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mead-iocre · 11 days ago

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Trick or Treat | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: you and your son go trick or treating and meet your neighbour

warnings: none

wc: 4.1k words

You arch, massaging away the kinks around your lower back with your fingers. At your age, you should not be getting back pain this often, but the reality is that having a good, flexible back is a privilege afforded to women who did not get pregnant at 19 years old, and are now a single mom to a very active 3 year old boy.

You glance at the pile of boxes still stacked up against the wall and groan. The fun part of moving to a new place was knowing this was a new chapter in your life. There were new places to explore, and new people that could walk into your life to replace the ones you left behind. You forgot that having to unpack all your stuff was an essential hurdle you needed to get through first before you can even get to the fun part.

At first, you were nervous about moving so far away, packing up your life to go to an entire continent away from home. Mom tried to talk you out of it, but you knew you needed a fresh start. And the further away the better.

You are knocked out of your thoughts by a soft thud coming from your son’s room. Since there was no crying that followed, you don’t rush out of the room but you quicken your pace regardless. You would’ve count on your rowdy child to injure himself somehow if left alone for too long.

You poke your head into the room. “Hey, bubba”

A head of brown curls pop up from the other side of the bed. “Mama!”

The love of your life, and a tornado in the form of a little human, comes barreling over to you, struggling slightly with his little legs. It’s as if his mind is telling him to go fast, but his legs can’t catch up just yet. You crouch down to catch him before he knocks you down like a bowling pin.

“What’cha doing?” You look around the room and sure enough there are crayons, farm animal figurines, and plastic toy tractors scattered everywhere. It was a mess, and it was only 11 am the morning.

His room is still pretty bare aside from a small, low bed with little astronauts on his sheets, the blankets rumpled to the side from his nap earlier.

A simple dresser stands across the room, a few drawers pulled open and hurriedly filled with folded toddler clothes. Nearby, a lamp casts the only real light in the room. There's a small red spaceship-shaped rug near the bed, for little feet. In one corner, a couple of cardboard boxes that were stacked a while ago, containing toys and books, has now been tipped over.

Turning your attention to the boy in your arms, you are reminded exactly why you learned not to mind the mess. His brown eyes, with specks of green, round and framed by long dark lashes have you wrapped around his pudgy finger. He snuggles into the crook of your neck and you feel your heart melt all over again.

“Playing dinos”

You feel something pointy digging into your stomach, and when you feel around for the culprit, you find a plastic little t-rex in the pocket of his shorts. Obviously.

You wave the plastic mammal at him, lightly poking one rosy cheeky with the head. “Bet you’re having fun, huh?”

Giggles ring out, and all you want to do is bottle up that sound forever. You heave him higher up your hip and use your mom privilege to rain as many kisses all over his face.

The doorbell ringing catches your attention. You walk out of Reid's room and into the living room; allowing your wriggly son to slide off of you, to which he then promptly runs towards his basket of toys by corner of the sofa. You haven’t even opened the door yet before the unmistakable sound of wooden toy cars and blocks being dumped onto the floor can be heard. Lovely.

You open the door and your find one of your neighbours, Liz standing on the other side. You haven’t met all your neighbours, and you probably won’t ever get the chance to considering the building has multiple floors, with multiple units on each floor, but you tried to take the time to introduce yourself to your neighbours when you see them. You blame the urge on the American in you. Making an effort to know your neighbours has always been the way you were raised.

“Hello, Liz” You greet her. She is always so impeccably dressed and today she was sporting the comfiest looking green sweater you have ever seen.

“Hi, dear. Just wanted to check on ya” You and Reid got the warmest welcome from her and her husband, Ben. Most of the people who live in the apartment were single professionals, or couples without kids. You could probably count with one hand the amount of families with kids that lived in the building.

You open the door wider, inviting her into your home. She strolls in, leaving the scent of fresh lilies and ripe pear wafting in the air. “How’s the little man?”

“He’s good. He’s excited to go treat or treating tomorrow” You pull out a chair for her to sit and walk over to start the kettle.

“I bet he is! What’s he going as?”

You grab the tea bags and the spoons from the cupboard. “We’re still deciding, but we’ve narrowed it down to Spiderman or a Dinosaur”

“Brilliant choices. I can’t wait to see him! You will stop by our door right?” They lived a few floors below you.

“Of course! Yours will be our first stop!”

“Make sure you check the leaflet they gave out that tells you all the houses that are handing out candy. Remember, only the houses with pumpkins on their doors will be giving out candy”

You nod, stirring the tea. Liz had warned you about this when you first brought it up days ago. You knew that trick or treating wasn’t a big thing in England, compared to back home but you were glad some houses around the area were planning on handing out candy. A part of you wanted your son to experience Halloween like you did growing up, but life just does not work that way. Maybe one day.

“I know. I think he’s more excited to wear his costume then actually trick or--”

You both turn when the crashing sound of wooden building blocks ring out.

“Uh oh!” a sweet little voice calls out.

You pause for a second. No wailing, no yells for "mama", which is a good sign. It means no broken bones.

"Are you alright, bubba?”

“I’m okay!” You hear back. Then you hear the sound of wooden blocks tumbling again. He's fine.

Liz and you share a laugh before tucking into your mugs of tea.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Did you buy any candy?” Lia asks, picking up her plate and taking it to the sink. The other girls follow suit, cleaning the table free of pumpkin guts, and pumpkin carving supplies. Viv takes the intiative to wipe down the table, while Lotte starts going around with a black rubbish bag.

Leah furrows her eyebrows at the Swiss midfielder, confused. She stood up with her own plate to follow her teammates as they crowd by her kitchen.

The Swiss rolls her eyes at the questioning look from the her English teammate. One eyebrow raised so high it's nearly touching her hairline “For the trick or treaters”

“No?” Was the Arsenal defender's response.

“You won’t be having trick or treaters over?”

“Nah. I might have an early night. Alex is having that party the night after tomorrow…” Alex always throws a halloween party every year, complete with costumes, loud music and lots and lots of drinks. Apparently this year, she rented out an entire club for the night.

Lia dries the plate that she’s been washing and places it on the rack. She turns to the English blonde, a hand on her hip. “Yeah but you know-- just in case. What if kids come knocking?”

The Arsenal defender pauses in the middle of washing her cutlery, and actually cares to think for a second. “Well then I’ll hand them a can of tuna”

Lia gives her an unimpressed look.

Leah just shrugs. Halloween just isn't as celebrated around here. And especially not the whole trick or treating thing. “It’s trick…or treat, Lia. I reckon I should give them kids a trick once in a while”

“The real trick would be that scowl on your face, Leah. No need to bully them with a can of tuna too” Beth pipes up, making a face, imitating her captain.

The girls all laugh but Leah is unfazed. She's used to her "captain face" being the butt of jokes.

Lia was still not ready to let go of the topic of conversation. She presses, “I still think you should run down to the shops and grab a bag at least. Just to be safe”

Leah fights the urge to roll her eyes. Lia was currently drying her hands with a tea towel, and the blonde has no doubt that the Swiss will use it on her if she catches an eye roll. “I’m pretty sure there are only two families with kids in the building. I could just chuck a few bags of crisps and a can of diet coke at them. It’ll be fine.” Surely she had a few packets of crisps lying around in her pantry somewhere.

“Just for that I hope you get a hundred kids knocking on your door tonight.” Lia threatens lightly. Walking over to the coat rack by the door, she picks up her coat, shrugging it on.

Leah stands off to the side as she watches her guests grab their things. “Slim chance of that happening, mate. I’m not leaving a pumpkin out tonight”

“But we carved them for a reason” Beth points at the pumpkins all the girls are carrying in their arms. Being the only American on the team, Emily had somehow roped all the girls into carving pumpkins to celebrate the holiday. They had a fun time, and it granted everyone a chill night before tomorrows party kicks off.

“And I’m not inviting trick or treaters to my door.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The girls pile out of the door, each carrying their own freshly carved pumpkin. The girls say their goodbyes to each other by the door, promising to see each other tomorrow evening for the halloween party. Muted partings are shared by the door, and the smell of fresh pumpkin filling the hallway. Beth clutches Viv’s pumpkin in one hand while the other carries her own-- albeit struggling to keep her balance.

“Beth, can you grab the keys from my pocket? I can’t do it while I’m holding Myle”

The blonde raises an eyebrow, gesturing at her hands that were currently occupied by two festive orange vegetables. “I’m the one holding both of our pumpkins?”

Viv shoots her lover an exasperated look. Leave it to Beth to state the obvious and leave it at that. Sometimes Viv wonders how her girlfriend survived without her for so long “Put one down then, darling”

Beth complies, but not without exaggerating her groans as she bends towards the floor, still mindful of her knee many months later. “Maybe if you didn’t spoil the princess so much,” quick glance at the content spaniel nestled in Viv’s arms.

“Ignore her. Mummy’s grumpy” Viv whispers to the dog.

Beth crotches down to place one of the pumpkins on the door, right by Leah’s door. She reaches over to fish the car keys from Viv’s pocket, steals a kiss from her lover’s lips, and marches towards the elevators. Unbeknownst to her, leaving behind a lone pumpkin by the Arsenal defender's door.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Leah cracks open a can of diet coke. She glances at the time on her phone, the clock reading 8:05 pm. Unsurprisingly, she has not had any knocks on her door. Usually there would be trick or treaters around 6pm, around the time school finishes. In the years that she has been living in this building, most of the kids are done trick or treating by 8pm. Where are the hundreds of trick or treaters you wished would evade my house, Lia?

She settles on the sofa, stretching out her legs and grabbing the remote to turn on the television. When she finally settles on a live tennis match, she grabs a throw blanket and gets comfortable.

Ding! Dong!

When her doorbell goes off, Leah doesn’t think much of it. She slips on her slippers, and drags her feet towards her front door. Pulling it open, at first she sees no one. When she lowers her eyes downwards, she is met with Spiderman. A small Spiderman, with little brown curls sticking out from underneath his face mask. He was holding a small bright orange pumpkin bucket.

Leah is frozen at first. Partly amused by the sight of the mini Spiderman, she was also internally panicking at the fact that she cannot give this child (who looks below the age of 5) a can of diet coke. She mentally tries to remember if she had Fruitshoot or Ribena in the fridge. Of course she doesn't.

Then she hears a woman’s voice whisper from somewhere, “say trick or treat, bubba”

The little boy shuffles on his two feet. A cute little thing. “Oh. Trick or Treat!” He holds up his pumpkin bucket, already filled with mini bars chocolates and a colourful array of sweets. The bucket is practically half his size, and he falters slightly in his step trying to hold it up for so long.

The female voice belonging to the mystery woman finally steps into her view and Leah’s heart stutters.

Wow. She’s beautiful.

Leah didn’t have to think to hard to come to the conclusion that this stunning woman was the little boy’s mother. Her heart drops slightly. Mentally cursing whoever the lucky bastard was that got to see this woman everyday. Obviously a pretty woman like her could not be single.

Meanwhile, you failed to notice the blonde’s blatant gawking. Far too focused on your son, and how he has now stuck his hand in his pumpkin bucket and was fishing out a mini bag of sweets. He hands you the bag of sweets with a charming smile, “Mama, open?”

You mentally patted yourself on the back for having the foresight to decide to do dinner early tonight. It meant that you did not need to worry about Reid’s appetite for the rest of the night so you took the mini bag of candy from him and ripped the bag open.

