanted you to practice calling him by his first name purely out of comfortability, and since you’d grown up, it seemed more fitting.

He doesn’t reply, but his smirk grows when he brings the dildo over to you, sitting between your thighs. It was embarrassing enough with how little of the toy you could handle this far, and to do it in front of Joel seemed doubly humiliating.

Joel gives your ass a small smack to lift you up. You rise, letting him set the toy between your thighs and beneath your throbbing entrance. He cleared his throat, daring your attention back to him.

“Go at your own pace, but get it all in, sweet girl.”

All thought had left you - your only reply being in an eager nod. You started off slowly, notching the toy in at your tight hole, and slowly bounced yourself along its length. Your legs shook with each movement as you filled yourself more and more, every gyration sent shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of your being.

It took a few moments to ease yourself fully, now bouncing on the dildo’s length until it became glossy with your slick. Joel eyed you affectionately. Your face twisted in ways he couldn’t imagine, and your cunt wrapped around the toy in ways he could only dream of.

Joel patted your thigh as you bottomed out at the hilt of the toy. He pawed at your hips, kneading at the tender flesh of your ass, and pulled you into a grinding motion, setting the dildo ever deeper into your cunt. It struck a new spot deep inside of you, pushing against your cervix. A low moan fell from you as you moved your hips absentmindedly, solely following Joel’s command.

The tightness in your stomach only grew as his praises flowed through your head.

“Such an obedient lil’ thing.”

“That’s a dirty girl, gettin’ all needy like that. Wishin’ it was me in your sweet pussy, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to fill you right now, baby doll.”

You mewled softly as another orgasm crashed through you, your hips sputtering as you ground onto the toy. Joel’s hands caressed you through your high, though he didn’t stop tugging your hips. He beamed lazily when you cried his name once again, shuddering around the toy nestled inside of you.

“Attagirl,” whispered Joel, “so fuckin’ beautiful..”

You shook your head at him like before, but he showed no signs of backing down from his stance. Joel peppered your thighs with kisses and he lifted you off the toy, listening to your whines as you were left feeling empty. His cock twitched in his jeans, eager to play.

But not yet. He needed to see this first.

“How was that, sweet girl?”

A beat of silence said every unspoken thing you’d come up with. It was good, but not mind-boggling. Not the ‘fucked til you’re dumb’ pleasure you’d expected from tonight.

Joel patted your ass, “That’s the thing. Toys… they feel nice. But-“ He plants a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, grazing over the swollen skin.

“I’m better.”

The next few minutes consisted of cleaning after yourself and settling back into your clothes. Joel fixed your hair neatly before looking you over.

“Cant stay long tonight, darlin’, gotta get back home.”

You sighed dramatically at him, to which he scoffed away the gesture. On his way out, he gave you a far more longing look - a loving, thoughtful gaze that told you one thing.

You were his. Completely and wholly. It was clear he saw you differently now, as you did him.

Joel fucking Miller.

MDNI spacer is by cafekitsune!

hi everyone! thank you for so much incredible support on this fic!

Just FYI: Blood Flow, and Daddy’s Girl are now up as parts 2 and 3! have fun, lovelies

#fanfiction #fic writing #smut #smut writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #bunny writes #kinktober

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