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00kittenz · 2 months ago

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── “ just an extension cord. ” ( yjw ) 🎮

๑ When you can’t tell if Jungwon’s actually upset with you for ruining his livestream or.. nah, he’s grateful. At least you like to think so.

pair: gamer bf!jungwon ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, blowjobs and handjobs on stream, raw s.x (DONT TRY THIS AT HOME KIDS !!), clit tease, revenge, giggly jungwon, thigh riding, light degradation, oral (f. rec), quick humour, sudden phone calls ?? | words: 2.2k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“sunghoon ! god, you’re such a fucking dumbass.” the heated boy rolled his eyes, watching the ‘you lose’ sign appear on his screen. “good fucking game you ding dong.” he groaned loudly, frustrated to the core. everyone in jungwon’s stream knew him as a top tier player, losing made him feel like he let them all down, even though his fans would continue to cheer him on.

luv4evaaa: you got it next game jungwon, fighting !! ♡♡

takenbytheonenonlytoji: agh, how can someone still be so cute when they’re angry ㅠㅠ

jungwonsusedsock: he said ding dong !! HAJHJAHAHH (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

chewybiscuits: hoon and wonie give off such funny sibling vibes i love them sm.. *sigh..* (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

jungswrld: good game won !! you did your best that’s all that matters !!!

๑ ๑ ๑

his pupils scanned the screen giggling here and there from their remarks. even so, he still wanted to beat sunghoon’s ass for making him lose. “bro it wasn’t my fault ! we were surrounded !!” jungwon stared straight into the camera in disbelief, as if sunghoon could see. “since when was a 2v2 called being SURROUNDED ?” jungwon scoffed taking a sip from his sponsored energy drink. “ready up.”

๑ ๑ ๑

you could hear jungwon yelling and raging in the room down the hall of your shared one, spewing all types of curses and profanities. “such a baby..” you chuckled to yourself. you couldn’t lie, jungwon angry ? definitely had you on the sheets with your legs spread open. if you know you know. and this seems to be one of those situations, although, this time a little flick and rub won’t cut it. his fans knew he had a girlfriend, he introduced you anytime he got a chance. this time however, you wanted to avoid all of that and just get to business. now was the perfect time for that. it was dark meaning the only thing that was lit in his gaming room was his PC.

for some reason his door was open, which explained why you could hear him so clearly. you were supposed to be sneaking in, which meant it was time to go spy kids on his ass ! next thing you knew you were on all fours, like a kitten, crawling your way into his room slowly.. you knew he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but his stream would, so you had to stop every moment it’d go quiet. i guess we could say this mission was about 3 minutes long. anyway, you were under his desk which was all that mattered. you knew he had known you were under there, you’d accidentally bumped his foot trying to lower yourself down on your knees.

which took jungwon by surprise. he screamed, reacting hella dramatically. “what the fuck !” he snatched his headphones off his head pushing back from his desk to scan the area. “bro ? you good ? what’s up?” sunghoon checked on the yelping boy. once he’d seen it was you, holding up a finger to your lips indicating him to keep from telling them you’re currently in the room with him, he’d calmed down, a hand on his heaving chest.

no.1gojostan: ayo ? ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

iloveboobss69420: AHAHAA WTF ?! UHM ? YOU OKAY ?

lightyagamismom: i rebuke, in the name of heeseung’s booty hairs. ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ SAVE, HIM.

“naah, i’m good, just one of my extension cords grazed my leg. thought it was a spider or some shit.” jungwon quickly conjured up a lie, putting his headset back on. he wondered what you were doing down there, and the answer was nothing cause you were attempting to keep your laughter in. his eyes glanced at your sitting figure before looking back at the screen. reading, his eyes dashed through his comments.

“damn, it must’ve had you scared then, i promise you it’s just a cord. don’t need to keep checking kiddo.” sunghoon laughed through his mic.

“haha, funny.” jungwon ran around the map shooting sunghoon.

“stop it ! you’re such a dick !” sunghoon cried.

when you felt that the situation from before had calmed down, you started what you’d planned to do before even coming in this chatty room in the first place. your hands slid slowly against his calves, caressing them over the gray nike sweats he had on. jungwon wanted to look at you so bad, he really did. but to raise suspicion? he’d rather not. although he’d love to show everyone what he could do to you. he’d spare his little fans the sore sight.

continuing, you wrapped your arms around his waist with your head in his lap, hands caressing his lower backside. you could feel his growing bulge on your cheek, your lips coming down to kiss him over his clothed area. jungwon’s body had shivers, tensing up at the very feel of you, he’d gone completely mute from your touch. making him cough out of nervousness.