Leah couldn’t help it, but she watched your hands. She couldn’t help but steal glances at your ring finger in particular, half-expecting to see a gleam of gold or silver that would hint at a commitment or a partner waiting for you at home. Just in case. Just out of curiosity.

But there it was—nothing. Just smooth, bare skin

There was no ring. Your ring finger was untouched, not even a hint of a tan line that some couples might get from wearing their ring for so long.

“There you go, bub” You hand him the opened pack of fruit roll up and he eagerly grabbed for it. It was then you remembered that you were standing in front of someone’s front door. You turn your head to find the owner of the house, a tall, pretty blonde leaning against the side of the door frame. Her hair was tied up in a low ponytail, tendrils of blonde hair frame her face. She was dressed in grey sweatpants, paired with a loose black oversized sweatshirt. You eye the familiar logo on the right side of the shirt– Arsenal. The football club. She must be a fan.

When you tear your eyes away from ogling the woman, she meets your gaze with a gleam in her eyes. As if she knows you were checking her out, and she didn’t shy away from your attention either.

You break the eye contact, picking at your fingers, a nervous habit you never broke out of all these years later. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Leah was rarely nervous in front of new people, but for some reason she was shifting from side to side, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Are you guys new? I mean– I would remembered you–”

She stops herself, clamping her mouth shut. She was seriously about to embarrass herself in front of not just any neighbour– but a pretty neighbour too.

You blink at her, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. You prayed the shitty lighting in the hallway did not make it obvious. Clearing your throat, you give her what you hoped looked like a friendly, neighbourly smile.

“Yeah. Yeah– we moved in a little over a week ago. We live in the floor below you actually”

Leah nods, trying to make sure she was making appropriate eye contact. How many seconds is appropriate eye contact anyway? Has she even blinked yet? She shifted her gaze from your face, to the floor, back to your face, and then to the ceiling. She was totally not nervous, not even a little bit.

“It’s nice to meet you, then. I’m Leah” She takes a chance and holds out a hand, and to her utter delight, you take her hand in yours and shake it. Your hand was warm against hers, no noticeable cuts or scars which makes Leah think that your job didn’t require you to use your hands too often. Not that she was taking note or anything.

You introduce yourself, before gesturing to the mini man beside you. “It’s nice to meet you too. This is my son, Reid”

“Oh yeah. Spiderman.”

“Trick or Treat!” Both of you startle out from your staring contest and turn to the boy by your feet. Remnants of his fruit roll-up plastered all over his cheeks and chin like a paint palette. He grinned up at you, his eyes wide with the kind of mischief only a sugar rush could inspire.

“Trick or Treat! Trick or Treat!” he shouted gleefully, holding up his hands, sticky fingers wiggling in the air. Bits of bright colours clung to his lips, making him look even more ridiculous.

“Oh! I haven’t given you anything. Give me a minute, Spiderman”

Leah dashed to the pantry, rummaging through shelves filled with old boxes and canned goods. “No sweets, no chocolate bars, nothing!” she exclaimed, frustration mounting. She cursed herself for not heeding Lia’s advice to go out and buy a packet of sweets earlier. She opened her refrigerator, hunting through take out containers and cheeses, her mind racing through the bare options. A can of diet coke? Definitely not appropriate for a three-year-old.

Then she spotted it—a lone banana resting in the fruit basket. It was slightly overripe, but it would have to do. With an unwilling nod, Leah grabbed the banana and headed back to the door, her cheeks flushing slightly at the absurdity of it all. She was about to hand the kid of the hottest woman she has ever seen a banana. All because she couldn’t be arsed to go to the store earlier and pick up a couple bags of sweets. Shit.

As she arrived back to the door, there you stood with your son beside you. His tiny basket held high, expectantly. “Trick or treat!” he chimed. Again. A demanding little thing.

Leah crouched down, a sheepish smile on her face. “Well, Spiderman, I don’t have any sweets…but how about this?” She presented the banana like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

The boy blinked, his eyes wide. “A banana?”

“It’s a healthy treat!” Leah said, trying to sound enthusiastic. She side-eyed you, trying to gauge your reaction. You were watching on with a palm over your mouth, trying to smother the laugh threatening to spill out. You were cute, Leah thought.

But back to the kid. “Perfect for after all that candy you’ll be eating tonight!”

Spiderman looked at the banana in her hand, then back at Leah, and finally broke into a giggle. “Okay!” He nodded, holding up his trick or treating basket so she could slip it inside. It thumped lightly on top of the small pile of sweets and chocolates. The kid peered into the bucket and giggled seeing his latest treasure sitting right on top. Leah couldn’t exactly see under the mask, but he could see his cheeks were perked up and it looked like he was smiling, so she took that as a win. She risked another glance at you, and you were smiling too-- without hiding it behind your hand this time. A big win for sure.

You glance up towards Leah, noticing the slight flush on her cheeks and how attractive she looked when she tucked her loose hair behind her ear. It was also then that you noticed she had blue eyes.

You tuck that fun little fact in the back of your mind.

Snap yourself out of gazing at your neighbour like a creep, you pinch yourself lightly on the arm. Ouch. “Thanks for the healthy treat”

Leah smiles hearing the teasing glint in your voice. Leaning against the doorway, she brings a hand up to massage the back of her neck, her bicep flexing nicely against her shirt. Not that you noticed, of course.

“Yeah sorry ‘bout that”

“Nah it’s alright. I appreciate it actually– more than candy,” You look down at your son, who was completely enamoured by his latest haul. He kept staring down at his bucket, his head halfway inside the thing already. “And he seems really happy about it”

And as if he suddenly remembered what he was there for, Reid yanks his head out of his halloween bucket and looks up at you with wide eyes, exclaiming loudly “Mama, more candies!”

Giving your pretty neighbour a sheepish smile, you grab Reid’s hand before he can go bouncing off to find the next door. “And that’s our cue to go. Thank you again for”

You both speak at the same time.

“…for the banana” “the banana”

She laughs when she notices, and it's the most attractive laugh you have ever heard. It spills out naturally, unrestrained. And you find that you like the way her eyes crinkle at the ends. Her laugh was infectious as it was beautiful.

“So…uh– I’ll see you around?” Leah says, picking at the sleeves of her black sweatshirt. You want to say she sounds hopeful at the thought of you two bumping into each other in the near future because you feel the same. You hoped to see her again. “I mean– obviously we’re neighbours”

You find yourself not being opposed to that idea at all. “Yeah. Maybe we can talk or grab a coffee sometime?”

Where the sudden bravery came from you have no idea, but the words had already left your mouth and you weren’t going to take them back.

She smiles at you, her lips curving, and her eyes do too. “Definitely. I’d love to go for a coffee with you”

Perhaps you both stare at each other for a second too long, but that’s a secret only the both of you share. You linger, internally saddened at the thought of having to say a temporary goodbye, but you’ve got a coffee date to look forward to now. Steering your son and his Halloween bucket away from her door, you share one last smile with the pretty blonde who lives in the floor below you.

“Happy Halloween, Leah”

“Happy Halloween, neighbour”

You don’t hear the sound of her door closing until you and your son have turned the corner.

here's a little bedtime story to celebrate the last night of october. this is story #3 of Butter's Meadio-cre Mayhem (the Spooky Season collection)

(if you're going to any halloween parties tonight, stay safe my loves <333)

comments and reactions are always appreciated!

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #my fics #woso one shot #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson x you

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merakidoll · 7 months ago

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≡;- ꒰ °𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲꒱

choso and yuki - the couple who was known for their love of turing people out. but maybe this time you turned them out.

warnings : chubby reader! bi yuki (DUH) - oral (f) kinda (m) as well! yuki’s high key obsessed with readers taste! spiting in mouths, kissing, hickeys. vaginal penetration (unprotected) don’t be like them. tribbing, reader has nipple piercings, don’t get it twisted with all this slutting out their doing yuki and choso are STILL in love! yuki real gay! fingering. pet names : precious, princess, sugar, mommy, daddy. lots of cumming - 17+

mirah note! : my first fic AHH! please let me know if you liked it, also thank you for 6k, mwah!🎀 3.1k words

s.w.i.n.g.e.r.s.

swingers. that was the perfect word to describe yuki and choso. they were in love, even a blind man could sense it, but they both craved excitement. while yes, their sex was amazing and passionate, all things that were love and lust. they loved the thrill of turning out someone new. pulling all of their tricks they were supposed to reserve for one another, and doing it to someone else. making them fall head over heels with a chilling orgasm, and tear bringing aftercare, and then leaving. just before they could open their eyes. an already pre written note saying “this was fun” with both of their names waiting on the hotel’s pillow.

and this one was no different … right?

you intrigued them by your pink aura - well clothing. but aura as well. you were so bubbly, bouncing in your seat as you took small sips of your sex on the beach, hair bouncing with each move as well as your breast; which is what the pair was staring at. the automatic arousal came when you turned slightly, and the two ball shaped imprints where right where your hardened nipples sat. that’s when yuki knew to go in. she went in as she usually did. “hi precious, i couldn’t help but see how pretty you looked tonight” her voice calming, making your thighs clench, your big eyes staring at the gorgeous women and mouth practically drying.

“o-oh?” yuki got closer, kissing your cheek that was caked with a sunset orange blush that complimented your melanated skin…. her red lip stick staining you, as if she was claiming her prey- which in a way she was. yuki always went in first due to her maternal nature. she was a sexy woman; a pretty figure with words that knew how to melt anyone on the spot. the sight of his lover making the pretty pink princess shudder in her seat made choso’s dick harden.

he has been hard, MANY times. but this sight ? how the moment between you two was as if it was only you two in the room, eyes staring deep into one another with the hot, sensual skin contact. that was different, he stopped his staring when your eyes met his. his heart stopped for a moment. a deep heavy breath passing his pierced lip, but he made it very unnoticeable. a slight wave with a charming smile that again visibly made you shake in yuki’s hands. “oh, you think he’s pretty precious?” she smiled convincingly, kissing your neck and taking a deep inhale in your vanilla scent. pussy throbbing at how delectable you would be to just eat up.

before you or choso knew it, you were getting walked to the exact place he was sitting. his heart pounded hard, sweat growing on his palms- but again he played it cool. irritation boiled in the lower pits of his stomach at wondering you had him this nervous. not only you, but his girlfriend. it was as if ten minutes with you already had her dominance peaking. she already exuded so much power now everyone was captivated by her and it made him nervously hard. but he understood why as soon as you were next to him muttering a small “hi”. god you made him want to stuff your cunt- and your smell, pre cum stained onto his calvin klien’s. pants getting so tight he felt like he couldn’t breath

“what a pretty thing” he said looking up from you to yuki who was still attached to you. her face imprinted in your neck, dark eyes looking up at choso and a hmm falling from her mouth. “wanna eat her up right pretty?”

choso didn’t respond, already ready to go, he wanted to make you feel so damn good. and the way you looked up at him didn’t help the situation. three adults with three clouded minds left the bar on a mission. it was uncertain when the steamy makes outs started. but you’re pretty sure it was in the cab.

yuki tilted your head back and whispred for you to open your mouth, and an unexpected moan from the slow drop of the man’s spit falling into your mouth then going right into a hot kiss almost had you cum on spot.

or on the elevator up to the hotel room, yuki trapping you against the hard body of choso, giving you sweet kisses that had you craving more. with your closed eyes, you moved forward to get another but was met with air. and if you weren’t being held, you would have fallen face first

“pay attention princess, you’ll get another soon,” he reassured when you started to pout ushering you out. you and choso watched yuki’s hips move as she walked to the room likeshe owned the place.

her hips swaying captivating you both, and it didn’t help when she turned around to catch you both in the act. her beautiful smirk taking you both out of a trances. “you guys coming?” walking into the room, the door open as if you were practically walking into a room of hungry lions.

you had expected this, but not in this good. this was way more than expected. you knew they were skilled in their area, knowing how to work one’s body until they fainted from all of the pleasure. it’s funny because that’s exactly what they’re doing to you.

they looked better naked, both having toned bodies that picked your curvy frame up like you weighed nothing. they tossed you around like their personal fuck toy and you were enjoying every moment. you had came once on their long slender fingers, and clit rubs with kisses as you laid in yuki’s arms like a princess. “tell him how good it feels sugar. awe my princess loves that cho!” choso smiled, moving his head to kiss your thick thighs moaning at how good your cum - coated, pussy smelled.

as soon as the first orgasm ended, the second began, yuki resting you onto the pillow and meeting her lover at the edge of the bed. you were confused. missing her warmth and a small “w-what” leaving your dry lips. you had missed the silent communication the two exchanged. so into cumming that it’s the only thing on your mind, and the add on praises wasn’t helping. but when a shared kiss came and it was directly on your cunt, you knew the night was only getting started.

