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Pride Art, Day 21: Out of Focus + Stereotype
MarkBop is a stereotypical Bro-Gay and Chase is a stereotypical Party-Gay
#cw: eye strain#chase brody#mark bop#bopiplier#bro average#septic egos#iplier egos#markiplier tv#bro average au#brobop#pride#bisexual#bisexual pride#pride art#pride month#LGBTQ+#lgbt pride month#chase#bop#eye strain#arts#digital art#DancingHeartPrideArt2023#My2023ArtRenaissance
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AAAA Why did I never see this before?????
Listen okay, au for @therealjacksepticeyeâs Chase gets kicked out of his house and he rooms with @markiplierâs Markibop and it becomes a sitcom where they get on each others nerves and it gets cuddly and sweet and also Bop cant talk out of his singing persona, Chase is the only one who can understand him
Oh also Each day Chase has a shirt matching his horrible depressionâ
ïœĄïŸ *  .â Commissions âïŸ. *  ïœĄïŸ
#mark bop#bop#bopiplier#chase brody#bro average#markiplier tv#brobop#i forgot to reblog this when it was relivant#but actually#I didnât know#fanart reblog#baolizhu-blog
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I want to write Amber outside of any angry black girl stereotypes and write her more in depth because sheâs much more than a reactionary emotion.
Amber is smart and she's dealing with a lot. Ok work from there, Amber is at a great point in life as a young black woman where âok everything ive done has cultivated to this much. Playtime is over time to get serious. Wait did even get to play during play time? Focus! They all look like they know something you donât so you need to know more. You need to know everything! Before it happens! So it doesnât happen again! Did I eat today?â
I want to see Amber burying herself in her studies and taking the opportunities allowed to her in that big ass white school.
I want to see her parallel Mark (whose she's still with in my au i do not care) where heâs getting beaten down by an enemy and Amber is getting covered in assignments and they both get back up because that's real hot girl shit
#amber bennett#invincible#invincible season 3#Mark x Amber#Mark Grayson#they deserve a cute ship name#invincible hire me I can write#who makes their comics I could publish something too let me in the door#real hot girl shit is getting Zazie as a voice on your show and NOT fumbling her lol yâall donât know what to do with a bad bitch I swear#Mark getting the black girlfriend effect glow up with his outfits#instead of immediately aging to like 35 with a kid and a divorce on his back like he looks now#Megan thee stallion wouldâve given us a bop for this show if they stayed together oop we couldâve had an invincible ost oop#now all the background music sounds like I got accepted to devry lol alverno college beats#it me#also can yâall get out of this tag đ€Łđ€Ł thereâs so many posts that just tag Amber and say nothing about her stop clogging it
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you can be anything â„*âĄâ:ïœĄ.ïœĄ
#nctinc#kpopco#nct dream#mark#renjun#jeno#haechan#jaemin#chenle#jisung#vicsedits#7dream#i made jisung allen for comedic purposes. but he can be a barbie too đđ#any 90s babies remember what the barbie slogan was as a kid? i swear it used to be 'be who you want to be'#icb its their 7th anniversary. i forget they debuted so young D:#i mean they seem to have grown up relatively fine so >.<#i hope they continue to grow up well and healthy <3#and keep putting out bops!!! and continue to grow musically and wtv#i just need them to continue with the consistent pop tracks đ they never disappoint đđ
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đčđ»đčđ»đčđ»đčđ»đčđ»
âIs it really bad?â Jamie asks after a minute or an hour or a year, when the sticky gross crying feeling had dried up. Royâs hand rests warm and comforting on the back of his neck where his headâs smushed sideways against his collarbone.
âIs what bad?â Roy asks, voice rumbling through his chest where theyâre pressed together, but thereâs a hitch to his voice like he already knows.
âWith dad,â Jamie says; feels Roy tense beneath him, and then he breathes out slow and deliberate, thumb stroking circles into his shoulder. âI werenât trying to be shitty with Ramona, dâyou know what I mean? Well, maybe a bit, with the shouting and that. Shouldnâtâve done it.â
âIt was fucking weird. Donât think Iâd ever heard you shout before that,â Roy says.
âBut the shit she was talking about. Thatâs not really...â He stops, the words catching in his throat.