“jungwon, let’s go north, the leopard villa” sunghoon spun. he tried his best to keep his composure, thinking of ways to help the situation— ending his live abruptly? he would if he could. yet, it just wasn’t normal for him, he could stream for hours on end without any interruptions, his fans would worry if that happened.

“mmhm, good idea, for once..” he tempered a light groan.

while he spoke you’d been busy pulling his waistband down slightly enough for you to bring his shaft into view. the boy pursed his lips feeling your touch on his hard. your hands massaged him slowly, giving it a couple light strokes until it’s been replaced by your salivated mouth. you were limited to a slow pace, that was unless you wanted to be heard. starting off with the tip, your tongue slid across the red texture. you loved his tip the most when it came to his cock, for some reason it was the most satisfying part to mingle with, and it came with different amounts of surprises everytime you greeted it.

“fuck..” he muttered under his breath, he was battling with himself, it was like he was hit with this annoying need to lean back. your head bobbed up and down around his thickness, you were annoyed with the pace, so you quickened it juuuust a little bit, a gag was held at the back of your throat at he pushed on your tonsils.

his breathing was mid hoarse, but who could blame him. poor thing :((

chewybiscuits: urmmm.. is he okay ??.. *worry worry*

munch12340: hey bro ? you don’t sound too well..

catboyjungwon: wait, what happened ???

jungwon’s eyes immediately went to the chat. he felt his reactions weren’t concealed enough, scared that it might look too obvious what he’s currently up to. “hey chat.. i-.. yeah, i’m okay, my stomach just started paining.. badly..” his hand flew to your head as if he was touching his stomach. “damn it, i’m gonna end it here, i’m not.. feeling okay” he lied, sweat beading from his forehead.

“hoon, i’ll see you.. tomorrow? jungwon nation, goodnight ! rest well ! or good day, i dunno. bye !!” he rambled, mustering a quick bye to his friend and fans before quickly turning off his stream.

he immediately let out a moan of relief, “couldn’t have waited ? needy slut.” jungwon thrusted his hips into your mouth. this time, you were more than audible, he could feel the vibrations of your vocal before you pulled from him with a loud pop.

“are you mad at me ?,” you pouted at him teasily, your hands fondling his balls.

“tch.” jungwon scoffed, pulling you into his lap.

“so, no ?” you played with his hair, riding his thighs slowly.

“so, no?” he playfully mocked you. he loved the way you looked getting off on him, he loved the sight of you in pleasure. your gentle moaning snatching him of his sanity.

he took your hips in his grasp heaving you over his length, jerking himself before closing the gap between the two of you, all he had to do was move your panties to the side since you were wearing one of his oversized t-shirts. both moaning in sync at the tight fit.

“so big.. so full...mmh..” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck.

his hands found the flesh of your ass, guiding it into movement after slapping it once, or twice. throwing his head back at the feel. “god.. that’s right squeeze this dick baby..” he let go, pulling your shirt from it’s hem, throwing it off of your pure body. as you found it in you to bounce at a quicker pace allowing him to see your bare tits move in following.

the feel of your clit rubbing against his lower brung your high closer and closer. “fuck, so good..” your voice shakes when you clench around him. he immediately captures your lips in his.

it was as if he hoped to taste your juices through your mouth. the moment your high hit, so did his, you sat soaking his shaft— not to mention his clothes.

“you’re so fucking hot..” he panted against your mouth, picking you up and bringing you into the room next of yours before collapsing onto your figure when you’d settled back in bed.

“gonna fuck the shit out of this tight little cunt. ” he continued, “gonna fuck you so dumb.”

and he did just that, ruining you. he pumped his thick cock into your crying pussy like he depended on it. he wanted you to know you were his and his only.

“o-ahmm-,” you sighed, “jungwonnie.. so good, so good..” your left hand covered your eyes as the other went to play with your clit. the impact of his thrusting left you feeling numb.

“feels good, right ?” he chuckled at your pitiful state, he could feel you shaking beneath him.

“did i fuck this little cunt stupid ?” his body hovered over you slapping your thigh. “i did, didn’t i ?” he growls feeling himself throb inside you. your moaning and whining filled the room for a while, that was until you felt your high hit before you could even announce it.

“shit !..j-jungwon..” you panted heavily, grinding yourself on his paused figure. the pressure you had sitting on your clit drove you crazy.

jungwon pulled out, his length rubbed your folds. watching you squirm under him, he never understood the concept of shaking orgasms, but he liked to see it, he thought it looked the best on you.