“o-ohhh,” you cried, both of them draping one leg over their shoulder. their tongues working together, kissing and licking you pussy clean to watch it get messy again. choso and yuki were calculated on their movements. locking lips at any giving moment and the happy spot just so happened to be where your clit was. your legs shook again, the meat on your thighs jiggling while you tried your best to push them away and close your legs. but you had absolutely no control. you were too weak. yuki slapping your thigh with a muffled “don’t be bad” that you wish could have gone unheard but it didn’t and all you wanted to do was be good for them.

choso moved back with a glistening face, enjoying the view his girlfriend was providing. he noticed that you hadn’t even resonated the missing mouth. yuki taking all control and slowly making her way down to you pink hole that clenched in the cool air. he watched as your hand creeped its way down. grabbing ahold of her blond hair, and fucking her …tounge into you at your own pace. “y-yes! don’tstopppp! p-please” you begged while bobbing yuki’s head into your pussy and she let you, enjoying the moment, her eyes closed while her stomach churned wetness dripping on the floor.

she started to feel pleasure shoot through her body. choso taking the initiative to please her. fucking his fingers into her pussy and sucking her nipples. he watched how you screamed, moving faster wanting you both to cum together. he popped one of the hard buds out of his mouth moving to kiss her ear. “almost there,” he said, starting to scissor his fingers inside of her, her shaky body head still being bobbed and ears ringing, everything feeling so good; all it took was for you to clench down on her wet warm muscle, your nails digging into her scalp as your orgasms hit you- hard.

“OH! OHMYGODDUHHH” you shut your eyes tight while pushing her head away, not even seeing the beautiful sight of the woman cumming herself. she fell back onto choso, cream all over her face and cum in her mouth that she choked on from having too much going on with her body. choso watched you both lose your minds. as yuki came he still fucked his fingers into her, making her get so sensitive that when she finally stopped creaming all over his fingers and the floor, the room was silent. each woman needing a break. so he began to plot, eyes on you once he laid his love on the ground to catch her breath.

your were balled on the bed, hands holding your- what he could assume was a very sensitive cunt. he wonders if you thought they were done, if you thought you were leaving without being stuffed. yuki could practically tell what her boyfriend was thinking- and she herself was thinking the same thing just needed to regain her energy. gently tapping his thigh she looked in his eyes and nodded. oh, how you were so oblivious to the fun just not starting. “you okay?” he walked over to you, getting on the bed. you hummed with a mind still foggy, pussy throbbing intensely.

“words princess” his voice low and commanding that you opened you watery eyes and mumbled “y-yes daddy” making him groan. it not helping his hard cock that stood right on your face begging to be touched. this was your first time seeing it for tonight. while he wasn’t very long, choso had girth; the type to stretch you like you’ve never been stretched before and if he knew how to work it right, make it go so deep. and it’s choso we’re talking about - of course he knew how to.

“can you handle more” he slyly asked using the pads of his thumb to wipe off the mascara streak and cursing to himself at how pretty you looked; just like a fucked out princess. he has taken away your thought of asking where the women went. preparing yourself for yet another orgasm that was going to take much more out of you than the other two. his instructions were clear: sit on your knees in front of him. and you did just that, taking the little time that you had to look for yuki who was no where to be found. your heart tingling a little at not seeing her, wanting both of their attention. but when choso started to suck on your neck, you had forgotten about your train of thought.

whimpering and tilting your head so he could do more, he noticed your actions, licking from the mark he just created to his next one. “naughty girl,” his words went right to your core. where he slowly spread your legs and dipped his hand down to see if you were wet enough to take him- he already knew the answer. when your slimy juice dripped into his palm, he moaned against you, spreading your legs wider and putting his cock in between you. you back was against his chest, his nipples rubbing over your skin felt amazing. you could feel his cock rub between your walls; mouth opening in a silent cry when the tip of him touched your bud. “you ready beautiful? because god am i ready to ruin you”

“y-yes! yes please daddy” the name sent electricity throughout his body, his rough hands turning your head to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his lips as your tongues danced around each others. his tip poking at your hole and pushing in, the fat head stretching you so much that you’re moaning loudly in his mouth. “that’a g-girl” he groaned, shutting his eyes while still kissing you, taking it deeper as your pussy took him deep all the way until you met the base. everything felt so full, a small print in your chubby tummy and choso gripping your love handles to pull you back onto him.

you breast jerking from his rough yet soft thrust. “feel good, baby?” he watched your face scrunch and your body shake and all it took was one little plunge. you were dizzy, brain going back to this cumcumcum state where all you could fathom was feeling good. he started slow, sliding his hand to wrap around you throat, gently squeezing the area and making you clench a patch of cream going around him. once you started to scream, “m-more! harder daddy” he did that for you - after all you were his princess.

you pussy felt so good, like the best warm hug after a crying session. except this time the warm hug is what had him crying. choso has fucked a lot of pussy, and ass because he was a women and man catcher. but nothing could compare to yuki or you for that matter. the way you both squeezed down on him, taking his dick just right. he fit like a glove in not only her - but you. and it was questionable if he would really want to give this up.

even with pumping his cock into and fucking you like the slut that you are, he longed for the dynamic that was three - you, yuki, and himself had. he questioned where she was missing her presence and all of his thinking subsided when she crawled on the bed like an animal hunting her prey- you

her eyes were darker, ready to taste the juicy pussy again. when yuki had disappeared she made her way to the bathroom cursing herself at how the taste of pussy, and choso amazing fingers had her losing her mind. the two lovers not knowing they were fighting the same internal battle- and that was not wanting to leave you. the sight that she walked out to after getting herself together had heat gushing to her core. she could hear your begs and moans, whimpers and pleads of you wanting to be fucked. but she wasn’t expecting the sight to look so damn pretty. the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

she knew that you didn’t see her or feel her get onto the bed, and the look she gave choso told him to not mention it. laying beneath you she could see the way his cock fucked you. she could see how deep he was, how your hole took him in so well making a mess. she found the displayof your pussy taking his cock so ethereal that it would be cruel to not at least give where you both met a kiss. she moved her face close sticking her tounge out to catch the juices that splattered everywhere when you met his base. with once he moved out a little, she kissed your pussy and licked up to his cock. “y-yuki! fuck” choso’s voice cried his body shaking, his orgasm so close. “c-cum p-please!” you asked as fresh tears falling from your eyes, you pussy getting sensitive and the duo of getting fucked and licked made you feel faint.

what you both thought was one time because multiple, yuki going back to eating your pussy and occasionally licking choso, watching how he got sloppy with his thrust and you couldn’t stop clenching. “i’m t-there baby! fuck i’m there … c- cum with me, hm?” his breath grew short, his balls feeling full to the point they hung lower than before. “g-gonna stuff this cunt,” he closed his eyes seeing stars “g-gonna give you p-pretty babies and make y-you stay w-with me and y-yuk- SHIT!” he yelled when she kissed one of his veins. yuki listened to his words, her pussy juices getting on the already filthy bed, enjoying the day dream of what’s he was saying.

and you were too. the idea of having their babies being theirs could only make you say “IMCUMMINGGG!” yuki didn’t move when you squirted all over her face, the mixture of choso cum too because, god, you were tightening around him too much that he couldn’t hold back. she let the messy wetness pour down on her, moaning to the taste like the best forbidding fruit and she wanted to have it all the time. she never knew she loved eating pussy that much until tonight. until you blessed her with your sweet nectar. now she feels you’re the only source that will help her survive.

choso pulled out, both of you falling on the bed. she took that time to do her final bid - to finally break you, making you cum one last time. your blurred vision moaned when her wet cunt met yours. “m-mommy” you said, bitting your lip “i-i can’t take ittt” you hiccuped when she started to hump into you. your messy cunts rubbing together and creating the best rhythm. choso wasn’t shocked, he knew his girlfriend had a thing for tribbing, calling it “the finale stretch” in this night long love making with their person of the night.

but instead of going rough as she usually did, she went soft, kissing your lips and praising how much she loved your cunt. now, you were theirs, and he didn’t feel upset, enjoying the show because all of their marks of claims were true. they had no intention on leaving you after a night like this. you teared up, your cunt sensitive and your next orgasm just two more humps away. you kissed yukis soft lips as your pussy came again. she could feel the gush of you get on her. how your clit rubbed against her fold just right, and you pretty little cries of “m-mommyc-cum!cumm” made her let go. god, she loved when you called her mommy.

when she lazily fell beside you, you instantly curled into their warm embraces falling into a deep sleep. usually the two would make their person stay up for aftercare; but this time, they opted for a quick clean and cuddled, already planning this new life with you. and they were gonna show you the best aftercare when the sun rose and they didn’t feel exhausted. because you were different.

the sun crept through the draped curtains, hitting choso who felt a cool sheet beside him first. he instantly sat up, seeing his girlfriend laying next to him. but not you.

instead, what was on your pillow waiting for them was a note, and a thong.

“this was fun! thanks xoxo”

2K notes · View notes

joelscruff · 9 months ago

Text

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TEN

masterlist | kofi | notifs | *spongebob narrator voice* 4 months later. well, i'm not gonna bore you all with excuses, god knows most of you have heard what's been goin' on with me at this point lmao. but yall have been so patient and lovely and i really really appreciate it. i hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a little bit of bliss before things get... interesting. there's still more to come (about four chapters or so) and i'll try to update much sooner next time but please remember i'm only one person & i write this for fun (and for free) in my spare time!!! ik it can be frustrating when there are long periods between updates but i'm trying my best, please know that. k love u bye 💕 chapter summary: you & joel enjoy your little weekend getaway, far from the prying eyes and ears of your parents. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age gap (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 50s), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink (joel has a big dick), tummy bulge, deepthroating (or...attempted deepthroating), cum swallowing, fingering, pussy kisses, ridiculous amounts of fluff, namedropping one of my fav songs of all time because i can, the tiniest mention of sexual assault (aka noah) word count: 12.9k ao3

You think you might finally understand what it means to experience happiness.

Not the feelings you've faked for most of your life, not the plastered-on smiles and faux giggles, autopilot prayers and forced gratitude. No - real happiness. That tingling sensation of nothing but pure bliss, safety, love, and peace, something that's felt far out of your reach for most of your life. It swells in your chest, makes a home in your heart as you nuzzle into fluffy pillows, warm bedsheets, and feel yourself drift in and out of consciousness, completely and utterly relaxed. Happy, you can't help but think to yourself, I'm so happy.

