#yes this is a joke but it’s really only a little to the left of the truth. imposter syndrome and RSD are like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

straows · 2 days ago

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𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥. 𝘖𝘯 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘺. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳??

Warning: insecurities, when Gojo’s tipsy he’s an asshole, yada yada I’m sad so your gonna be sad, extreme dieting + weightloss, not good communication, maybe apart two? Only if yall want one tho. This is kinda ass.

You and Gojo were at a dinner party with some of your friends. You were dress up all pretty in a nice dress and Gojo was looking great as usual.

Gojo, bless his heart and his weak little alcohol tolerance had taken a few too many sips of your wine and was a hit tipsy at this point.

You were laughing at a joke one of your close friends had said to you, and you look up at Gojo, only to see him staring at another woman across the hall. Yes she was gorgeous, soft perfect skin, short but thick hair, a stunning figure…

‘Oh god.’ Your heart dropped down to your stomach, chest tightening but you forced yourself to stay calm. This could be a misunderstanding.

“Hey baby, what are you looking at?” You sweetly smile and gently put your hand on his forearm.

“Man she’s gorgeous…, this reminds me, have you put on some weight?” Gojo looked down at you, his eyes a little glazed over from the wine.

You and your best friend just froze. Your stomach began to ache and your throat began to burn as you held back tears. That is not something any woman would want to fucking hear.

Clenching your jaw, you simply smile, albeit a little shakily, “a little bit. Sorry.” You murmur.

Gojo just sighed and looked back over at the woman.

That’s how that night went. You just standing by his side all night trying to not cry because all he did was stare at that woman.

Even she was getting a little creeped out and left.

So when you got home, you stared at yourself in front of the mirror. Wearing a pair of sleeping shorts, no top or bra on.

Your hands slowly slid over your stomach and gently squeezed your hips. You had an amazing figure, sure, you’d put on some weight but most of it just went to your ass and thighs. You’d thought you looked good, even Toji, the womanizer and brutally honest asshole said you looked fine as hell.

You went to bed beside Gojo but didn’t cuddle up against him, hell you hugged the edge. You didn’t want anyone to touch you, especially not after tonight’s events.

And you weren’t any better in the morning. Your heart ached and so did you insecurities. Hell new ones even began to peak back up.

In the morning, instead of walking around in your normal Gojo’s shirt + panties combo, you had a thick hoodie on and a pair of baggy sweats.

“Fuck, man I don’t know how you drink wine, my head is killing me.” Gojo groaned as he walked into the kitchen. “Wanna order breakfast?” He continued to speak as he reached into the fridge.

“Uh im not really hungry right now.” You awkwardly walked away from him. However as you sat down on the couch and stared at your feet, you decided, ‘maybe I should go to the gym. I’ve put on some happy weight, Gojo was right.’

So everyday at 3, you’d disappear. You did NOT want Gojo knowing you were going to the gym just because he made you feel insecure.

Along with going to the gym, you’d began to diet yourself pretty strictly. Strict enough to where you didn’t drink anything but water, and that included wine. Your favorite.

It was 3 o’clock, and on the dot you were at the door ready to leave. However, Gojo had stopped you this time. “Baby where are you going?”

“Uh, I have to run some errands.” Awkwardly you turned away from and grabbed your keys.

“I can come with you, we haven’t really hung out much… I mean we haven’t even binged a show w forever snacks in so long.” Gojo frowned, looking down at you with a glint of worry in his eyes.

“I’ve just been busy. You can have all the snacks you won’t tho babe, you look good no matter how much you eat.” You sighed through your nose, almost envious that he literally could eat anything and not get fat.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Gojo tried to grab your hips to pull you closer like he used to, but you pulled away.

“I have to get going Gojo.” And just like that, you left Gojo standing there confused as fuck wondering what happened. None the wiser that things he’d said previously was causing the relationship to slowly pull apart.

This carried on for a few more weeks. With strict work outs and diets, you dropped weight. A lot, surprisingly. But you still didn’t like you looked. You wanted to look just like that woman from the party.

You wanted your boyfriend to only look at you, to think that you were perfect and not stare at other women, look at you, and then literally fucking sigh.

However, this had caused some strain on your relationship. You two hadn’t had sex in WEEKS. You were pent the fuck up, and he was definitely pent up.

Gojo is def the kind of guy that hates to jerk off because all he wants is to be inside you btw.

But along with sex, you two hardly had meals together. And when you did, he was really the only one eating. You’d always always ALWAYS eat before. You didn’t want to tell him why you were doing this and what you were doing it for.