“you’re so stinking cute, you know ?” his hands pleasured himself once he felt a knot flowing through his lower. coating your pretty, soaked, pussy in his pool of white.

“fuck..” he looked at you, seeing your furrowed brows looking at his phone that rang beside you. “who’s it ?” you picked it up feeling the weight of the bed shift as you read the caller ID.

“sunghoon ??” you spoke through a moan, his tongue dancing around your bud.

“answer it, princess” he says while going down on you.

“but he’ll-” he nibbled at the side of your folds.

“go on. put it on speaker.” and so you did, trying your best to keep the moaning to a minimum.

“sunghoon ?”

“y/n, hey how are you girl ! oh my gosh !”

you muster a laugh over the feeling you got between your legs. you knew sunghoon only did that high-pitched voice when you called. jungwon internally cringed..

“hi sunghoon ! what’s up?”

“not much, just checking on jungwon, he okay ? sounded like he was in pretty bad shape earlier.” he sounded genuinely concerned which made you feel a tad bit guilty— but not really.

“oh- he’s fine ..!”

now it was jungwon’s turn to take this time to put you in his shoes, he fastened the pace he put on your pussy, sucking, and kissing it’s clit before sliding his paired fingers in. he’s just getting his lick back, quite literally.

he watches you throw your hand over your mouth, arching your back at the feel of his fingers pushing into you.

“ah, good to hear then, i was thinking about coming over in a few, is that fine ? orr…”

it wouldn’t seem right if you said no, sunghoon was always welcome !

“i-.. sure, yeah ! mh.. you never have to ask.. you know that !” you felt your second high approaching, biting down on your lip to compress it..

“yeah well, i wouldn’t wanna disturb anything, i’ll be there soon, with takeout !”

“cool then ! call us when you arrive !”

“yeah, hopefully jungwon won’t be all up in your guts the next time i call, right ? ya’ll some freaks for real.”

he hung up after hearing you hum an awkward yes. you could hear jungwon laughing, retrieving his fingers from your wetness. “it’s not funny ! it’s not like you told me to stop when i went under your desk !” you whined.

“you didn’t tell me to stop either.” he looks at you with the most shit eating grin once he got closer to your face, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

“god you’re so embarrassing, and he’s coming over..” you’d rather hide in your closet until you could feel narnia arriving to snatch you from behind than see sunghoon face to face.

“it’s not that bad, at least he knows i treat you right !” he fails to make you feel any better, making you hit his chest, his laugh echoing through the room again.

“move you whore, i gotta pee.” you hear the doorbell ring, causing you to jump up and shriek. you quickly run into the bathroom closing it after yourself.

“i guess i’ll get it” the overall happy boy walks through the marbled floors.

once making it to the door, he’s met with sunghoon’s face, with some.. look ? plastered across it, whatever it was, jungwon bursted of laughter yet again.

i may or may not have got a teensy bit carried away w this one hehehe, also thnx sm for 130+ follows btww !! (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

#jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #enhypen smut #jungwon scenarios #yang jungwon smut #yang jungwon x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader

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arcaneauthor · 4 months ago

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Skz reacting to you kissing them in front of the other members

Warnings: um some kissing ig? Nothing else really

Tags: established relationships, kissing, so much fluff, seungmin being a little menace like always, I think that’s it

A/n: have this while you wait for my long hyunjin one shot! Also I just started writing skz and don’t fully know how to write their personalities yet so pls be kind🙏

────୨ৎ────

Chan:

I kinda feel like this would be a normal thing for y’all?

Like you would frequently come by the studio while skz is recording to visit him

And you’d always end up giving him a little hello and goodbye kiss

It was always just a peck but you’d think you two were full on groping each other by the way the members start gagging and groaning

They honestly should be used to it by now but they just can’t help but tease their dad leader

Mainly seungmin

“Ew you like kissing old men?”