You're aware of Joel's presence, fading in and out here and there as he wipes a damp cloth between your legs, across your stomach, down your thighs - taking care of you, making sure you're comfortable. Afterward he cuddles in behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, buries his face in the back of your neck and inhales deeply; you wonder if he's feeling the exact same way you are right now - god, you hope he is.

"That felt so good," you murmur to him softly, eyes still closed, "Felt so good, Joel."

He kisses your neck, holds you tighter in his embrace, "I know, babygirl."

"Can still feel you inside me," you breathe, "It's like you're still there."

He chuckles softly, "Not to burst your bubble but that's probably cum. Couldn't get all of it with the cloth." The words that should be dirty - should seem shameful - do nothing but send a warm tingle down your spine, a sleepy smile to your face. You know he's right - you can still feel something warm deep inside you, a slow trickle making its way to your opening, but there's something else. You're still pulsing every so often around the phantom of a shape, an echo of what was still there only a few moments ago.

"It's not just that," you shuffle in the sheets, nuzzling your face further into the pillow, "it's like... like you're still in there, spreading me open."

He groans and his grip around you tightens, fingertips pressing into the malleable softness of your belly. He leans down to press a small kiss to your ear, "Can't just say stuff like that, angel. Gonna get me hard again." You shiver.

"Good," you whisper, "'Cause I want you to do it again."

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets as he pulls you in, scruff nuzzling against the bare skin of your shoulder, "We'll wait a little bit," he murmurs, "You're gonna start feelin' a little sore soon, if you don't already."

"I don't," you breathe, and you mean it. "Doesn't hurt at all, really. It... it didn't hurt. I always thought it would hurt."

You can almost feel his frown against your skin, "S'not supposed to hurt," he murmurs, "Woulda stopped if you'd been in any pain."

You smile, "I know you would've."

He hums into your hair, strokes his hand down along your arm, "S'good," he mumbles, and you're suddenly aware of the heaviness in his voice, the way his lips wrap lazily around the words.

"Are you sleepy?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, "M'sleepy."

You smile at the adorable admission, then lean back into his embrace and settle in. The sun is starting to go down, casting the room in long orange and blue shadows, warm and comforting. Your eyes close again and you focus on that blissful feeling, on the weight of Joel's naked body behind you holding you close, the sound of his breathing, his smell. On the fact that you've never felt more safe in your entire life.

"I'm so glad it was you," you whisper, and you don't mind if he's already fallen asleep.

You're not sure how long you both nap, but you wake up soon after to a completely dark hotel room, save for the flickering lights from the traffic below and the warm glow of the buildings outside the window. Your eyes flutter for a few seconds as your brain reconnects you to the present, and you're suddenly very aware of a dull ache in your groin, an unpleasant throb that hadn't been there earlier.

"Ow," you mumble incoherently, reaching blindly for the blankets and pulling them back to peer down at yourself, but the room is so dark that it's difficult to see anything properly, "Ow."

"S'wrong?" you hear Joel mumble beside you, stirring from his own slumber.

You wince in embarrassment, shaking your head, "It's nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y'said 'ow'," you feel him sit up and reach over to turn on the lamp, "You okay?"

As soon as the lamplight floods the room your eyes cast downward, half expecting to see some medical emergency, some horrific reason for the vacation to end early, to ruin everything before it's barely even started - but thankfully it's none of those things. You're just a little swollen - puffier than usual - and aching, but not in a good way. You bring your hand down and cup yourself gently, hissing a bit when your fingers brush against your opening; it feels almost like a bruise.

"Oh, honey," Joel murmurs, and you turn your head to see his brows furrowing in concern, "Y'sore?"

You wince, biting your lip, "Um, a little."

He frowns and pulls his own side of the blankets back, and you can't help the warmth that floods your cheeks when you see his exposed body; the dark hair wisping across his tan skin, his soft belly and strong thighs - and his cock, soft and heavy and impossible not to look at. You've seen him naked several times at this point but every time still somehow feels like the first, like it's brand new. You watch as he crawls downward and gently places his hand on top of yours.

"Lemme see," he murmurs softly, and you allow him to pull your hand back, exposing your sore pussy to him. His brow furrows, "Aw baby, you're all swollen."

"Is that normal?"

He nods, eyes still trailing up and down, "It's normal," he assures you, "It's probably worse 'cause - well," he smiles sheepishly, peering up at you.

"'Cause you're so big," you finish for him, your own lips turning up into a smirk, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, that." You watch as he brings his hands down and very carefully thumbs your outer lips, pulls them apart to assess what's inside. He groans, and you're about to ask what's wrong when you see a thin stream of his cum dribble out onto the sheets below.

"Fuck," you both whisper at the same time, and when your eyes meet you can see that his are suddenly dark, glassy. You feel yourself begin to throb beneath his touch.

"Still full o'me," he murmurs, eyes trailing back down to where you're dripping, "Messy girl."

Your own eyes go hooded as you watch him lean down and press a small kiss to your clit; your hips buck up, a whimper slipping past your lips as his whiskers prickle deliciously against your sensitive skin. He smiles against you, kisses your clit again and darts his tongue out to taste, just for a moment. You whine.

"I know what you need, babygirl" he whispers, nosing your mound and closing his eyes, "I know what'll help."

Your mind races with possibilities. "Wh-what?"

He suddenly pulls back, crooked smile lighting up his beautiful face, "A bath. It'll help with the soreness." Oh. He presses another kiss to your clit, "If I can bring myself to stop kissin' this perfect pussy."

You giggle softly and he opens his eyes to look up at you again, smiling tenderly. He reluctantly pulls himself off you and climbs off the bed, reaching down to grab his discarded underwear from the floor. "I'll start runnin' the water," he tells you softly, pulling them on and taking a step forward to brush your hair out of your face, "You just relax, sweet girl. Don't move a muscle."

The bath is warm and inviting, lit candles lining the counter and floor and dousing the room in a warm glow; it's hard to believe only a few hours earlier you were on the verge of a panic attack on these very tiles. Now you lean back against the cool rim of the claw foot tub, eyes closed as you submerge yourself in the hot water. There's no panic or anxiety in your body anymore, just warmth and comfort and the welcome ache in your groin, the smell of vanilla in your nose.

"Good temp?" Joel asks softly nearby, and you hear his hand breach the surface of the water, testing the heat. You smile.

"Perfect," you breathe, eyes still closed, "Thank you."

His hand brushes lightly against yours under the water and he squeezes it gently, then murmurs, "I'll give you some privacy."

Your eyes snap open, "No," you cradle his hand in both of yours as your brows furrow, "Stay."

A smile breaks across his face, charming and boyish as he seats himself down next to the bathtub with barely any hesitation, like he'd been hoping you'd say that. He keeps hold of your hand beneath the water and tilts his face toward yours - you press your forehead against his and breathe a long sigh of relief.

"Feelin' okay?" he murmurs, "Emotionally?"

You nod, sighing contentedly, "More than okay," you whisper, "I... I still can't believe it actually happened." Your lips twitch upward and you press a soft kiss to his cheek, closing your eyes, "Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again beneath the water before pulling out and bringing it upwards to cradle your face, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes are still a bit sleepy, hair sticking up in all directions and that beautiful smile still lighting up his face as he thumbs your cheek.

"I should be thankin' you," he breathes, "For trustin' me like that, bein' so vulnerable with me." He leans in to kiss you tenderly, but his words send a sudden flutter of insecurity through your body and you pull back to look at him again, unsure.

"Was I... was I good at it?" you ask quietly, "Did I do okay?"

"Oh, angel," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to cup both your cheeks and brush his nose gently against yours, "You did so good. So, so, so good."

He ends up washing your hair, a small but significant gesture that makes the feelings from earlier bubble up again, the warm fondness and tenderness and love. You lean back in the tub, eyes closed, lost in the sensations of his big hands deftly applying the shampoo and conditioner, massaging it into your scalp and making your eyes roll back. It's ridiculous how even this makes you throb beneath the surface, the ache dissipating a bit in the hot water. So much so that when he caps the conditioner and rinses your hair once again, you reach up to take his hand and squeeze, eyes still shut.

"Touch me," you whisper, voice already desperate, "Please."

He doesn't need any convincing, inching toward the side of the tub and reaching inside to cup your pussy in his big hand again, softly rubbing your clit. You whimper and tremble, gripping the edge of the tub for support and whining when he speeds up, circling and rubbing it exactly how you like it.

"Poor little pussy," you hear him murmur, "Just needs some relief after gettin' fucked like that, doesn't she baby?"

"Mmhmm," you manage to hum, squeezing the sides of the tub and nodding furiously, "Y-yeah."

"Took so much cock in this little hole," he whispers, and that's enough to send you over the edge, eyes snapping open as you shake and shiver in the hot water. You see him sitting there, smiling at you with a devious glint in his eyes. He knows exactly the effect he has on you.

"What do we do now?" you ask him softly from the couch a little while later, carefully scrunching a towel in your hair and watching as he changes the bedsheets upon your request - you'd felt a bit embarrassed asking, but you'd really rather not sleep in a wet spot. He'd been more than gracious in honoring your request.

It's late, but the nap and the bath have left you feeling wide awake, and you have to admit that you're feeling a bit hungry too despite the full meal earlier. Does sex make you hungry? You file it as a question to ask Tasha.

"Whatever you wanna do, darlin'," he says with a smile, turning down the sheets and gesturing for you to join him in bed again, "C'mere."

You give your hair one last squeeze and pad over to the bed, clad in Joel's Grateful Dead shirt from earlier today. You don't care in the slightest that it's not necessarily the cleanest article of clothing to be wearing after a bath - it smells like him, feels like him. You just can't get enough of him.

Insatiable.

You both climb back into bed and he pulls you in immediately, tugging you close and wrapping his big arms around you. You lean back into him and feel yourself grinning without even really thinking about it, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of his chest moving back and forth against your back with every breath.

"Always look so pretty in my shirts, babygirl," he whispers in your ear, and it sends tingles down your spine, a rush of warmth to your heart. He kisses you gently and you listen as he inhales deeply, nose buried in your damp hair. His hand travels downward and you both watch as he cups your pussy yet again, warm and soft.

"Feelin' a little better?" he asks quietly, thumb trailing gently up and down your outer lips, "Still sore?"

"Better," you reassure him gently - and you mean it; the warm water did help to ease the ache.

He hums and continues to trace your soft lips, nosing your ear and breathing deeply again, and fuck, you could get used to this. This casual intimacy, being touched without any expectations, any fear or anxiety. Feeling safe and wanted and cared for in his embrace, no worrying about getting home early, no time limit looming. Just you and him.

I love you, you want to whisper.

Your stomach growls.

He removes his hand almost immediately. "Room service," he says with a chuckle, and your eyes snap open again as he reaches over and grabs the menu on the nightstand, placing it in front of you both, "Pick your poison."

Your eyes are drawn almost immediately to the dessert section, followed by a short wave of guilt. You're craving something sweet, but you can't help but think back to being a kid again, asking for treats and being denied, feeling as if your desires were unimportant, childish, silly.

But no, you're not that scared kid anymore. You're not. You won't be.

You bite your lip, "You know what I could really go for right now?"

"What?"

"It's silly, but-"

"It ain't silly, babygirl," he murmurs, and his big hand travels down to squeeze your thigh gently, a comforting gesture, "Whatever it is, it ain't silly."