But Gojo was tired of this and he missed his girlfriend.

You were almost out the door once again, at exactly 3 o’clock. But Gojo was quick to block you from the door and lean against it so you couldn’t open it.

“Wha- babe what are you doing? I have to go.” You looked at your boyfriend confused. Your normal clothes looked a little baggy on you now with the weight loss.

“Where are you going?” His voice was little more stern. His face serious as he stared down at you.

“Out for—“

“For errands? Yeah right. You leave and don’t bring anything back. So let me ask again, what are doing when you leave?” He crossed his arms, his gaze turning to a glare.

“It doesn’t fucking concern you, now please move.” You were getting frustrated. You were missing your appointment with the trainer you’d hired recently.

“No. Are you cheating on me?” Gojo demanded. His own chest aching and his throat burning. What would he even do if you said yes? Self destruct? Most definitely.

“What? No! Your insane. Babe, I love you, but I have to go or I’ll be late.” You tried to move past him but he was not having it. Especially not when your phone rang and you quickly tried to silence it. Gojo was quick to snatch it from you tho and answer it.

“Who the fuck is this?” He glared at you the whole time he spoke, his knuckles white with how tight his grip was on the device. You were scared he might even break it.

“This is the trainer from abcdefg gym. I was calling to ask when (y/n) would be here, she is- ten minuets late.” The man spoke from the other line.

Gojo’s angry expression turned to one that was confused. “The gym? You’re her trainer— this doesn’t matter. She’s not going to make it today. Bye.” He was quick to hang up and put your phone on the counter before looking at you. “Since when did you work out? And since when did you have a trainer?”

“Why does it matter?” You glared at Gojo, feeling embarrassed.

“Because we haven’t hung out like we used to in forever! You don’t eat with me, we don’t have sex— which is fine! You don’t let me hold you in bed, and you won’t tell me why! What did I do?” Gojo begged, his brows furrowed as he gently grabbed your hands in his.

“— and not only that, but baby you’ve been losing a lot of weight too- I just don’t understand why your changing these things. Please just explain it to me.”

“You-…” you just sighed before pulling away from Gojo and sitting on the couch. “Do you remember when we went to that party a few weeks back?”

“You mean the one from a month ago? I mean yeah I guess, I was pretty tipsy.” Gojo shrugged before sitting on the sofa across from you.

“Yeah… do you remember what you said?” You awkwardly try to jog his memory. You felt so uncomfortable. But this was weighing on you and seeing how desperate Gojo was made your heart ache.

“I—…” Gojo paused, his memory slowly coming to him.

“𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵?” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮.

“𝘔𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴…, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?” 𝘎𝘰𝘫𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦.

Gojo’s face went pale. He stared at you for so long, long enough that you finally had to say something.

“Are you okay? Did- did you remember the woman?” Your heart broke a little more thinking that he had that expression because he remembered that gorgeous woman. Maybe he regretted not getting her number? Was he regretting your relationship? “Look, I need to go…” you murmured and got up, feeling dejected, rejected and so sick.

And even as you walked away, Gojo didn’t say anything. It was only until you’d even left that he blinked and started to say something, “baby, im so sorry- baby?” Standing up quickly, he looked around, only to notice your absence.

“Fuck!”

Should I do a part two? Idk I’m just sad rn. Y’all I want me a boyfriend- hell even a gf so baddd IM LONELYY 😭

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #imagine #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #angst #jjk angst #valentines day #i hate it here

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doctorwhoisadhd · 23 days ago

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also the other thing about the princess bride book is that you see the true scale of the great injustice done by count rugen when he killed domingo montoya