Roy takes a deep breath. He doesnât answer for a long moment, arms squeezing tighter like heâs trying to fold Jamie into himself. âYou were abused, Jamie,â he says. âIf your dad, if anyone did what she was talking about to you, that was abuse.â
#fic: stand where the light hits hard#platonic cuddling#this has been happening a bit more recently so:#i am gently but firmly bopping everyone who tags my clearly marked platonic cuddling as romantic on the head with a newspaper#tw abuse#jamie tartt#roy kent#ted lasso#kvetch oc
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'It's been fun but now I've got to go
Life is way too short to take it slow
But before I go and hit the road
Tell me when, when can I see you again?'
#the start of a lifelong partnership perhaps...#WHEN CAN WE DO THIS AGAIN O-OH OH OH#'joined at the hip yeah your sidekick needs you'#this song is still a BOP#my art#mark iplier#ahwm#heist mark#heist!mark#a heist with markiplier#markiplier egos#markiplier cu
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barbara gordon in absolute power #1
bonus:
#not even gonna bother posting her bop page cause she's batgirl STILL in that title#and doing nothing ugh i miss the old bop so muchhhh#dan mora's babs is sooo good#he always draws her as an adult and that's the best#compared to where we were in rebirth???#miles better#barbara gordon#oracle#comic panels#dc comics#absolute power (2024)#issue 1#written by: mark waid#art by: dan mora#colours by: alejandro sanchez
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cyndi lauper, she bop |1984|
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GOT7 NANANA đ¶ lockscreens
đ made with love by @marktodef
đ like and/or reblog if you saved
#i need to remind everyone what a bop this was#mine#got7#im jaebeom#mark tuan#jackson wang#park jinyoung#choi youngjae#bambam#kim yugyeom#got7 lockscreen#got7 wallpaper#kpop wallpaper#kpop lockscreen#wallpaper#lockscreen
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August Art Prompts, Day 31: Water Park đŠ
At the water park with Chase and the kids + Mark! This is basically just a season-swap of THIS I did before⊠đ
OKAY, LAST DAY OF AUGUST! Finished this SUPER LATE as it is past midnight⊠đ
Iâm taking a short break after this, but Iâll be back soon with more miscellaneous art + Iâll be doing another daily drawing list for October this year! đ
#septic egos#iplier egos#chase brody#bro average#bopiplier#mark bop#brobop#bro average au#arts#digital art#4 or more characters#DancingAugustArt23#AugustArt#August#My2023ArtRenaissance#water park#kiddos#kid OCs#bop got#abs for days#no shirt no problem#septiplier#sptplr#cool kid!mark#chase#bop#sophie#grayson#i stayed up way too late to finish this#okay iâm going to bed
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From Bop, December 1999.
#bop magazine#1999#1990s#britney spears#joey mcintyre#mark mcgrath#justin timberlake#eyc#98 degrees#gwen stefani#aj mclean
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6 and 8 for kiwi?
6. a song lyric to describe their personal style: amakabogera - maymay estrada
lalakad na ala-beauty queen, awra ko will make you scream ganda kong nagniningning, lalo kang mapapatingin 'di ko na kailangan na magpaganda, dating ko pa lang, panalo na 'di ko need ng filters sa camera, naturang ganda'y ibandera (walk like a beauty queen, my aura will make you scream my shining beauty will really make you look i don't need to glam up, my presence is enough i don't need camera filters, i flaunt my natural beauty)
kiwi does not follow trends; trends follow them. they have confidence in spades, and that's even the wildest looks will look good on them. kiwi will wear anything as long as it isn't boring!
8. a song lyric that would make them feel Seen: cut to the feeling - carly rae jepsen
take me to emotion, i wanna go all the way show me devotion and take me all the way i wanna cut through the clouds, break the ceiling i wanna dance on the roof, you and me alone i wanna cut to the feeeling, whoa
the main downside of being kiwi is that their people never treat them seriously, and emotions are always so surface-level. kiwi doesn't want that! they want connection! someone to look past the glitz and glamor and see the person who'd stay up until 4am redoing their stitches because it didn't look right the first time!
#quick and dirty translation of amakabogera lmao#literally amakabogera = i'm a kabogera. kabogera meaning someone who leaves a mark ('kabog' is like 'boom' and it has roots in gay slang)#kabog can also be 'heartbeat' as in 'kabog ng puso' so there's this implication that the kabogera will make your heart race#anyway pls listen to this song haha it's a bop and a half#estrarii#mail's here#thank you!!!!#kiwi
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This gonna sound mean spirited, but I think Ice Spice really came up/caught virality during a time where there was minimal performance and not much going on, and not that her newish mean girl attitude has helped or anything, but once the real performers came back she really had no place amongst them so now sheâs being pushed into back.