Less than a minute later he's on the phone with room service, ordering you a hot fudge sundae.

You spend the rest of the night nestled in the warmth of your hotel bed, flicking between channels, legs tangled together beneath the sheets as you take turns scooping heaping spoons of ice cream back and forth. Your mouth and fingertips are sticky, chocolate lining your lips, dribbles of melted vanilla dolloped on your chin which Joel wastes no time in delicately lapping up with his tongue.

"God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he whispers to you, kisses you softly, darts his tongue out to taste again. You hum against his lips and try to keep your emotions at bay; he tastes like chocolate and vanilla and safety.

Waking up is different with the morning sun shining brightly through the hotel windows, but that's not the only thing that's different; you notice as your eyes flutter open that the ache in your groin is gone, replaced by a growing hunger and arousal in the pit of your stomach.

Oh, wow.

Joel's arms are around you, wrapped strong and solid, and when you turn within them and see him sleeping next to you, the hunger only grows. God, he's so handsome like this - the grey in his hair sparkling in the early light, jaw soft and lax with sleep, cheeks flushed. Almost angelic in his own way, gentle and peaceful.

Until his eyelashes begin to flutter delicately against the streams of sunlight, brow furrowing in sleepy confusion at your sudden movement; he's awake.

The desire in your belly burns.

"You look so cute," you whisper without even really thinking about it, and his eyelashes halt their fluttering to give you another look of confusion.

"Cute's not exactly a word I'd use to describe myself," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, "S'all you."

"Well, I would," you reply with a smile, watching as he closes his eyes again and nestles his face into the pillow. You reach forward to gently thumb one of the lines at the corner of his mouth, deep-set and soft beneath your touch. His eyelids twitch but he doesn't open them, "You're so soft too," you admit quietly.

"Again," he breathes, lips turning up slightly into a sleepy smile, "Not a word I'd use."

"Cute and soft," you repeat, thumb moving downward to trace the shape of his bottom lip, "And mine."

He chuckles under his breath, face smooshing a little more into the pillow, "M'yours," he murmurs, "all yours."

All yours.

You lean in even closer and inhale deeply, nose trailing up and down along his temple. Your eyes almost roll back at the scent of him, the masculine and heady aroma of his sweat alighting your senses. You're wide awake now, pussy throbbing somewhere below as you press a kiss to the apple of his cheek, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

His eyes open halfway, eyebrow raising as he sleepily watches you work your mouth up and down the side of his face, breath coming quicker and more frantic as your legs wind around him under the sheets. Obliging your desperation, his big arms tighten around you and he rolls the both of you, allowing you to settle on top of his large, warm body.

You stare down at him, hunger clear in your eyes.

"You were inside me," you whisper.

His mouth turns up at the corners, "I was."

"It felt really good."

"It did."

You lean your face down to trace your nose along his cheekbone again, eyes hooded, voice needy.

"I want you to be inside me again."

He peers up at you, sleepiness already fading from his expression as he watches yours with mirrored desire, "Yeah? You want me to be inside you right now?"

You nod, "Yes, please."

"Then turn over on your side, angel."

A little confused but certainly not opposed, you do as he says, rolling back over onto your side and resting your head softly against your pillow. You feel his hand dip downwards beneath the sheets, then his fingertips glide smoothly along your abdomen. Your heart hammers in your chest when he lifts up your - or rather, his - shirt and thumbs your tummy gently.

"Are y'still sore?" he murmurs, "How d'you feel?"

"M'wet, Joel," you whimper, grinding back against the blankets and trying to feel him, "M'really wet."

"Lemme feel," he breathes, hand trailing downward even further. His fingers dip into your soft, soaked centre and a low groan rumbles in his throat, "Oh babygirl, so wet for me."

"Put it in," you whimper, not caring how pathetic and needy you probably sound, "Please, Joel, put it in me again."

"Christ," you hear him mutter, arousal burning in his voice, "Okay baby, hold still, I'll put it in. I'll make you feel better."

Seconds later you feel the heat of his tip crowding the space at your entrance, already wet and sticky. A soft moan falls from your throat at the sensation, eyes closing as you feel Joel's hand cup your leg and pull it upwards, holding you open. He hooks it in the crook of his arm, shuffling forward a bit and pushing the head of his cock inside your heat.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, head falling backwards. You feel his nose in your hair again, feel the stretch of your pussy and the widening of your thighs as he pulls your leg up even more.

"Yeah, there you go," he murmurs, pushing inside further. He goes slow, takes his time, until he's fully sheathed inside of you and your eyes are rolling back on their own accord, quiet whimpers tumbling past your lips. "Yeah, look at you takin' that cock."

As if by muscle memory your hand reaches downwards to cup the protruding shape of him at the bottom of your tummy, a low whine in your throat. He's so big inside you, nestled perfectly within the deepest parts of your body just like he'd been last night, large and warm.

"Feels so good," you manage to gasp out, other hand clenching into a fist against your pillow, "So good, so good." It's almost a mantra, voice breathless as you squish your face against the cotton and push back almost lazily against him, his balls settling heavy and warm at the base of your ass. You can feel every twitch of his shaft, the way the tip pulses against that special spot within.

"Yeah, you like bein' full like that, don't you baby?" he murmurs, "Don't even need me to move, do you? Just like feelin' it in there, huh?"

And you almost hate how right he is, how just the sensation of being so full of him already has you on the edge of an orgasm without any stimulation. Because you want more, you want what he gave you last night, want him to fuck you even firmer, deeper, without holding back. You want it to last hours.

But you know it's too much before he even starts to move, that familiar ache in your groin returning as your walls constrict around the long shape of him. He pulls out slowly, takes his time, pushes back in at a snail's pace. You feel a tickling sensation against your clit, his pubic hair pressing deliciously against the wet skin as he fills you - and without any warning, you start to come.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you cry out into the sunlit hotel room, trembling in his arms, legs shaking. You can tell in his body language behind you that he's taken aback by your sudden release, hand suddenly dropping from your calf so he can palm your sternum and pull you against him.

"Oh, honey," he groans, simultaneously tender and aroused, "Are you comin', baby? You comin' just from bein' stuffed full like that?"

"Yes," you grit out, voice a high keen as your body shakes and your release stretches out before the both of you in quick spasms, "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Nonono, no sorries," his voice is honey in your ear, fingertips grazing your nipples as he lays his palm flat against your chest, "You're a good girl, angel. You're such a good girl."

You continue to spasm on his cock, legs quivering and pathetic whines tearing from your throat until your orgasm has passed and you're just leaning back into his embrace, eyes closed. You breathe deeply, lashes fluttering when he noses your jaw and presses a soft kiss to the space beneath.

"S'alot for you," he murmurs, "I know it's a lot, babygirl. Don't ever gotta apologize for comin' too fast, not to me."

You hum softly, still extremely aware of his girthy size stretching you out somewhere below. Your eyes open and you peer downwards, brows scrunching in wonder and pleasure when you see where you're joined, where his flesh meets yours. You really are full, the base of his cock barely visible beneath your folds, the pubic hair that had caused your early release still pressed against your outer lips.

"How does it even fit?" you ask softly, almost by accident, but he just chuckles.

"The human body is a hell of a thing," he murmurs, kissing your cheek and pulling you in even closer, shuffling you on his dick just a little bit and making you wince a bit with oversensitivity, "You want me to pull out?"

"No," you shake your head and readjust yourself in his embrace, taking a breath, "No, I want you to keep going."

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't need telling twice. Within seconds he's resumed his slow and careful thrusts, almost rhythmic in their presses and pulls, filling you and emptying you in melodic succession. You reach down and take his big hand in yours, squeeze his fingers and let him fuck you like he had last night - tender, soft, comfortable. It almost doesn't feel real; how are you in a hotel room in another city, wrapped up in bed with a man three times your age, his cock buried to the hilt inside your body while you whimper and twitch in his arms? How did you get here?

"Y'know, women are a bit different than men in the orgasm department," Joel says gently behind you, stroking your hand with his thumb, "You might be able to come again if we try."

Your eyebrows go up, "Really?"

"Mmhmm," his hand slips from yours and he reaches it downward to carefully prod one of his fingers against your sensitive clit. You buck in his arms but don't protest, watching as he temporarily halts his slow thrusts to rub you softly. Your eyes go hooded, body melting like jelly in his arms as his his thick fingers slowly begin to work against the already swollen bud.

"Feel good?" he whispers.

"Yes."

He continues his careful circling, presses a kiss to your shoulder and resumes fucking into you. The sounds are pornographic in nature, surrounding your senses and filling the room with the low slap of his hips against your ass and the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his palm. But it somehow doesn't feel dirty or shameful - in fact, it's hard to imagine anything that feels more right than this.

"Joel," you breathe shakily, face twisting against the pillow again, heart pounding.

"I know, feels good doesn't it, babygirl?" he noses your skin and breathes you in, hooks your leg under his arm a bit more and groans softly, "God, you're so fuckin' tight. Such a tight fuckin' pussy."

It's your pussy, you want to breathe, it's yours. I'm yours. But you can barely get any words out as his thrusts pick up speed, as the sounds get louder and his fingers against your clit become firmer in their movements. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the fire in your belly burning hotter than ever as you let him crowd your space as much as possible, let his body push yours further and further until your eyes are rolling back and all you can feel is the steady thrust of his big cock and the girth of his fingers against your pussy.

"I'm coming," you moan out weakly, "M'coming again, Joel."

You don't hear what he says in response, ears muffled as if you're underwater, pleasure spreading throughout your body and hitting you at full force like a hurricane as he fucks you through it. You're barely aware of the sounds you're making, high pitched and almost feral as his hips slap against yours a few more times. And then you feel it, the hot pulses of his cum painting your insides, filling you up as his cock spasms and twitches deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, voice thick with pleasure and sleep as he buries his face in your hair, hips stuttering, "Fuck. Take it, there you go."

Yeah, you could get used to this.

You'd been pretty sure you wouldn't leave the hotel room this weekend, just like you'd told him a few days prior. The thought of staying wrapped up in bedsheets, warm bodies pressed up against each other, sharing soft kisses and quiet whispers and tender looks...it'd be more than enough for an enjoyable getaway.

But it's hot, way hotter than you'd anticipated before arriving - and the pool is calling your name.

Or maybe something else is calling your name.

You stand in the bathroom and stare at your bikini clad form, a smile curving your lips as you assess the thin straps and baby pink frills. To think you'd tried to return this to Joel, briefly refused to wear it. Now you're about to don it in front of a hotel pool full of people like a normal woman, like someone without shame, without guilt, without a mother who'd skin her alive if she saw her wearing it.

Your smile falters.

You'd texted your mother after getting out of bed, apologized once again for missing her calls last night and told her you had a "busy" day at the festival ahead of you, that you'd let her know when you leave tomorrow. All she'd said in response was Ok.

You'd climbed back into bed defeatedly, finding a home against Joel's naked form, "She's mad at me," you'd murmured softly against his bare chest, squished into his side with his heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

"Don't think about her right now," he'd whispered, carding his fingers gently through your hair, "Think about this. How this feels."

He'd peered at you so softly, so full of warmth and affection. Those three words had been on the tip of your tongue again, so close to tumbling past your swollen lips - but you'd held it in.

It hadn't stopped you from texting Tasha though:

we had sex and i love him.

UM!! UMMM!!!! DETAILS????

monday!!! i'll call you

🫡 ok slut just leave me hangin i see how it is. AT LEAST TELL ME HE LIKED THE LINGERIE.

oh he liked it :)

queen shit

"Hi, pretty girl," Joel's voice says suddenly, and you're snapped from your reflection in the mirror to find him leaning against the doorway, clad in a pair of swim trunks and a Bob Dylan t-shirt, "Look at you."