#ari opinion hour #domingo is this master swordsmith who NO ONE KNOWS makes swords and he lives in the mountains #anyone who needs a sword goes to madrid to seek out yeste the master swordsmith #but every so often yeste takes a commission he knows he is not skilled enough to make #and so he travels up to the mountains to visit domingo #and begs him to make this sword that he could not #and well basically domingo says no until yeste threatens to kill himself (all a part of their little joke of course)#and domingo stops him and says he will make the sword. and when it's finished he gives it to yeste to take back to the city #and tells him he must never tell anyone who really made this masterpiece (all domingo's swords can only be described as great works of art)#and yeste promises yes #but one day count rugen shows up saying he's heard these rumors that the best swordsmith in the world lives in a tiny cottage in the mtns #and sees no one and makes no swords #and domingo denies it and says that if he has a blade needing sharpening he can just about do it but his skill is no greater than that #but then the count shows him his hand #and when domingo sees that he has six fingers he becomes excited because this sword. THIS sword will be a masterpiece worthy of his skill #the great opus he has wanted to make all his life - the sword designed for an 80 year old to fight and WIN a duel #because all other swords are designed for FIVE fingers and so the balance is all wrong the grip is not wide enough and so the count #as a master swordsman can never be at ease as a great swordsman must be #so domingo tells him to come back in a year. he shrugs off the count's talk of payment as he may yet fail. but come back in a year #so domingo for one long year works and works only sleeping when inigo makes him only eating when inigo forces him #he weeps over this sword when he thinks he can never do it; that his opus can never be realized as he doesnt have the skill to complete it #but finally after a year it's done. and it is the most beautiful sword in all of existence #the count returns and says it is a fine sword but it is not truly worth much #and domingo says that he will not have it if he cannot see the artistry. the beauty and the craftmanship and the many long hours #he returns the gold ring the count left as collateral and says that the count has lost nothing. leave. the sword belongs to his son inigo #and the count kills him

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tommygotwrittenoff · 6 months ago

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my favorite thing about bt is when there's an opportunity for buck and t to have a deeper connection, but then t just shuts it down. like, go girl, give us nothing!!!!

#like outside of 7x04...have they had an actual conversation that didnt exclusively consist of sex or t being dismissive #ig you could argue their date scene #well both date scenes but come on the first one was like so bad #yeah they had a nice (im using that term very loosely) little conversation about coming out but then t made that closet joke and left buck #like okay listen its not tha big of a deal but it is!!!#how can you seriously sit there and be like oh yeah i was lying to myself about being gay because i was scared #and then when the (newly bi) man youre on a date with kinda freaks when faced with coming out not on his own terms youre surprised???#come on #be so serious rn #and sorry not sorry but i will always hate him for leaving buck on the sidewalk outside the restaurant #yes buck is a grown ass man and could get home safely #but its the fact that he didnt tell buck anything until his uber had pulled up #like that man was talking about the movie yall were planning on seeing on you were just watching your uber get closer #i dont care who you are that us just rude as fuck #and the your fathers alive in the finale #fuck off #like the conversation about t and his father was literally only included to connect to gerrard #deny it all you want but t really was a plot device in 7b #he had like what maybe 5 minutes of screentime #he is so over #anti tommy kinard #me thinks

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raeofgayshine · 10 months ago

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I wish I could go back and tell younger me that I would in fact find that place one day full of people that I adore deeply and who I know love me in return. Who make me feel wanted and cared for and appreciated in a way I never thought would be possible. And none of it required hiding, or forcing myself to be a person I’m not. And I still have that space even though I’m aroace.

For the first time ever, I see a future where I’m not alone. And I wish I could go back and tell my younger self it would happen. It’s possible to not be constantly lonely.

#ravenpuff rambles #I’ve been lucky enough in my life to make amazing friends several times #several of whom are still in my life now #but it’s only been recently that I’ve felt like I truly found my place #I don’t know how to explain it #I guess up until now I have always gone into friendships expecting them to end and holding back just a little bit #and this is the first time I don’t feel like I have to run because I don’t feel like these people are going to leave me #maybe it’s just because one of them is also aroace and we’ve talked a lot about those similar feelings of being left behind #never had someone quite get that before #and maybe it’s just I feel more willing to open my heart #admittedly this group of ours went through some shit together and that’s how the friendships really started forming #and so maybe that helps #but it’s like #Have you ever met someone who is so much like you in so many ways that its like the joke of ‘#‘can I copy your homework?’ ‘yeah just be sure to change it so no one knows’#It’s a weird thing of feeling so completely and totally seen by somebody sometimes without having to say a word #anyways #I’m really happy with this little place I found and I wish I could tell younger me #and also tell xem that no it doesn’t look like a fanfic dream #no im not their person but yeah they’re kind of mine but that’s okay #its nothing and everything like I always thought of #and for the first time in my life I don’t feel a crush sense of loneliness #yes I wish I could see them in person #but I can be okay with everything I do get

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capetowncapers · 2 years ago

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I am not that sensitive I just need my employers to always tell me in no uncertain terms that I am doing so very especially well and they do not hate me and I am not a disappointment, perhaps even an asset. I require positive feedback semi regularly or I will assume that you hate me and want me dead, thank you for understanding.