But Chan’s used to it by now and just rolls his eyes and focuses back on his work

But he can’t hide the smile on his face

He kinda likes when the members tease him, it really makes them feel like family

Minho:

Would definitely turn it into a spectacle

Ik he doesn’t normally like skin ship from the other member that much so many people think he wouldn’t like pda from the reader but I think it’d be quite the opposite

Like I feel like he’d be the type that would grab you and pull you in closer when you try to just give him a peck in the dorm

Like we’re talking turning it into a full on make out session

And he’s fully aware the members are there, that’s partly why he does it

He thinks it’s kinda funny to get a reaction out of them

I feel like there’d be a mix array of both groaning an wolf whistling from the others

Either way he’d just throw a middle finger to the members over his shoulder as he smirks into the kiss

Changbin:

I actually kinda feel like changbin would be a little embarrassed

Like at first he’d kinda forget the other members are there and kinda get into it

And then when he’d hear the reaction from the members he’d pull away with a little blush on his cheeks

Would have that cute little embarrassed smile that he does as he lowers his head a little as he murmurs a “shut up” to the members

(If you’re a stay I feel like you definitely know which smile I’m talking about)

Would totally never admit to anybody that he was blushing

Like the other members maybe Chan would tease him like “aw binnies embarrassed”

And changbin being his loud self would be like “HUH? YOU THINK ID GET EMBARRASSED OVER SOMETHING LIKE THIS?”

Like my mind immediately went to that men in colorful pants vlive he did with Chan and Han when he was yelling at chan for calling him out on rapping his line too fast and he was like “YOU THINK I RAPPED FAST CAUSE I WAS NERVOUS?” Lol

Just imagine him saying it like that if you’ve seen that live

Jisung:

This man would be SHOOK

Like I’m talking about pulling away like he’s been BURNED

Quokka cheeks are flaming red

Why do I almost feel like this man would let out a surprised yelp as if you’ve just attacked him lmao

Looks between you and the members with wide eyes like “did that really just happen?”

unlike with the others I feel like the members wouldn’t make teasing comments towards you guys

They’d just be on the floor ROLLING at Han for getting so flustered

And even though you were the cause of it he’d still hide his face behind you to escape his embarrassment

Hyunjin:

Feel like he wouldn’t get too into the kiss knowing the others are there

But also would definitely lean into you a bit

For some reason I just feel like hyunjin would be an amazing kisser

I mean have you seen those luscious lips??

Anyways that’s a story for another fic lol I’m getting distracted

like Chan I’d feel like he’d get his sassy eye roll going on when the members made a comment

With how much it seems that hyunjin and seungmin play around with each other seungmin would definitely tease the shit out of him

And hyunjin would give him that signature bombastic side eye

I feel like seungmin would keep it going to the point of hyunjin just eventually standing up to literally pounce on him

Seungmin would just be laughing like a maniac the whole time

Felix:

I actually feel like Felix wouldn’t be as embarrassed as you’d think

Like Ik he’s a smol bean but down deep I feel like Felix is actually pretty confident

Not in a cocky way but like he’s sure of himself yk?

Like I feel like he’d just smile into it

Turns it into a bit of a longer but still soft and sweet kiss

Just completely ignoring the noises from the members in the background

Like I think he’d just be in his own little world with you

After y’all pull away he just pulls you to sit facing forward on his lap and hugs you from behind

Has THE brightest smile on his face as he does it

Seungmin:

I kinda feel like seungmin wouldn’t like you giving him pda

Not like to the point of getting angry or anything

But I kinda feel like he’d pull an “ew” face lol

(And I don’t mean this as being bad or anything, I myself don’t really love pda so I get it lol)

But you probably do it to just playfully annoy him

Which is why you’d probably be giggling with the members at him

“I hate you guys” but he’d say it with a smile on his face so you knew he wasn’t actually upset about it

He’d probably give you a long kiss later in his room to make up for it

Jeongin:

He wouldn’t go as far as to immediately yank away like jisung

But he’d definitely be a shy baby

Ik he looks all grown up and stuff these days but I feel like little baby bread is still under there somewhere lol

Like his eyes would widen mid kiss when he really processes that you’re kissing him in front of everyone

The members wouldn’t so much as tease him like with the others as they would moan and groan about seeing their little maknae doing “adult stuff” lol

Poor thing would definitely turn red, covering his face with his hands as he sunk down

Would honestly be wishing the couch would just swallow him up

Probably wouldn’t make eye contact with you for the rest of the night because he’d just start immediately blushing lol

Also would probably keep his distance cause anytime your hands so much as touched the members would tease him about y’all making sure you weren’t “moving too fast”

End notes: well I officially finished this at 5am lmao. Guess I better head to bed🫡

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pedrospatch · 1 year ago

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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creamflix · 18 days ago

Text

❤︎ — toji fushiguro likes it in pink !?

content warnings: established relationship, switch toji + dom reader, pegging, prostate stimulation, bondage, cuffing, squirting and handjob (m. receiving), mind-break, dumbification, begging, desperate toji <3

event masterlist ❤︎ general masterlist

“this yours, doll?” he asks, dangling the bright pink strap-on by it's harness with a smug grin.