You pose a little bit, hand on your hip, "Think the pool boys will like it?"

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, "I don't doubt it, but they might have some competition." He holds out his hand for you and you take it, stepping forward to let him pull you in close.

"They couldn't hold a candle to you," you whisper honestly, and he kisses your forehead with a smile, thumbing the corner of your mouth.

"Wait 'til you see my breaststroke, that'll really get you goin'."

You snort and slap his arm playfully, "Lead the way, pool boy."

Joel may have just been teasing about his swimming ability, but he certainly hadn't been wrong about it getting you going. You watch from the comfort of a lounge chair as he whips back and forth across the broad expanse of the hotel pool like a bullet, kicking off from end to end without much effort at all. His arms are strong and lean, body fast and nimble as the water splashes around his broad form. Every so often his face peeks up from the water and you catch a glimpse of his drenched scruff, the way the greying locks of his hair curl down his forehead into his eyes. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

You're laid out in your bikini just watching, letting him expel some energy before you join him. He'd told you he likes swimming but doesn't get to do it as much as he'd like, what with his work responsibilities. You wonder if he'd ever want to swim in your parent's pool...

You shake the thought away as soon as you think of it. There's no feasible way that could work, no option that wouldn't involve an obscene amount of risk. But still... the thought of watching him from the comfort of your own backyard, just completely alone without any bystanders or hotel guests...

"You gonna join me or what?" Joel suddenly calls from the water, and you blink the thoughts away and throw him a grin. He wades near the shallow end, arms coming up to lean against the concrete edge as he peers at you. "Don't keep me waitin', baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, unable to help but glance back and forth to see if anyone is watching, listening. Everyone else seems to be minding their own business, lost in their own conversations, their own fun. Nobody cares that you're here with him. Nobody cares what you're wearing.

Slipping from the lounge chair, you totter over to the edge where Joel resides and slowly sink down onto the concrete, kicking your legs over the side to seat yourself in front of him.

"God, these legs," he almost groans, immediately taking one in his hands and massaging your calf, your knee, your thigh, "Look at you."

"Stop acting like you haven't seen me naked," you tease, though you still feel a bit shy underneath his gaze as he moves his attention to your other leg.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop admirin' this body," he seems lost in his own movements as he caresses the space behind your knee, "You're so god damn beautiful." His hands suddenly wrap around your waist and without much warning he's carefully pulling you down into the water, moving you in close. On instinct your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"How the hell am I here with you right now, huh?" he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose gently against yours, "How're you even real?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply a little breathlessly, "I've been asking myself that since we got here."

He slowly turns your bodies in the water, peering down into your eyes like you're the only people here - and you might as well be. You're unable to stop yourself from leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, from letting your tongue dart out to gently explore his mouth; he tastes like toothpaste and chlorine.

"Y'gonna swim with me?" he asks after you've pulled away, pupils blown a bit wider, "Gonna put that little swimsuit to good use?"

"I think I'm putting it to good use right now," you breathe, inching closer so your breasts are pushing against his chest. You're genuinely surprising yourself at your own boldness, especially in such a crowded place - it's almost like you're a different person here, the person you're supposed to be, confidence coursing through your veins. You stand on your tiptoes beneath the water, bringing one of your legs up to wind around his waist.

"Hmm," he hums, and his face is still dripping with water, the wrinkles in his skin peppered with little droplets that make you crazy, "You do have a point there, darlin'."

You lean in again to kiss him, feel a burst of pride in your chest when you see the sudden hunger and arousal in his expression. Just before your lips touch however, you pull back from him and throw yourself into the water, turning back to toss him a cheeky grin.

"Gotta catch me first," you giggle, then speed off in the opposite direction, leaving him standing there with a look of surprise etched on his face - followed quickly by a look of determination.

"Oh, I will," he practically growls, diving into the water in the same manner and reaching out to grab your ankle.

Time passes quickly in the pool, Joel chasing you back and forth, catching you time and time again until you're a giggling mess with tears streaming down your face and his fingers pinching your sides. You can't remember the last time you had this much fun, felt so free and light. You suppose your night out with Tasha had been a fun experience for the most part, until you remember the vague feeling of an unfamiliar body pressed against you from behind and the smell of alcohol crowding your senses on the dance floor.

No, don't think about that.

Before long you've exhausted yourselves, settled back near the edge of the pool where you started and just softly talking to each other. His big hands are all over you beneath the water, palms wide on your bare hips and tummy, caressing your thighs and your back, touching everywhere he can reach. You feel almost lightheaded with desire, eyes hooded as you peer up at him and tighten your arms around his neck, pull him closer and silently beg for more. You can feel the shape of his hardening cock through his swim trunks, pressed wet and heavy against your thigh. It makes you salivate.

You suddenly hook your chin into his shoulder, bury your face in his neck and whisper, "I wanna suck it, Joel."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, hands exploring your back and holding you tighter against him, letting you rut softly against his bulge, "You wanna go back to the room and suck on it, babygirl?"

You nod ferociously against him, "Yes. Please."

It doesn't take long at all for you both to be out of the pool and making your way back over to the chairs to grab your towels. It's frantic the way you rush to dry off, slipping back into your flip flops and shaking the water from your hair as quickly as possible. Joel follows suit, ruffling his own towel through his hair and making your body burn with need, lost in how sexy he looks with water droplets cascading down his large and strong form, dipping down his sternum and into his belly button. All you can think while you look at him is how badly you want to lick, to taste.

You're making your way back toward the entrance together when a woman runs up behind you, calling out, "Wait, hang on!" You both turn, confusion in your expressions as she reaches you and holds out something in her hand - your phone.

"I think you or your dad left this behind, sweetie," she says with a smile and places it in your grasp, "Gotta be careful!"

"Th-thank you," you manage to stutter out, eyes wide as she nods and turns away from you to head back toward the pool.

You stand there dumbstruck for a moment, thoughts muddled.

You or your dad.

Your dad.

You turn to Joel then. He's looking at you with what you can only describe as apprehension, lips downturned into a frown as he stands and waits for you to say something - anything. You stare back, words failing you.

And then you burst out laughing.

His apprehension turns into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs along with you and squeezes your hand in his tightly - as if to say, this isn't wrong, what we have isn't wrong and you know that. And you do, which is why he has to practically drag you back inside the hotel as you double over and heave out laugh after laugh, tears in your eyes.

"Silly girl," you hear him mumble under his breath fondly as he leads you to the elevator, and all you can do is keep giggling.

"I love your cock."

Your knees dig into the plush rug of the hotel room, ass sitting atop the balls of your feet as you kneel between Joel's wide legs. He's sitting comfortably on the couch, one hand resting to the side while the other strokes circles into the apple of your cheek. His cock is out of his swim trunks, heavy and hard in your palm as you slowly stroke him up and down, up and down, heart pounding in your chest.

You've done this to him before, you remind yourself, and he said it was good.

But not like this, another part of you argues, not properly.

"Yeah, you love it?" he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts. With his words his hand drops from your face and joins yours on his shaft, helps direct it toward your cheek so he can press the tip ever so gently against it, "What d'you love about it, baby? Tell me. Wanna know."

"It's so big, Joel," you practically whimper, brows furrowing together at the sensation of his warm stickiness on your face, "So big and so thick and long."

"I know, baby," he coos softly, smearing it along your jaw in a way that has goosebumps rising all over your flesh, "Bigger than your pretty face, huh?" At his words he delicately lays the length of his cock against your face from base to tip, lets it rest there as you close your eyes and try to calm your breathing. You're so fucking turned on.

"Big," you repeat, as if no other words can find their way to your brain, as if your brain doesn't even exist; all that exists is this. The feeling of his warm dick laying heavy across your face, precum leaking out onto your forehead.

"And what's it taste like, babygirl?" He's suddenly moving it downward, towards your mouth, and you happily lean forward to lap at the tip. It pulses against you, leaks onto the pink softness of your tongue. "Tell me what it tastes like."

"Kinda salty," you whisper, peering up at him with big eyes, "But good, it still tastes good to me." Your nose scrunches and you peer up at him sheepishly, "Tasha said it's not supposed to."

He laughs breathlessly, taps the tip against your bottom lip, and when more precum dribbles out you allow it to drip into your mouth. You swallow, eyes never leaving his, then swirl your tongue all around the head before slowly taking it into your mouth and suctioning carefully.

"God, you make me fuckin' crazy," his voice rumbles in his chest, eyes hooded, "Look at you suckin' on my cock." After a few seconds he pulls it out and taps your lips with it again, hissing a bit through his teeth, "Fuck, this mouth. And those eyes," his head leans back against the couch and he groans, low and deep, "You gotta stop lookin' at me like that, angel. M'not gonna last."

"How am I looking at you?" you ask shyly, a smile playing at your lips.

"Like... you're just so new to everything."

"But I am," you say with a breathless giggle, "It is new to me."

He smiles fondly down at you on your knees in front of him, so vulnerable, "I know," he tells you, "It makes me want you so bad."

"You have me," you whisper, leaning forward to mouth at the head of his cock once again, "M'yours, Joel."

His lids go heavy as you suckle gently on the tip again, reveling in the masculine taste of him and the way you can feel his heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. You suck it the same way you did last time - like a sucker or a popsicle - and you hope it feels good to him, hope you're doing it right.

"That's so good, baby," he murmurs, and you whimper at his praise.

You pop him out of your mouth and take a deep breath, peering up at him curiously, "Can...can you..."

His brow furrows, "Can I what, angel?"

"Can you show me how to... how to take all of it? Like, how to put it in my throat?"

The expression on his face is hard to describe, a mix of disbelief and untamed arousal. His mouth opens to speak but he doesn't say anything, taking a few seconds to formulate a response before clearing his throat and giving you a weak - and slightly wrecked - smile.

"Y'sure you wanna try that?" he asks you, ever the gentleman, "That's....it's a lot to take in your throat, babygirl."

"I know," you breathe, sincerity in your eyes, "But I wanna try."

He reaches down and thumbs a stray hair from your face, pushes it behind your ear, "You're probably gonna gag," he murmurs gently - a warning. "It might be uncomfortable for you."

You raise an eyebrow, "So... you don't want me to?"

He laughs breathlessly, "I... I didn't say I don't want it. But I don't want you to try something you don't feel ready for," he frowns, "Don't want you to feel any pressure with me."

"I don't," you admit honestly, "I don't feel any pressure, Joel, I promise. I just...really wanna try it. I want you to show me."

He takes a deep breath, strokes your cheek gently and then reaches down to hold the base of his cock again. Your hands fall to his thighs, still clad in his swim trunks.

"Lemme just see how far you can go without gaggin' first," he tells you softly, patiently, "Want you to stop when you feel it in that spot, okay? Don't go any further than that."

You nod, already beyond excited that you're learning something new, something that'll make him feel good. You open your mouth to take him back inside but he touches your face again, stopping you.

"Deep breath," he advises quietly. You do as you're told.

He helps guide the fat head of his cock past your lips, watches as you very slowly ease yourself down. You close your eyes, all your focus centered on this singular task, fighting to push past the slight discomfort of having your mouth stuffed so full. It takes barely a moment for you to reach the point he was talking about, when you feel the head of his cock brush ever so slightly against your gag reflex. On instinct, your eyes snap open, your entire body freezing in place.