#yes this is a joke but it’s really only a little to the left of the truth. imposter syndrome and RSD are like that #add in that end of semester burnout and. i am doing just dandy #omg I got really nice feedback from a professor on a paper today though she was really hyping up my writing and it was so nice of her 😭#honestly thought it wasn’t my best work so it was surprising but nice to see her be like yeah this is so insightful and well written and …#like…. really? thank u omfg #cape town rambles

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readwritealldayallnight · 3 months ago

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(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

When Ghost had asked if you would help him with something, you’d answered yes without a question. You didn’t ask for details, smiling and thanking him every time he opened each door that led to the base’s parking garage, giggling when he even insisted on opening the truck door for you. You’d come to grow fond of your work husband, appreciating how he never failed to make you feel special.

You sometimes wished his affections were genuine, rather than part of what you’d assumed was a strange hazing ritual in the military (which you couldn’t deny kind of worked, the two of you had grown closer hadn’t you? Was that the point of hazings?).

But you knew that line of thinking wouldn’t lead anywhere, other than potential heartbreak. He surely was only joking around, wouldn’t return your feelings. That’s why you played along with the ruse, but tried your best not to fall too hard for the man who was making that more and more impossible.

Still though, you couldn’t deny the pang in your heart when you discovered the errand he requested your help with, was to go look at engagement rings.

Did he actually have someone special in his life? Someone he hoped to propose to?

You felt guilty, thinking there might be another person out there that he loves enough to ask them to marry him, all the while you’re enjoying his attention at work, pretending he could ever actually want you as his wife.

You follow him into the shop, eyes widening at the never ending cases and displays of shiny, glittering jewelry, as far as the eye can see.

He chuckles at your expression, telling you not to worry your pretty little head over any price tags, just to pick out whichever one you liked.

You appreciated that he trusts your judgement so much that he wanted your opinion on which ring to buy his partner, and so you take your time looking through them all, even if it makes you sad to picture him slipping this ring onto another person’s finger.

Gaze scanning the displays, your eye is instantly caught by one ring and one ring only. You point to it, Ghost humming in agreement, signalling for one of the employees behind the counter to unlock the case.

The man pulls the ring out, handing it to the Lieutenant who examines it in between gloved fingers.

“Let’s see how it fits.” He murmurs, taking your left hand in his and slipping the band onto your ring finger, both of your eyes locked on the movement.

“Like a glove.” The employee says with a smile, moving to gather a selection of ring boxes he hopes to show you both, seeing that the ring has evidently found its owner and fits perfectly.

“It’s really beautiful Ghost.” You tell him, admiring the ring as he admires your expression. “Your wife’s a lucky woman.” You add, thinking of the mystery woman you’re convinced he’s buying this for, assuming you must have a similar ring size to her or something, if he’s having you try it on.

Your eyes meet his own warm gaze as his hand folds your fingers, bringing the ring up to his lips to press a kiss through the mask.

“Not as lucky as I am to be her husband.”

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 months ago

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“Batman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!” - Batfam x Fem!reader

Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans.

Oop, I’m back (?). My dudes. It’s been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...don’t know if some of y’all saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didn’t really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, don’t hesitate to let me know if you do :

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

________________________________________________

“You’re evil, you know that right ?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing.

And that it was utterly...evil.

“It’s going to be FUN !”

Ah, and here’s his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family.

“They won’t believe their eyes !” His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish.

“That they won’t, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.”

Jason. Still not calling Bruce “dad” (except sometimes, by “accident”, and even him don’t realize he did), he’d only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.

Dick chuckled and added : “Who would blame them ? We’re talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !” He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldn’t hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile.

“I’m certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARS” Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point.

Oh yes. That’s where you were going, to the JLA’s headquarters. To execute Bruce’s plan. Quite the evil plan indeed.

“Hell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !” Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say : “what he just said”.

And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his children’s teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes.

Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise.

************

Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters :

“Oh, hey ! Look, Batman’s zeta tube is turning on ! We haven’t seen him in a while right ?”

Indeed they haven’t. Because, well, let’s put it this way : Batman’s wife just had a baby.

A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass weren’t TOO outnumbered anymore).

And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl.

Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne.

Just a man, who thought he’d never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children.

That was happiness then, right ?

So, yes. Batman hasn’t been much at the JLA’s headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a “hero”).

And that what’s made him particularly evil.

He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadn’t forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !).

And he knew they were a little worried about him.

He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : “Everything is ok” to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadn’t dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didn’t talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his “red button”, him, or anyone in the family.

They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasn’t anything bad.

Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried.

And Bruce knew.

You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan.

Why tell them, when you could toy with them ?