“toji, i can exp—”

he cuts you off with a smirk. “i mean, it’s pretty cute. all pink ‘n everything. it’d look good in ya, honestly,” he drawls, clearly savoring every second of your flustered reaction.

“but it—” you start, trying to find some way to explain without losing your nerve.

“a strap-on, though?” he teases, a wicked glint in his eyes. “couldn’t ya have just bought a dildo or somethin’? or — wait.” he pauses, feigning an exaggerated realization. “or do you want me to wear this ‘n show you a good time?” he finishes with a grin, clearly enjoying the way you’re squirming.

you finally blurt, “toji, it’s for you!” the words rush out, and there’s a moment where you’re too mortified to even breathe.

he goes silent, brows shooting up as he blinks at you, genuinely caught off guard. then, suddenly, the silence is broken by his laughter — a low, rumbling sound that fills the room. he leans down, ruffling your hair and pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to your cheek, still chuckling. “yeah, real funny, doll,” he says, clearly amused as he pulls you against him.

“toji, i’m serious!”

“yeah, right. you think i’d let you pin me down with that?” he grins, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger. “well, sweetheart, keep dreamin.’ ‘cause if anyone’s gettin’ pinned down, it sure as hell ain’t me.”

he gives you a wink, still grinning as he leans down to your ear. “you got balls, sweetheart, i’ll give ya that.”

so how the hell did he get here?

toji's knuckles flex and tense against the restraints you’d set up, his wrists bound tight enough to press marks into his skin every time he jerks, testing their strength. he's sprawled across the bed, muscles tense under your control, face buried into the pillows in an attempt to hide the frustrated blush creeping up his neck.

“thought this was what you wanted, huh?” he sneers, twisting his head to glare at you from over his shoulder, his usual cocky smirk twisted with irritation. “just had to get me like this to feel on top for once?”

you smile, leaning over him, brushing your lips against his ear as you adjust your grip on his hips, keeping him in place. “oh, poor baby. acting like you're still in control when you're tied up, taking it so well.”

he lets out a low, frustrated growl, jerking his wrists again. “keep talkin’. won’t be so smug when these come off,” he mutters, his tone biting. “probably all you ever wanted, huh? you’re nothin’ without the straps ‘n ties. can’t handle me on your own, can ya?”

you respond by shifting your hips, sinking deeper, and his breath catches, muffled against the pillow. “not so tough now, are you?” you say, a smirk playing on your lips. “thought you’d be able to take it, big guy.”

his teeth grit as he tries to steady himself, voice lowering. “you keep callin’ the shots, but i’ll make ya regret it, sweetheart. get all cocky while you can, ‘cause when these come off, ’m gonna flip you over, make sure you remember who’s on top.”

his bravado falters as you give another thrust, and he lets out a stifled grunt, nails digging into his palms as he squirms beneath you. the bindings dig into his wrists, his breathing growing heavier with each second he can’t escape, his usual dominance cracking under your persistence.

“still acting like you’re the one in charge?” you tease, voice dripping with amusement. “face it, baby, you’re exactly where i want you.”

as you pick up a brutal, unforgiving pace, toji’s mouth spills a string of curses, rough and unrestrained, his voice edged with a desperation he’s fighting to hide. his body jerks with every thrust, and he’s straining against the bindings, wrists red and knuckles white, but there’s nowhere to go, no escape from the relentless rhythm you’re keeping him pinned under.

“fuckin’ hell — shit, what the —f-fuck are you even doin' back there?” he hisses, voice cracking as his body betrays him, hips trying to pull away only to rock right back up against you. “jesus… you’re a twisted little thing, aren’t ya? always got somethin’ to prove, huh?” he spits, but the breathy, wavering tone of his voice betrays him with each word.

you lean over him, pressing him down harder against the bed, keeping him in place as you drive into him. “oh, i know you’re loving this, toji,” you murmur, lips close to his ear. “look at you. practically begging for it.”

he lets out a strangled groan, his face burrowed into the pillow as he tries to muffle his noises. “begging? keep d-dreamin’. think you’re so goddamn clever, don’t ya?” his voice is rough, all sharp edges, but his resolve falters each time you thrust into him, and his cock bobs against his stomach, flushed and leaking. “shit, my dick’s about to fuckin’ burst and you — oh god — won’t even let me touch it, will ya?”