"Right there?" he asks quietly, but you know he's not waiting for an answer, knows you couldn't talk even if you wanted to, "That's so much baby, good girl." His praise send throbs of pleasure to your pussy, warmth to your cheeks. Your eyes meet his and you can see how turned on he is, see the way the corners of his mouth twitch with pleasure. "Let go when you're ready, honey."

You hold yourself there for a few more seconds, eyes watering a little bit as you hold his gaze, just testing the power of your lungs and the strain of your jaw. When it becomes too much you pull your mouth off him and find yourself gasping for breath, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as drool spills down your chin.

"How was that?" he asks, thumbing your cheek again with one hand and stroking himself with the other, working your saliva up and down his length, "Uncomfortable?"

You shake your head, "It was good," you whisper, voice a bit crackly, "I wanna try and take more, can I?"

He nods, smiles encouragingly and taps his swollen cockhead against your bottom lip again, slow and tantalizing, "Course you can, babygirl," he murmurs, "Deep breath."

You inhale deeply again, gathering as much air into your lungs as possible before sinking your mouth down onto him and allowing his thick girth to fill you all over again. This time when you feel him reach that spot, you let yourself keep going just a little bit further, allow the head of his cock to push more firmly against it and slip the tiniest bit into the back of your throat.

You gag immediately.

It's very loud; a dry wretch that you can admit sounds absolutely horrific in the current circumstance. Before you can even really process what to do next, he's tugging you off his cock, voice suddenly worried, frantic, "Okay, no, that's too much," he says quickly, and you look up to see him shaking his head, "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"M'fine," you try to garble out, but you're shocked when just talking suddenly sends you into a coughing fit. You bang on your chest and squeeze his thigh with your other hand, feeling more drool cascade down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"Angel," he says soothingly, leaning forward to pat your back, brows furrowed again in concern, "I'm sorry, honey."

You shake your head, "I-I'm okay," you splutter out, "Just gimme a second."

"It's too much," he repeats, almost pleading, "Please, baby, I don't wanna see you struggle, that's not fun for me."

As much as you hate the idea of giving up, you have to admit that he's right. That wretch had not been pleasant, and while you think you could eventually learn to take all of him, maybe forcing yourself to do it when you're supposed to be having fun on vacation isn't the best time.

"Okay," you mumble defeatedly, sitting back on your knees, "But I still wanna suck it."

He laughs again, relief flooding his features as he leans back on the couch and smiles crookedly at you, "You can still suck it, darlin'. Just take your time and don't push your limits, alright? Promise me."

"I promise."

You spend the next fifteen minutes or so playing with Joel's cock, stroking it with your hand, kitten licking along the shaft and head, just touching as much as you can without any time pressure for once. He pets your hair as he watches you, thumbs your cheeks and dimples, small groans tumbling past his lips, face scrunched in pleasure as you explore. You take as much of him as you can in your mouth, bob up and down slowly with your eyes trained on his face, feel the way his thick length twitches and pulses against your tongue.

It's almost feral the way you drink him down, hollowing your cheeks and basking in the way his body responds to you. You're so wet, aching to touch yourself but wanting this moment to be just for him, a thank you for this weekend, this hotel, for everything. Instead you palm his balls, roll them in your palm and revel in the desperate sounds he makes.

"I love your cock," you whine, repeating your earlier statement as you fist it up and down with spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, "I love it so much, Joel." You can feel yourself dripping in your bikini bottoms, feel your own slick gathering on your inner thighs.

"I know, baby," he gasps out, running one hand through his hair and the other through yours as his belly tenses and untenses, as his thighs tremble, "I know you love it, s'all yours, baby. S'your cock."

"My cock," you echo, almost a whimper, "Mine."

"Yours, it's yours," he moans loudly, hands curling into fists as his head hits the back of the couch, "Shit, I'm gonna come."

"Come in my mouth," you tell him immediately, wasting no time in sinking back down onto his length. He doesn't ask if you're sure; he's too far gone to be a gentleman anymore, and you love it. You watch as he suddenly sits up on the couch, reaches both hands forward and cradles your head in them firmly. He helps you move up and down, groaning as he does, and then-

His cock pulses on your tongue, thick and heavy, bobbing against the roof of your mouth. You feel a burst of cum hit the back of your throat, then another, and another, all the while Joel moans and holds your head in place, toes curling into the rug. Your eyes roll back as he fills your mouth, overwhelmed by the salty taste and thick texture, and - without really meaning to - you swallow around him to make more space. He practically whines at the sensation, pulsing once more to release one final burst of his spend.

And then he's falling back against the couch, cock popping out of your mouth, expression dazed. Without thinking about it you swallow the rest of his cum, eyelashes fluttering at the odd sensation of it all slipping down your throat. So much, gone in an instant. It's only then that you actually realize what you've done.

"I swallowed it," you say, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach, "Was I supposed to swallow it?"

He laughs softly, covers his mouth with the back of his hand, "It is perfectly fine that you swallowed it, darlin'," he smiles wide and opens his arms, "C'mere."

You clamor off your knees and crawl into his lap immediately, straddling his thighs and pressing your wet bikini bottoms against the slope of his belly. He lets out a little groan, pulls you in and strokes your hair.

"You did so good," he praises you softly, kisses your temple, "So good, baby. Made me come so much."

"There was a lot," you tell him, nuzzling into his neck and letting your breathing slowly even out, "S'why I swallowed it, I was trying to make room."

"Was it okay? It didn't make you gag, did it?"

You shake your head, a pout on your lips, "Felt good in my mouth," you whisper, "I liked it."

He hums, hands trailing from your hair to your bare back where he unclasps your bikini top and lets it cascade to the floor, then reaches down and tugs at your bottoms. You lift up carefully, let him slip them down your thighs and watches as you kick them off, leaving you fully naked in his lap.

"So pretty when you're bare like this," he whispers, and it sends more slick to your folds, oozing down and making a mess on his tummy. He cups your pussy in one hand and slides two fingers easily inside of you, thumb rubbing circles against your clit. You grip his arm, eyes falling closed and pitiful little sounds slipping from your mouth. "My good girl deserves a reward for suckin' my cock so good, swallowin' all that cum, don't you think?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and letting him fuck you with his digits, eyes rolling behind your lids.

"Yeah, you do," he answers for you, "You deserve it, angel. Always."

He makes you come easily, leaving you a messy, twitching heap in his lap as your arms wrap around his neck, body going lax and loose. After a few moments he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, helps you into the shower, smiles when you peer blearily up at him through your afterglow.

"Just close your eyes and lean against me," he tells you softly as the water falls, removing his swim trunks and getting in to stand behind you, "I'll get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

You nap after your shower, exhausted and sated in every possible way. Joel wakes you up around two o'clock with more room service - sandwiches and soup that you devour with bright eyes and light conversation side by side in bed. It's domestic bliss the way he thumbs mustard from your lips, pours you more water, slices your key lime pie and feeds it to you with a fond smile.

I love you I love you I love you.

"Would it absolutely ruin this moment if I suggested tryin' our hand at a hymn?" he asks when you've both finished, wiping the crumbs on his fingers with a napkin and gesturing to his guitar case in the corner of the room.

You grimace, "I guess not."

"I'm just thinkin' about your parents," he places his hand on your hip - clad in another one of his shirts - and gives you a sympathetic smile, "It's probably best to pick somethin' and have it ready."

You nod. You know he's right, that your lack of preparedness these past few weeks has been pretty reckless considering it's been the entire "reason" you've been seeing him. With a sigh you slip out from under the covers and traipse over to the couch, listening as Joel unclasps the guitar case.

"I did some research," he tells you as he walks over, hooking the strap over his shoulders as he goes, "I think our best bet for an easy tune is How Great Thou Art. Pretty repetitive chord progression, only uses G, C, and D."

You make a face, crossing your arms, "I can't believe I have to do this."

He laughs, "It was either that or Come Ye Sinners, and I think that one's a little too on the nose, don't you think?" He tosses you a smile and you can't help but return it, feeling your frustration melt away under his gaze.

"Can we do that thing again where I get a reward?" you ask shyly, biting your lip. His eyebrows go up, a smirk lighting his face.

"Hmm, I think that's doable," he sits down beside you, tuning the guitar, "What'd you have in mind?" You notice the way his eyes dart toward your groin and your cheeks warm.

"I was actually thinking that maybe..." your hands play with the hem of his shirt nervously, unsure what he'll say, "maybe you could play something for me? You said last night that you've written some songs," you shrug, trying to be nonchalant, "I'd... I'd really like to hear one, if you wouldn't mind."

He peers at you for a few seconds, smirk fading briefly only to be replaced with a tender smile, eyes softening as he gazes at you. Warmth blooms in your chest. You never want him to stop looking at you like that.

"I can do that," he tells you quietly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "I mean... I can't promise it'll be good, but-"

"I don't care."

He chuckles and nods, grips the guitar again and clears his throat, "Well, alright then. Let's get started."

For the first time ever, the lesson is actually a lesson. No undercurrent of sex, no inappropriate touching or sensual glances, no teasing or filthy words. You're not sure how you're able to hold yourself back so easily, able to really focus on what Joel is saying and showing you, helping place your fingers in the right locations and teach you the strumming techniques. Maybe it's because you're tired - you did come three times already today - but it's not just that.

It just feels so... normal. So easy. You think back to that first lesson, the nervousness you'd felt and the pounding of your heart in your chest, the anticipation and the fear.

It's different now. Now that he's been inside you, become one with you, it's like your whole dynamic has changed - for the better. Of course you still feel that curious nervousness, the innocence, the electricity between you. But there's something so solid and tangible about it now, something certain. Something real.

He shapes your fingers along the neck of the guitar, praising you softly every time you play a note that sounds right, encouraging you as you repeat the G chord a few times, then C, then D. You strum along slowly, taking your time, and before you know it you're playing something that actually doesn't sound half bad.

"We definitely need to work on buildin' up those calluses," he murmurs, stroking the tips of your fingers under his thumb, "Well... If you're gonna do this long-term, I mean."

You peer at him curiously, tilting your head to the side. He looks sheepish, like he's said something he hadn't meant to.

"You think I could do this, like... for real? As a hobby?"

His mouth turns up at the corners and he nods, "I think you can do anything you set your mind to, darlin'."

Your heart is suddenly in your throat at his words, emotion bubbling under the surface of your skin. You drop your hand from the guitar and reach up to cup his face, pulling him toward you to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kisses you back just as soft, just as careful.

"Thank you," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "Thank you for saying that."

He presses his forehead to yours, shakes his head ever so slightly, "Don't gotta thank me for sayin' what's true, angel. You deserve to hear it every single day."

You finish the lesson with tears still welling in your eyes, a lump in your throat. When you lean the guitar against the side of the couch he cradles your face in his hands and gently kisses the tears away, brushes his lips along your eyelids and cheeks, your jaw and your lips, saying everything without saying anything at all.

"Okay," you sigh, taking a deep breath and opening your eyes to smile sweetly at him, "Time for my reward."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes a little, reaching for the guitar and beginning to tune it again. You watch as he twists the keys, strums a little here and there, hums softly for each note to match his voice. Anticipation rises in your chest.

"Now, uh," he clears his throat a bit, avoiding eye contact, "It's been a while since I played this one but it's, uh," he takes a breath, "It's one I wrote when Sarah was born. Used to sing it to her to help her fall asleep."

You melt at the words, smiling wider, "What's it called?"

He finally meets your eyesight, lips pressing together sheepishly, "Sarah."