“They deserve it.” He told you, and you weren’t sure if they did, but you weren’t about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didn’t come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise.

Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours.

This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughter’s life only between yourselves.

It was nice, to go out “disguised” as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them).

It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit.

So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasn’t just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughter’s life being the only one being utterly smitten with her.

Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Let’s just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it.

Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby.

She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of “readiness” ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family.

And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLA’s headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husband’s arms.

Evil. Your husband was downright evil.

He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW.

And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little “prank”.

************

“Batman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?” Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself.

None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...

Bruce’s face didn’t move an inch, he just held that little “package”, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin.

Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing.

Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?

The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??

WHAT ?!

They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they weren’t there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation.

They knew he didn’t have the same face expression, when they were around.

Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him.

Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly : “He doesn’t kill people. He could break your knee caps though” in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jason’s death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldn’t be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them).

It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children.

Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his “mask” around them. After all, Bruce’s stoic expression was his face by default. It’s just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his father’s shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated.

Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.

Like today.

The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird.

Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. That’s just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least.

And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didn’t surprise them with something ?

How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...

Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image.

The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy.

Odd.

Yet, sweet.

Were they surprised ? Yes.

Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely.

Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too.

Were they happy for him ? For sure.

Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to.

Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky.

Hal, couldn’t help but think : “First, he’s not a vampire, then, he’s married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!”

***********

The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter.

“Her name is Martha.” Bruce said “We named her after my mother.” and it wasn’t his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didn’t want to scare his daughter, as he still held her.

She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruce’s hand hold her a little tighter.

Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried she’d be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-

Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards-

“What a sweet little girl !” Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her “voice reserved for babies and domestic animals”, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness.

You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most.

Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-

Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away.

Damian.

Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously.

He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends.

************

Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her.

Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldn’t hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldn’t hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasn’t about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.

Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your son’s stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ?

Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family.

Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldn’t give her their “viruses or whatever”.

You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice).

You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didn’t have much luck for the first few years of his life.

But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking.

Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldn’t have hurt the amazon).

************

It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, it’s Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them.

Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didn’t fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes.

They weren’t fooled by Dick’s agreeable smile either. A smile that didn’t always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless.

Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly.

Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her : “What ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I can’t believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*”.

After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruce’s watchful eyes.

Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They weren’t too worried, except-

Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her.

And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course).

“Oh no careful !” He’d scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and they’d scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh.

“You little-” Hal’s colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I don’t know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born.

You wouldn’t admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldn’t be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together.

************

Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him.

She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruce’s, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman.

He didn’t like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason

Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if he’d break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that.

He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldn’t take her, and she was so adorable and-

He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to.

Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didn’t say anything. He just let her do it.

You really hoped she wasn’t going to take advantage of this when she’d get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA.

************

“How can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?” Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable.

Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ?

“I believe, to make a baby, you need to-”

“Um, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! It’s just-Oh, forget it.”

Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon J’onzz didn’t seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people.

Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time.

Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest).

It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said : “I made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, she’s fine, and she likes it” and indeed, your daughter didn’t have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Tim’s face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damian’s was utterly vexed.

Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him.

As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone.

************

Cassandra didn’t say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents.

She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements.

Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted.

Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earth’s mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cass’ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his : “ -_-” face, by reflex really.

Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to.

She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didn’t like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...

Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyone’s heart.

And you could see her slowly creep in every members’ of the Justice League’s heart too.

Gods, you couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldn’t get out of it unscathed (to say the least).

************

Martha was particularly fond of Duke’s inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions.

As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep.

He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Duke’s head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as others’ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...

But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too.

And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace.

He loved the idea that his arms were his daughter’s favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you : “They all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?” and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little.

So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddy’s girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him.

He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ?

It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way.

You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and-

Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughter’s little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept.

And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldn’t help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel.

Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture.

Seriously. That guy !!

************

Batman smiling was...different.

They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-

Well. Broad.

It wasn’t his signature smirk. It wasn’t a soft smile. It wasn’t a half-smile. It wasn’t a smile that you could only see in his eyes.

It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say).

And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to “stone mode” when he noticed them looking), never that much.

As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine.

It made them all feel...soft. And warm.

It was nice, to know the bat wasn’t just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, “just” a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it.

That the Batman didn’t exist because of hatred, but because of love.

Because he loved his parents, his city, and now-

His family.

It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an “a-hole” sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that.

A loving man, who wanted to protect others.

************

You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all :

1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate.

2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !

3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons).

4. Dick’s “game” of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction.

5. The success of Tim’s baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower.

6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child.