#mine#and weâve been shown other artist who only make âbopsâ too and hers no longer meet the mark#75% of her likability was about how memable she was
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Max, watching you falling into the NCT Dream hole is so funny and I can't even believe they got you.
Oh yeah, the little giant nerd got me. He said "NASA" in that deep voice and I didn't even bother putting up a fight.
#i'm out if they release kidz bop music again#but i trust in mark lee to lead them somewhere i can follow
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thatâs the way road dogs do it || one
joel miller x f!reader



a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for betaâing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33
pairing: ex-boyfriendâs dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20âs, joel is 50âs], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlinâ, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soulâŠidfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [heâs also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesnât verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc itâs me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k
masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs!!
Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. Itâs always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and itâs on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Mondayâs nine am meeting.
You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing itâs an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you heâd send it to you before the end of the night.Â
Itâs when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your bossâ requests on paper when you hear it â a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey â that you thought youâd never hear again.Â
âThis seat taken?â
Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide youâre going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while heâs at it.Â
âWhatâs a pretty girl like you doinâ sittinâ in a place like this all by herself?âÂ
âIâm not alone. My friends are over there,â you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. âJust needed another drink,â you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad.Â
âWhy wonât you let me see your face, darlin?â he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you.Â
You snort. âWhy. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck â Mr. Miller?â Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence.Â
You finally turn your head so youâre face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend.Â
Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adamâs apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesnât have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover.Â
âDidnât realize it was you, darlinâ,â he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard.Â
You chuckle to yourself a little. âOf course you didnât. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?â you quip.Â
âYou look different,â he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it.Â
You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.
âGood. I mean â you look good,â he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it.Â
You tilt your head in a shrug, âI needed a change.â
After Joel Millerâs son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice.Â
You need something new, something fresh, babe.Â
It really does help.
Youâll feel like a whole new person.Â
Trust me, itâll be good for you.Â
You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the clichĂ© of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind.Â
And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your exâs father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself â no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didnât just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months.Â
His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. âQuite the change,â a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes.Â
You canât say the same for him.
You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, heâs somehow more handsome.Â
His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember.Â
Fuck.Â
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest. Â
 And oh.Â
Joelâs head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. Thatâs new.Â
When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. Thatâs also new. Your eyes donât miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring.Â
âI have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.
A muscle in Joelâs jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? Youâre not quite sure.
But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.
If youâre being honest, you didnât care. You didnât feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly werenât getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else.Â
You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Millerâs house â a fortnight before you broke up with his son â you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips. Â
You just werenât sure if he knew that you knew. Â
His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. âWhat happened between you two? He never talked about it,â he inquires.Â
You scoff. âHe gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.âÂ
Confusion floods his features.Â
Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. âYour divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.â
âThere was nothinâ to talk about. She left,â he quips.Â
âShe cheated on you,â you retort.Â
âHow didââÂ
âHe knew, and he watched when you didnât fight it. Think thatâs why he did the same to me.âÂ
âThat kid. Always fucking trouble,â he huffs, then takes a short sip.Â
 âHey, you raised him,â you joke.Â
âI didnât raise him to be a piece of shit,â he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and thereâs something behind them that you canât quite place yet.
âIâm not saying itâs your fault, I justâ" You sigh exasperatedly, âI think seeing how you didnât fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug.Â
Joelâs eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.Â
âWhat?â you ask.Â
 âNothin'âI didnât expect Iâd ever hear you say that.â
 You look at him pointedly.Â
 âGettinâ his dick wet,â he repeats. âIâm not used to hearing you say things like that sâall,â he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little.Â
You sigh. âTold you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.âÂ
âYou didnât deserve that darlinâ, Mâsorry,â he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch.Â
You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. âEverything happens for a reason, I guess.âÂ
His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. âYou really believe that?âÂ
You flash him a soft smile. Youâre not sure that you do, but selfishly, itâs easier than the truth, and whatever it was, youâre not concerned about it anymore. âItâs fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify.Â
His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. âHow many times, I gotta tell you, itâs Joel,â he insists.