Oh, duh. You nod in encouragement, leaning back against the armrest of the couch and waiting for him to begin. He takes another deep breath, dropping his gaze to watch his fingers shape the first chord. It's then that you notice his hands - usually deft and steady - are trembling a little bit, so much so that he has to readjust his position on the strings a few times.

He's nervous.

He stares at his hand, takes another deep breath.

You wait.

"Sorry," he mumbles under his breath, "Sorry, just gimme a minute."

"It's okay, take your time." Your voice is barely a whisper, awestruck by the sudden vulnerability you're witnessing. He'd agreed to the reward so quickly, you'd been sure he didn't mind. But now as you sit here waiting, you're not so sure. You watch him take more deep breaths, watch as he closes his eyes and seems to center himself.

"If you don't want to-"

"I want to," he says immediately, shaking his head, "I want to, I've just... I haven't sung in a while."

Your brow furrows, confused, "You sang yesterday in the car, didn't you? And you sang Tangled Up In Blue when we first met, and that other one, the one from the eighties."

His lips turn up at the corners, a welcome smile, "Take On Me."

"Yeah, that one."

He sighs, tightening his grip on the guitar, "It's not that I haven't sung I guess. Wrong wordin'," he bites his lip, "It's moreso that I haven't sung this one. Or any of my originals. Not for a long time."

You frown, "How come?"

"I guess... I just..." he searches for the words, staring at the floor, "No one's really asked me to. And it's not like I'm playin' gigs or tourin' or any of that pipe dream stuff I thought about when I was a kid." He laughs humorlessly, like the concept is ridiculous, "So I guess I just kinda... stopped, after a while."

You feel a sudden sadness that you can't really explain, picturing that bright-eyed little version of Joel, stuck in a household that wouldn't let him grow, wouldn't let him be himself. All those dreams and big ideas, dashed before he was able to get out and make his mark. Life getting busy, too busy, other responsibilities taking up all his time until the thing he loved most became nothing but a memory. A pipe dream.

It makes your heart ache.

"D'you mind if I just..." he meets your gaze again finally, eyes soft and a little sad, "Could I maybe just hum it? Instead? I know that's kind of a cop-out, but-"

"Of course you can," you breathe out, hand coming down to rest atop his knee, "Of course you can hum it."

"I'm sorry, baby, I know you wanted -"

"It's hard being vulnerable, Joel," you interrupt him again, shaking your head and stroking your thumb against his skin, "God knows it's been hard for me, and you've been nothing but patient." You give him a watery smile and he returns it, "Please take your time. I can be patient too, I promise."

You can tell how much he appreciates it. He reaches down and picks up your hand, presses a gentle kiss to the back of it before setting it back down and taking one last deep breath.

"Well, here it is," he says with a little more confidence, a smile playing at his lips.

You've heard him play before, obviously; you've already seen the way his fingers work the strings like it's just second nature, the way his thumb strums out the chords effortlessly. But this time is different. Knowing what he's playing is completely original, born from his own creativity out of love and devotion, a father's affection and protectiveness, it just sounds special. New. He begins to pluck out a soft, slow, soothing melody that immediately puts you at ease, makes you lean back further against the couch and loosen your body. It's tender, quiet - a lullaby.

He hums softly, voice crackling a bit in his throat at first but then settling into a smooth and comforting sound. It's almost like a waltz, the way the chords change back and forth, in and out, slow and steady. Of course you wonder what the real words are, what his quiet hums are substituting, but you find that it doesn't really matter. What matters is the look on his face, eyes distant, as if he's picturing his daughter as she was when she was little. You try to picture it too, thinking of the photograph in his house, the one of him pushing Sarah on the swing. Just a father and his little girl, against the world.

It isn't a very long song. It fades out relatively quickly, and as soon as he strums out the final chord you sit up on the couch and clap ferociously, tears stinging in your eyes all over again.

"I'd usually, uh, play it a couple times for her," he says awkwardly, "'Til she fell asleep."

"It was beautiful," you tell him earnestly, "It was so beautiful, Joel."

He shakes his head with an embarrassed laugh and swivels around to go place his guitar back in its case. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. You know how he feels when you spot the tips of ears, tinged pink, warm from your praise.

The rest of the day passes in what feels like a warm, luxurious, passionate blur. You go to dinner that evening and order lobster, revel in the way it practically melts in your mouth with sips of champagne and bites of blueberry cheesecake. Joel tells you a little more about his life, tells you everything you want to know about his daughter and his ex. It's not a difficult or uncomfortable conversation like you'd been worried it might be. Instead, you feel closer learning these things about him, feel even more connected to him than you did before as he tells you about Mish and Sarah, their relationship, the arrangement.

"I think I understand it better now," you tell him thoughtfully, "Now that I've actually..." you peer at him shyly, "You know... done it."

He chuckles, "Sex is a powerful thing, it really is. And when you find someone you're compatible with it can be really easy to keep goin' back to 'em. Settle into it, you know? Even if the other parts of your relationship don't work."

"It's like...friends with benefits, right?"

"Exactly. And it really does work for some people, worked for Mish and I for a long time," he shakes his head and reaches across the table to take your hand, "But that's over now, I need you to know that. It's over. You're the only woman in my life and that's how I want it to be. You believe me right?"

His eyes are soft, warm, loving, sincerity practically glowing in his expression.

"I believe you, Joel. Of course I believe you."

You have sex again when you get back to the room, slow and intimate and tender and perfect. You claw at his back as whimpers and cries tear from your mouth, writhing in pleasure beneath him on the bed as he fills you over and over, murmurs filth in your ear and presses down on your clit with his thumb. It's like you've died and gone to heaven, this feeling of permanent bliss and satisfaction, the sensation of being so full and so connected. It's the closest you've ever felt to real inner peace; who would have thought that sitting on a cock instead of in a church pew would be the thing to bring you closer to godliness?

I pray at the church of Joel Miller, you think to yourself as you recover from your fifth orgasm of the day, laying there with fluttering lashes and heaving belly, mind foggy and eyes bleary. Joel is kissing your thighs somewhere below, whispering praises, humming against your skin as he wipes a warm cloth over your twitching pussy.

"I keep thinking about how many sins I've committed in the last twenty four hours," you mumble to him, sleep quickly making its way into your psyche, "And then I remember that I don't care."

His laugh is the last thing you hear before you drift off.

Sunday morning is bittersweet. You spend most of it wrapped in Joel's embrace, tracing the freckles and scars on his skin, drifting in and out of consciousness while he peppers kisses all over your face and neck. You have to leave the hotel by noon, get back on the road again and head back home, but the bed is so warm. He's so warm. Everything is warm.

"You never fucked me in the shower," you whisper to him softly, so quiet you wonder if he can even hear you, "Or on the floor."

"I still can," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep, fingers trailing delicately through your hair, "We have a little time."

You nuzzle into his warmth and close your eyes, sighing contentedly, "No," you breathe, "I just want you to hold me."

So he does.

The drive home is quieter, but not in a bad way. You're still tired from your escapades and find yourself dozing every so often, vaguely aware of Joel turning down the volume or switching the song to something more chill when he notices you starting to drift. His hand is ever-present on your thigh, stroking the skin over and over like it's just habit at this point. You know you should be forcing yourself to stay awake, to enjoy these last few hours before life goes back to normal, but he really did a number on you.

It's only when you stop at a gas station - the same one where you first saw the playlist you weren't sure you were meant to - that you finally start to feel more awake.

"So tell me about this Angel playlist," you say with a smirk, waving his phone at him as he gets back in the truck, "Can we listen to it?"

A look of surprise crosses his face, but he doesn't seem upset, "How did you even find out about that?"

"I'm in control of the music, remember? It's your spotify."

He groans, cheeks flushing as he pushes on the gas and pulls out of the station, avoiding eye contact. "You were not supposed to see that."

Intrigue floods your brain, fuels your grin, "So it's for me?"

He takes a moment to respond, thumb stroking the wheel as he eyes the road, lip between his teeth. You can tell he's debating whether or not he should answer you, but his silence says everything. Impatient, you practically bounce in your seat, "Can we listen to it? Pretty please?"

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Who is this girl sittin' in the front seat of my truck?" He squeezes your thigh, "You're gettin' bold, darlin'. I like it."

"Enough to let me listen to the playlist?"

He sighs, but you know he's not mad, can see the smile tugging at his lips, "...Maybe. At least enough to listen to one song. Will that tide you over?"

"Yes, it most certainly will," you're already tapping Angel, eyes alight with curiosity, "Which song?"

"Northern Sky by Nick Drake, should be the first one there."

You turn to him with a raised brow, "How do you know that's the first song?"

"'Cause I made the damn playlist."

"And you listen to it a lot?"

He laughs again, eyes rolling fondly as he turns his attention back to the road and grins at your words, "You're somethin' else."

You've still got a shit eating grin on your face as the song starts, the soft strumming of guitar filling the small space. Oh, this is pretty. You playfully nod your head to the chords and he rolls his eyes again, strokes your thigh and keeps his attention focused on the road.

And then the lyrics start.

I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky

Your grin fades almost immediately, realization blooming on your face as the reality of what this playlist actually is begins to dawn on you. You'd thought maybe it was songs he wanted to share with you, songs he wanted to teach you how to play. Just random tunes that he compiled together with you in mind.

No, that's not what this is at all. As the lyrics continue, the melody growing more steady, more beautiful, you realize that these are songs that remind him of you. An entire playlist dedicated to the way he feels.

You stare at the road as the song plays out, not speaking. Your eyes are stinging with tears but you can't bring yourself to say anything, to even look at him. You feel him squeeze your thigh again, a comforting and reassuring little gesture. As if to say, l know, I'm here. As the final chords fade out you frantically reach for his phone and press pause, out of respect for his privacy but also because you're completely unprepared to hear another song like that. You catch him peering at you in your periphery, and you will yourself to look at him with watery eyes.

"Satisfied?" he asks softly, giving you that gorgeous crooked smile.

All you can choke out is a "Yeah."

Arriving back at the parking garage hurts. Joel pulls his truck in beside your car, still in the same spot you'd left it, and takes the key out of the ignition with a long sigh. You look over at him, emotion burning in your throat.

"I don't wanna go home," you whisper.

"Oh, babygirl," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "C'mere." He holds his arms open and you clamor over the center console to settle into his lap, burying your face in his neck. He holds you tight and rubs your back, hushes you softly when you start to cry. How is this weekend already over? How are things just supposed to go back to normal now?

"I don't want you to go back there either," he breathes, "If I had it my way you'd be comin' home with me." You feel him press a kiss to the spot just beneath your ear, "But you're strong. You're stronger than you think you are and I know you can get through this. Whatever they have to say, whatever they do, you'll get through it. We'll get through it together."

You don't say anything else, just melt into the warmth of his body and let him hold you, comfort you, until your cries and hiccups fade into even breaths. You pull back slowly and peer at his beautiful face, long to say the words you've been holding back all weekend - but you know there's a reason you've been holding back, know this isn't the right time, not yet.

Instead, you kiss him. It's soft and sweet, a tender goodbye. Temporary, fleeting. You know it's not forever, know you'll probably sneak over tomorrow night to see him again under cover of darkness, find yourself in his bed, get wrapped up in him. But it's a goodbye nonetheless. A goodbye to this - the simplicity, the sense of normalcy and lack of time constraints, the domestic bliss and the thrill of the escape. A goodbye to the bliss.

Driving away from him a few minutes later, watching his truck fade into the distance in your rearview mirror - you think it might be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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