7. How Clark’s eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy “The Batman” was happy.

8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didn’t like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an “emotional support baby”. Ah.

9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world.

10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA weren’t rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant-

Oh it meant so much.

And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLA’s headquarters.

Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious-

All positive feelings.

And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying “byyyyye” to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them-

Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh.

Oh it felt like you would die of happiness.

And still, Bruce’s hands held yours tightly.

He knew.

He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again.

He knew.

He never loved like that before.

Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.

__________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Don’t hesitate to comment and/or reblog, it’s always greatly appreciated :).

Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my “main” storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : “wait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?” and here we are. I really hope you liked this; I’m nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ?

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lovegasmic · 1 month ago

Text

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ WELCOME HOME, CALEB 𝗩𝗛𝗦

‘ zayne x fem!reader x caleb ’ love and deepspace

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ — based off Caleb’s first scenes but with the current reunion◞ double penetration◞ thigh fucking◞ cunilingus◞ fingering ◞ squirting ◞ kitchen sex ◞ blowjobs ◞ creampie◞ tips touching◞ three way kisses◞ there is a little tension between Caleb and Zayne◞ and Caleb is a tease / sarcastic but not mean◞ w plot !

“let’s invite Zayne over for dinner”

you still remember that day clearly, when things were perfect, having shared a yummy lunch with Caleb and Grandma before everything went crashing down.

who could have through that lingering promise would have turned into a “let’s invite Caleb for dinner” instead.

surprised was not even the correct word to express how you felt upon reuniting with Caleb once again, shock, confusion, happiness, all emotions previously bottled up now bursting as you ran to embrace the man you had missed deeply.

“Zayne will be running a little late” you explain to Caleb who is currently standing next to you while helping chop a few vegetables, giving some extra attention to the carrots, “there was an emergency at the hospital”

Caleb couldn’t care less, to be honest, hiding the fact that he would very much rather spend the whole day with you alone, but alas, some time before the black haired man arrived was also welcomed.

“oh, really?” he hums, grabbing yet another carrot to chop, nonchalantly with a slight hint of a smile on his face, “it’s a pity, he works too much, doesn’t he? he’s probably getting wrinkly already” his words are so filled with amusement, like an inner joke he is not willing to share.

“don’t tease him” you scold him gently, “but yes, Zayne is often overworked, he never listens when I ask him to take breaks”

“he is a girls repellent, they don’t like workaholics” Caleb starts, almost as if he was testing the waters while you turned to wash a few used utensils so couldn’t see his eyes following you to gauge your reaction, “girls like attentive guys…, guys who can cook…, don’t you think” was he… praising himself?

“well—” Caleb scoffs a little loud, a sound you would have heard if it weren’t because the door suddenly was pushed open and Zayne walked in, with a bag in his hand and sliding his glasses into the shirt pocket with the other.

“oh, Caleb, it’s good to see you again” the doctor’s tone is as flat as you expected, yet he still approaches to greet the other man whose only thoughts are why did Zayne had the code to your apartment, why is Zayne so comfortable in your house, why is Zayne placing his hand on your waist while walking past you.

Caleb is not liking this at all.

“yeah” the smile gets back in place with a hint of annoyance that lasts a second, “good to see you too, Zayne”

the latter’s attention shifting to you almost immediately, now there is a soft smile while leaning next to you to check what’s in the oven, then the bag he was carrying is left on the counter, “i got some—”

“macaroons” Caleb chimes in with that smirk that borderlines on bickering, “i’m not surprised”

Zayne’s eyes lay on the other man, looking a tad bored even, then down on the counter with an almost imperceptible raise of a brow, “and you are still obsessed with carrots, i’m not surprised either”

“she loves them” Caleb motions to you while his eyes lock on Zayne’s

“i can’t—”

“she likes macaroons better”

“that’s you, actually—” you get to whisper under your breath, the atmosphere thick with unexpected tension.

“we grew up together” Caleb retorts, “i know her better”

“i also grew up with her”

“but not as long as me”

“are you sure about that?”

“stop!” you finally raise your voice and both of them turn to look at you with expressions softening like puppies who just got scolded, “why are you fighting? this was supposed to be a nice dinner” your voice lowers with a sigh as you lean over the counter with both hands on the surface.