Your eyes roll, âalright. Joel, itâs fine. Iâm much happier now.â
âOh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like itâll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering.Â
"Got yourself a new boyfriend?ââ He asks.Â
You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. âWhat makes you say that?âÂ
His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. âNothinâ, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.â
You chuckle. âI donât date, it's not worth my time anymore.â You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. Youâre trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but itâs so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joelâs gaze, isnât fucking helping. Itâs overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.
âThat so?â His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them.Â
You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. âAnd you?â Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.
His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.
His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. âNot in the cards for me, darlinâ,â his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.
âGuess we got one thing in common,â you sigh and mirror him.Â
His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times youâve had his attention; only now itâs worse because you can act on it. And maybe itâs the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe itâs some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe itâs just that â desire. Maybe itâs because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.
So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; youâve got nothing holding either of you back this time.
âYou want to get out of here?â Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again.Â
He chuckles darkly. âCanât leave my crew, sweetheart,â he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar.Â
You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. âArenât you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,â you tease.Â
He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. âCareful, kiddo,â voice a low warning, but thereâs a hint of playfulness behind it.
You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. âWell, thatâs too bad,â you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety â more enticing. âSheâs already wet.â
You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp.Â
Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and youâre biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom.Â
Within seconds, heâs on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.
And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. Itâs all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that heâs wanted this â wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning.Â
Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate.Â
The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined.Â
Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You donât even get halfway before heâs reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. ââS much as Iâd like that kiddo, I've been waitinâ too long to get inside this cunt,â he says bluntly, and then heâs taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. âIf mâgonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.âÂ
Your stomach flips at his words, and you canât deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and itâs what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.
Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. Youâre throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. âHow many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?âÂ
His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joelâs eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.
âIâI donâtââ you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words.Â
âHow many,â he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear.Â
âIâ I donât know. I canât remember,â you whisper.
Joel sniggers. âI figured. Sheâs just a little pocket pussy for us, ainât she?â A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, thatâll give him a reason to stop. When you donât, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And itâs not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so.Â
âThis all for me now?â He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him.Â
âWords, darlinâ,â his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness.Â
Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink. Â
He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "Sâthis what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.â
âI want you. Fuckâ I want you to fuck me, Joel.â You choke out.Â
âAttagirl,â he starts, knees cracking as he stands. âBend over ân let me see her up close this time,â he says with a smirk.Â
You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes donât find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joelâs movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joelâs too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddyâs girl.
You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And thenâ
âJesus,â he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. âPretty little thing, ainât ya?âÂ
And itâs almost like he canât believe heâs here â with you, thirty years his junior, and his sonâs ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.
The liquid courage mustâve kicked into overdrive because you donât know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his nameâ
âJoel.â
His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror.Â
âYou gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?â But the tone of your voice doesnât make it sound at all like a question, and you donât mean it to be.Â
That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. âFuckinâ Christ, I didnât think youâd be this filthy.â
His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn.Â
Joel doesnât waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you canât help but clench, and Joel definitely doesnât miss it.Â
He tuts. âNeedy little thing too,â he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. âTiny holeâs begging for me to fuck her, ainât she? Look at her flirtinâ with me,â Joel gloats.Â
And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesnât wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites.Â
âOh, Christ,â he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didnât get to look at it before, but you can feel him. Heâs big. Bigger than anything youâve ever had, and for a second youâre not quite sure heâll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means heâs a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.
He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and youâre gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it werenât for Joel fucking you, youâd be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. âFuck, thatâs good,â he breathes, ragged and hard.Â
And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him.Â
âDaddy,â pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto itâs head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.
He doesnât give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesnât matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. Heâs fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases.Â
âDirty fuckinâ girl,â he says, voice rough with arousal. âBeen dreaminâ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,â he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.
Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. âCaught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldnât get it out of my damn head. I thought about you nâ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckinâ short to cover anything.â Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. Itâs borderline pornographic.Â
His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. âSome nights I heard those sweet sounds you madeâfucked my fist then too. Were you fakinâ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakinâ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?â He rambles, grip smarting your flesh.Â
Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. Thatâs the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriendâs father fucking you wasnât going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will.Â
Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. Thereâs no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isnât a single thought inside your head. Itâs too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, heâs never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now heâs asking you if his son fucks as good as he does.Â
You donât answer. You canât. And heâs not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.
âYou donât gotta answer. I know he didnât. That boy didnât know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.â And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot.Â
âSâokay, you were made to take my cock,â he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. âMade to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?âÂ
âDaddyââ you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly.Â
âCourse it is,â he murmurs. âYou were made for me. So fuckinâ pretty nâ perfect nâ â fuck â so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.â He hisses in between sharp thrusts.