“not a chance,” you say, gripping his hips tight enough to leave marks. “you’re not touching a thing. i call the shots tonight.”

“f-fuck,” he snarls, trying to twist out of your grip, though his body still betrays him, every movement pulling him right back onto you. “shit, this is so messed up. look at you, so damn smug, thinkin’ you got me right where you want me—”

“oh, i know i do,” you reply smoothly, picking up the pace as his voice breaks into a series of grunts and choked moans, his control slipping further with each brutal thrust. “so how does it feel, baby? to not be in control for once?”

“fuck off,” he snaps, trying to keep his edge, but his voice is thick with need. “goddamn it, if you don’t… mmgh—” he cuts himself off, chest heaving as he lets out another frustrated curse, the lewd slap of skin mingling with his breathy groans. “you think this is funny? gettin’ off on watchin’ me like this?”

“oh, absolutely,” you say with a grin, enjoying every second. “i mean, you’re practically drooling into the pillow, baby. so much for the big, tough guy act.”

“sh-shut up,” he spits out, but there’s barely any fire left in his voice. his breath hitches, hips jerking against the bed as he lets out a strangled groan. “goddamn it — shit, if you don’t stop i’m gonna—” he’s almost incoherent now, body trembling as he fights to keep any scrap of composure, but it’s clear he’s too far gone, every word slipping into a mess of curses and desperate, shameless noises he can’t hold back anymore.

“what was that? i couldn’t hear you over all the cussing.” you drive into him harder, and his voice breaks entirely, a low, strangled noise spilling from his lips as he finally surrenders, body trembling, buried deep in the helpless pleasure he’s trying so hard to deny.

toji’s resolve is hanging by a thread, and he’s practically a mess beneath you now, hips jerking with every thrust as his control crumbles. his face is flushed, beads of sweat dotting his brow, and his cock is rock-hard against his stomach, smearing precum over his abs with each brutal thrust you drive into him. his breathing is erratic, a mix of strangled moans and desperate curses, and he’s practically trembling from head to toe, his brain a haze of conflicting desires he’s barely able to fight anymore.

“fuck, c’mon, just—” his voice breaks, sounding wrecked as he twists his head back to look at you, eyes hazy with frustration and need. “just lemme… lemme get my hands free, yeah? swear i’ll make it worth your while, doll.”

“oh, now you’re bargaining?” you smirk, running a teasing hand along his spine, and he lets out a strained groan, fists clenching hard against the bindings.

“goddamn right i am,” he pants, voice tinged with a desperate edge as he squirms under you, straining against the bindings. “i’ll… fuck, i’ll make you scream if you let me go. promise, i’ll make it good — better than whatever the hell you’re doin’ back there.” he manages a weak, cocky grin, though it falters as his body jerks under your relentless pace.

“pretty sure i’ve got you right where i want you, big guy,” you reply, grinding into him as you feel his whole body shudder beneath you.

“goddamn tease,” he snarls, voice cracking as he shifts, his abs clenching every time his cock brushes against his stomach, precum smearing over his muscles in sticky trails. “fuck — just… i’ll make you pay for this, you know that?” he hisses, though his tone is desperate now, wavering with each thrust that drives him closer to the edge he can’t seem to fight.

you lean over him, breath ghosting over his ear. “what’s the matter, toji? can’t handle it?”

“handle it?” he scoffs, though it’s half a gasp. “goddamn it, you’re the one who can’t handle it — afraid to let me loose ‘cause you know i’ll turn this around. just let me — ah, shit — just lemme go, baby. lemme give you what you really want.” his voice is nothing but broken promises now, tinged with a need that he can’t suppress, his pride slipping with each passing second.

“oh, you’ll give me what i want, alright,” you murmur, thrusting into him harder, and he’s gone, his mouth spilling a string of curses as his whole body rocks beneath you, muscles clenching and quivering as he loses his last grip on self-control.

“fuck — fuck! you’re killin’ me here… damn it, ‘m — shit— please,” he finally chokes out, panting as he all but collapses against the bed, chest heaving as his head drops into the pillow, words slipping out before he can bite them back.

the word falls from his lips, low and raw, barely audible through his labored breaths, but you heard it — please.

the single, desperate plea you’d been waiting for all night. a smirk curls at your lips, and you pull back, letting your movements slow, just enough to tease him, to drive him crazy, watching as his body reacts, his hips helplessly lifting to chase the strap.