Zayne is the first to speak, resting a hand on your lower back, “i’m sorry”

and Caleb joins, saying your name very gently while bringing a hand to cup your nape, “i’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to ruin things” then he plants a kiss on the top of your head, to which Zayne replicated with a kiss on your shoulder, their affection making you shiver slightly.

but you don’t reply yet, having a hint of a pout on your mouth that both men find absolutely adorable, starting to leave more kisses across your skin, Zayne trailing up your neck to your ear while Caleb went down to kiss your neck and collarbones, unable to stop the soft whines that left your lips. and they continue, taking the cute little sounds you make as encouragement, “so cute” Caleb murmurs, with a hand coming to squeeze your waist and rub under your shirt with a thumb.

Zayne on the other hand, trails his hand up and down your back, settling on top of your butt and gently tugging you closer to the both of them.

“I didn't mean to upset you” is Zayne who speaks first, lowering his head to take a better look into your face and slowly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

which Caleb takes as a challenge, mimicking the other man to stare into your eyes with a smile, “come on, pipsqueak, forgive me” then presses a kiss on your lips, a chaste one that leaves you slightly surprised, unable to properly understand what just happened before Zayne repeats the act, the frown on his face almost imperceptible because of the way they’re constantly kissing you without giving you a moment to think.

until both crash and you are left utterly speechless when they both kiss you, with hands on your hips and waist, tongues sticking out to meet the other two in what you can just catalogue as the lewdest kiss you’ve ever gotten, unsure of whether of it’s Zayne or Caleb whose hands grope your ass, whose the one sliding a hand under your shirt until it comes to lay under your boob and you moan against their eager mouths.

the kiss does not stop, it’s so messy, with saliva, tongues and teeth, muffled groans of delight solely from kissing your soft lips.

“you taste delicious” Caleb parts with a pant, as if he has just ran a marathon and would do it again, all while Zayne takes the opportunity to kiss you himself, still without much words, yet cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head back and devour your mouth, sloppily and uncharacteristically messy for a doctor of his level.

kisses get peppered on your neck next, lower and lower while your other best friend starts to slowly open your blouse buttons, his tongue leaving a burning trail that soon cools against the air from where his saliva touches the skin of your chest, down the valley of your tits. his hands being too skilled and Zayne’s kiss leaving you breathless that your lust filled brain barely registers the other man’s hands undoing your bra, too impatient to even take it off so he just pushes the soft fabric up and attaches his lips to a nipple, sucking eagerly and barely nibbling on the sensitive flesh, sending waves of slick down your already drenched panties.

“ah, fuck—” you moan against Zayne’s mouth, who eagerly receives the sound with a low growl of his own, slow and very gently sliding the hand —you now realize was Zayne’s all along— down the curve of your ass and under the skirt, barely teasing the crotch of your panties with a single finger that dips in between your folds through the flimsy fabric.

moans only grow, getting a little choked with how dizzy both of them made you feel.

Caleb’s lips are so eager, so soft and warm, leaving each nipple utterly sensitive and coated in saliva as he moaned against your skin, unconsciously helping Zayne keep your skirt up around your waist as he slowly knelt in between your legs, nose bumping against Zayne’s fingers and your lower lips that were so visible through the soaked panties, “fuck, love… you smell divine” his voice so deep and makes your knees buck, and forces Zayne to finally release your mouth with a gasp as his green eyes flickered to the sight of Caleb between your legs, eagerly tugging down on your panties until the fell on the cold ground with a soft ‘splat’ due to how wet they were.

you whimper at the coldness, which gets quickly replaced by Caleb’s lips attaching to your clitoris, sucking the engorged nub, “C-Caleb! a-ah yes” your cries are heavenly for both men, who can feel their cocks getting even harder at your sounds, smell, and they way your cute body shook.

Zayne is quick to help, latching his lips to your earlobe and nibbling, making sure to wrap an arm around your waist to keep your body upright as his finger found your empty and fluttering hole, “so wet, so pretty” his voice is deep, caressing your ear like his fingertips does with your hole before dipping inside, “and so tight…”

“Zayne!” you mewl, now, holding onto Caleb’s hair with a hand and Zayne’s wrist with the other, a few seconds away from letting out a sob bubble out your throat.

“good?” and you nod, gasping at each delicious thrust and curling motion of the fingers inside your gushing cunt that squelched vulgarly, alongside the sounds of the man between your legs, slurping and sucking on your clit and folds as his life depends on it, occasionally brushing against the other man’s fingers which makes him groan.

there is slick dribbling down your legs, which Caleb eagerly laps up with a low, murmured, “fucking delicious” before his lips are on you again, there’s a cacophony of sounds, to which the sound of belts soon join and a muffled growl against your folds, before you can hear a soft ‘shlick’, fluttering your eyes open to be greeted with the sigh of Caleb between your legs and his arm moving desperately between his own.