âN-â you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard.Â
He clicks his tongue. âYou donât like that, baby? You tellinâ me if I say it again, she wonât fuckinâ squeeze the hell outta me?â
Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.
âSâokay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cuntâs gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full oâme.âÂ
You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You canât help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought.Â
His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. âLook how fuckinâ sexy you look takinâ me,â he growls.
And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joelâs tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as youâre split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriendâs fatherâs cock.Â
Joelâs fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. âYouâve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, sâdamn shame my son didnât know what to do with it.âÂ
You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. Youâre blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.
âLook at you, wanted it so bad youâre fuckinâ droolinâ fâme, naughty girl,â he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. âWanted me to use you like this, huh?â
âMmm,â you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.
He tuts. âAww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you canât talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, sâthat it? Daddy, fuckinâ ya stupid?âÂ
"So â good â Daddy,â you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper.Â
âKeep doinâ that, doinâ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddyâs cock, câmon,â he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release.Â
âDaddy â oh fâ fuck,â your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and thereâs a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you.Â
"Yeah, thatâs it. Thatâs it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,â Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him.Â
As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until youâre on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you.Â
And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joelâs low rambles of obscenities â almost like heâs mumbling to himself â and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release â as if his life depends on coming inside you.Â
He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck thatâs it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.
His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls.Â
His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesnât pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what heâs looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip.Â
As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what heâs writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell heâs drawing on your skin.Â
You feel his body shift behind you again, but itâs not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror.Â
Joel Miller has his phone in his hands.Â
And heâs not just doing anything with it. Heâs not scrolling through it. Heâs not opening up the contacts app. Heâs not typing on it.
You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. Heâs taking pictures of you. But not just of you. Heâs taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock.Â
And for some reason â you donât move. You donât stop him. You donât turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.
But itâs the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you.Â
With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, sheâs so pretty like this.âÂ
Heat blooms in your chest. No oneâs ever made you feel like this. But thereâs no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy.Â
And then it hits you.Â
No oneâs ever made you feel like this. Thereâs a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. Youâve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When youâve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if youâve never had it to begin with?Â
Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so heâs filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.
You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joelâs mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowinâ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one.Â
It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didnât think thereâd be that much of it for a man his age.
When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it â of him. But itâs what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly.Â
You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters.Â
He quickly pockets his phone, and then heâs pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you â the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.
And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya.Â
His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he canât help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth.Â
Heâs always been rather soft with you, but itâs a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things â comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like itâs second nature to him. All of it was filthy. Heâs filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and thereâs no doubt about it in this moment.
You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joelâs lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what heâs reacting to.Â
His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth.Â
âAngel, my ass,â he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more.Â
He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. Itâs softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.
âKeep that in there, fâme,â he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. âWant you thinkinâ oâme when it drips outta ya tonight.âÂ
You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time.Â
Thereâs a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.
âWe oughta get back before people start looking for us,â he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. Youâre not sure youâll see him again. And you donât have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give.Â
You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges â one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: Heâll break your heart. They all do. But he canât hurt you if you donât let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.
He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. âYou okay?â he asks.Â
It shocks you. Itâs more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after heâd ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them â whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not â doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his sonâs attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you.Â
You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joelâs, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you donât let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joelâs teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.
You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. âPerfect.âÂ
He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. âYeah,â he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out.Â
You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isnât a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and youâre glad they donât.Â
Itâs not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonightâs actions sinking into you. Youâre about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you.Â
You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joelâs presence makes your chest tighten. You donât want to find out if heâll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.
Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You donât need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.
You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep whatâs left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting.Â
Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that youâre thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun.Â
Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number.Â
Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friendâs curious eyes, you click on the notification.
Heâd sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo.Â
Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines heâd written on your skin.
Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddyâs fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine.Â
Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass â black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images â at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong.Â
When you donât answer. The message bubble appears.
A beat, then two, and thenâ
Thereâs a place for you here.
You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you canât go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Donât wanna take work home.Â
She asks how youâll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that heâll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if youâre sure youâll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel.Â
Heâs already watching you.Â
Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass heâd been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid.Â
And thereâs no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash.Â
You flash Nell a smile. YeahâŠYouâll be fine.
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