“what was that?” you ask, your tone dripping with mock sweetness as you lean over him, feeling his muscles tense under your weight. “thought i heard something… but i need you to say it again, baby.” you give him the smallest roll of your hips, just enough to make him shudder, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

“don’t… don’t play games with me,” he grits out, though his voice cracks on the last word, frustration edging into desperation as he tries to lift his hips, only to meet empty air when you pull back. his cock strains against his stomach, throbbing, smearing more precum across his abs, and he lets out a frustrated growl, his knuckles white as he strains against the bindings.

you lean close, lips brushing his ear. “c’mon, big guy. just say it again. wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“fuckin’…” he bites down on a curse, but the fire’s quickly fading as he grits his teeth, panting. “please. goddamn it. don’t make me — shit, just… please, alright?”

your smirk widens, and you roll your hips slowly, enough to make him gasp, but still holding back, watching as he bucks his hips up, trying to get more, each desperate thrust of his hips just pressing him deeper into frustration.

“again,” you murmur, enjoying the way he’s slowly coming apart beneath you, pride crumbling with each desperate word that leaves his lips.

“goddamn it — please,” he hisses, voice cracking as he tugs on the bindings, the skin of his wrists flushed and raw from straining. “please, just… just give it t’me baby, fuck, you’re killin’ me here.”

“aww, poor thing,” you coo, shifting just enough to let him feel the movement, the pace barely picking up. “you sound so needy, toji. what happened to all that tough talk, hm?”

“fuck you,” he rasps, though the bite’s gone from his words, replaced with nothing but a trembling desperation that leaves him shaking. “don’t… don’t get cocky. just… please, baby, i’m beggin’ ya,” he rasps, hips jerking again to meet the slow, maddening rhythm you’ve set. “just — fuck, you win, alright? just… please.”

and there it is again, the word spilling from him, rough and raw, his pride long forgotten as he pants and squirms beneath you, bruised ego be damned, as he loses himself completely in the pleasure you’re holding just out of reach.

toji’s composure has completely shattered, and he’s beyond caring now, each thrust pulling shameless whimpers and curses from him as he clings to any scrap of relief. his body rocks in sync with yours, his own hips jerking up to meet every punishing thrust, and he’s practically chanting your name between gasps, his voice hoarse and thick with need.

“shit — fuck, yeah, that’s it, please, baby, keep goin’ — don’t stop,” he rasps, each word tumbling out without restraint. “goddamn, you’re perfect, just — ah — i’ll do whatever ya want, hear me?” his chest heaves, and he sounds desperate, almost worshipful. “fuckin’… anythin’ you want, ‘m yours, all yours,” he babbles, and it’s clear he means it, every ounce of his resistance completely gone.

you lean down, biting down on his shoulder hard enough to make him groan, and your hands find his chest, fingers teasing his nipples, sending shocks through his overstimulated body. “all mine, huh?” you murmur, smirking against his skin. “maybe i should just keep you like this forever, make you beg every single time, until you know your place.”

“f-fuck, yeah — please,” he chokes out, his voice a raw, needy mess. “make me beg, baby, i’ll do whatever —just don’t stop.” his words spill out as if he’s making some kind of promise, his head thrown back, lips parted, lost in the relentless pace you’re setting. “shit, can’t believe — fuck, gonna kill me, i swear,” he groans, but his body says otherwise, thrusting back, silently begging for more.

“good boy,” you murmur, sinking your teeth into his neck again, and he shudders violently, practically singing your praises as you drive him further into that blissful, submissive haze.

toji’s body is writhing, his hips grinding desperately against the mattress, each movement filled with that raw, animalistic need to get some kind of release. it’s almost endearing — seeing him so utterly wrecked, so utterly at your mercy, and you can’t help but laugh softly at how completely he’s fallen apart. feeling generous, you reach down, your hand wrapping around his aching cock, and the instant your fingers close around him, he’s done for.

“fuck — !” toji cries out, his whole body seizing up as he shoots the hottest load you’ve ever seen, painting his abs and chest in thick streaks. but you don’t stop; if anything, your pace only intensifies, pushing him further into that blissed-out state, his body overstimulated and trembling.

“oh, you thought we were done?” you murmur, and he groans, a pathetic, wrecked sound that only fuels you further. his hips are still bucking, body still moving on instinct as you keep thrusting, relentless and unyielding.

“god — ah, shit — c-can’t take it,” he stammers, but his hips say otherwise, grinding down, chasing that sensation even as his brain goes hazy from the pleasure overload. his cock twitches and leaks as you drive him to the edge, and before long, he’s practically shaking, a broken string of curses falling from his lips.

“gonna squirt f'me, aren’t ya, toji?” you coo, leaning down, and he whimpers, nodding as his whole body tightens, finally spilling over again in a messy, shuddering climax that leaves him breathless, completely spent, and utterly yours.

toji’s entire body jerks when your hands start moving along his oversensitive shaft again, quicker this time, your fingers applying just the right pressure. a strangled cry escapes him, desperate and broken, his hips twitching involuntarily as you continue to push him past his limit. his head drops forward, his breathing ragged as he tries to keep up, tries to give you what you’re demanding, even though he’s spent and trembling, every nerve in his body on fire.

“c-can’t — fuck, can’t take it,” he gasps, his voice strained, yet he doesn’t pull away. instead, his hips roll weakly to meet your hand, barely holding up as he surrenders, his whole body tensing as he fights to keep that promise he made to you.

“oh, you’re gonna take it,” you murmur, your hands relentless as you pump his shaft, tightening your grip. “you said you’d give me whatever i want, right, baby? want you to squirt for me, and i know you can.”

“shit — ah, god, yeah,” he babbles, practically incoherent, his hips bucking as his cock twitches, already dripping. “fuck, okay, okay — just… don’t stop, baby, please.” his voice is nothing but a breathless plea as he lets himself fall completely, mind hazy, following your every command.

finally, with one last broken moan, his body tenses, muscles taut, and he gives in, his release spilling over again, messy and unrestrained.

toji slumps back against the bed, utterly spent, his chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm as he tries to catch his breath. he looks absolutely wrecked, and you can’t help but giggle softly at the sight of him — bruises blooming over his shoulders, neck, and hips. he’s like a beautiful mess, and you can’t get enough of it.

“you okay there?” you tease, brushing your fingers gently through his hair as he burrows his face into your chest, seeking comfort. he nuzzles against you like a needy little kitten, and you can’t help but smile at how adorable he is in this vulnerable state.

“mm,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin, and you can feel his hot breath against you as he lazily licks along your collarbone, teasingly, searching for comfort. it’s both amusing and endearing, watching him behave so childishly after everything that just happened.

“you’re such a baby,” you chuckle, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the top of his head, the warmth of his body against yours bringing you a sense of calm. “i know you’re tired, but we need to clean you up a little.”

“don’t wanna,” he whines, his voice still thick with exhaustion as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. “just wanna stay here. you’re warm, and it feels nice.” his tongue flicks out again, playfully teasing against your skin, and you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re really something else, you know that?” you say, shaking your head in amusement. but there’s a warmth in your heart at how he’s so willing to let his guard down with you, so trusting. you gently pull him up, guiding him to sit against the headboard as you reach for a damp cloth to help clean him up.

“hold still, toji,” you instruct, and he huffs out a breath, but complies, looking up at you with those beautiful, tired eyes. “we can cuddle later, okay? right now, let’s just get you cleaned up.” he grumbles softly but allows you to wipe him, the cloth gliding over his skin while he leans into your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“you take such good care of me,” he murmurs, a hint of sincerity in his tone, and you can feel your heart flutter at his words. it’s a reminder that underneath that tough exterior, he’s still just a man who appreciates being cared for, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

as you gently clean him up, you can’t resist teasing him a bit more. “you know, it’s kinda cute how all it takes is a little pegging for you to turn into this mushy version of yourself,” you say with a playful grin, your fingers working deftly over his skin. “i didn’t know you were such a softie underneath all that muscle.”

toji doesn’t even bother looking up at you, too focused on burrowing deeper into your chest. he’s like a stubborn child, lips pouting as he licks at your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “shut up,” he mumbles, his voice still muffled against you, but you can see the faint flush creeping across his cheeks. “not talking to you.”

“aw, c’mon, you know you love it,” you chuckle, giving him a gentle nudge. “who knew that your big, tough exterior could crumble so easily? i might have to use this against you more often.”

he huffs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he finally lifts his head, meeting your gaze with those captivating eyes. “you wouldn’t dare,” he says, trying to sound serious but failing miserably. the way his lips quirk up gives him away, and you can’t help but lean in to steal a quick kiss.

“oh, but i will,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter between you. “just think of all the fun we could have with you all soft and emotional like this.”

“you’re insufferable,” he replies, but there’s no bite to his words, only warmth as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. “but… maybe a little fun wouldn’t hurt.”

❤︎ taglist: @ghost-buddies @no-irefusetotellumyname @byerno6 @anime-s1ut @stinkarinka

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