“can I…” Zayne breaks your line of thought, pressing a kiss on your nape and the tip of his now bare and drenched cock rubs against the back of your thigh, immediately understanding what he was asking for and you nod.

Caleb stands finally, with lips coated in slick, aggressively fisting his own fat and veiny cock that already leaks precum before he is kissing you now, sharing the taste of your juices and a hand tight on the hair in the back of your head to keep your head still.

“you taste so good” Caleb mumbles with what you can just explain as a drunk hazed smirk, and you’re no far from it, with half lidded eyes, moaning wantonly while a little line of saliva dribbles down your cheek at Zayne’s two fingers abusing your cunt, managing to hit the delicious spongy spot that had your hole gushing waves after waves of slick all over his hand and a bit on the floor.

your hands land on Caleb’s shoulders, tugging for another kiss at the same time Zayne’s thick cock slides between your legs, keeping them squished for a better grip.

“stay like that” he murmurs so low and dark that you, once again, get impossibly wetter, soaking his cock that’s perfectly nestled between your folds and bumping on your clit with each thrust.

it really is flattering how both of them get whipped by you so easily, with Zayne moving faster and faster until your body gets also rocked back and forth, and his cockhead brushes against Caleb’s in front of you, making them both moan and you whine at the sound, throwing your hips back to get a little more friction, “m-more, please, I need to cum” you almost beg, and a hand lands on your clit, offering to rub you through an orgasm but you refuse, “no, i— ah!”

Caleb cups your face with a hand, a little tighter than necessary but his dark and blown pupils stare at you, “what do you need?”

Zayne stops too, rubbing on your lower abdomen so sweetly, “your cock” you murmur and precum dribbles down your thigh.

“whose?”

“both…” you barely murmur, letting another moan leave with how tight Zayne’s hands get on your hips.

“are you sure?”

“yeah… maybe… one at first?”

and they both agree, now Caleb sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs spread and your eager and warm mouth wrapped around his long cock that fills every inch of your mouth, veins pulsing in a warning of an imminent orgasm that he forces to stay down until he has a taste of that sweet cunt too.

“oh, darling, oh fuck” you never could have expected for Zayne to be so vocal, moaning against your neck while he basically humps your pussy with tiny thrusts that keep him deep, but they are so aggressive, so needy that you get pushed further against Caleb’s cock lodged down your throat, and a few tears fill your eyes at the stretch.

“ah, yeah, shit…” is the latter who moans now, grabbing a fistful of hair and keeping your mouth still, drooling all over his pelvis, “i need to fuck your cunt now, Zayne move over”

there is a little grumble from Zayne but he obeys, pulling you back against his chest that is now just covered by a shirt, you gasp and pant at the amounts of air that fill your lungs, allowing for Caleb to stand up in front of you, he was completely naked unlike Zayne and you who just had a skirt and socks on right now.

they tilt your head at the same time, lips crashing like minutes ago, making you so dizzy that you can barely register how they both lift you up, having you squished in the middle, thighs spread wide and swinging over their big arms.

“c-careful” you murmur through the mess of tongues upon feeling another cock poke on your clitoris, teasing the slick soaked skin and down your full and overly stretched hole that pulses around Zayne.

“i’ll be gentle” Caleb smirks, prodding against your abused pussy and slowly but steadily getting inside, the three moan simultaneously, the stretch too wide but still as inhumanly good, the feeling of their cocks rubbing together was sending shivers down their spines but none of the men was willing to say it out loud, barely nibbling on their bottom lip to keep the sounds down.

“so… tight” Zayne murmurs with open mouthed pants against your nape.

“you feel… ah… so amazing… what a heavenly pussy” Caleb comments next, keeping your thighs wide so his balls finally press flush against Zayne’s and your needy cunt.

“y-eah…! s’ full” your words are slurred, eyes crossing already and barely having time to think before they are moving and tossing you around, too pussy drunk to stop as they use you like a rag doll, up and down, sometimes in circles that has your toes curling and chest glistening with sweat and saliva that leaves your mouth wide open, almost dumb.

they groan unabashedly, muttering praises to your gorgeous cunt for sucking on their cocks so good, like a damn fuckin’ vice, refusing to let them go even if your brain shuts down, “s’ good, s’ fuckin’ good, feel funny…”

they have never seen a sight so pretty, your eyes crossed and filled with tears, tits jiggling and nipples hard in blissful pleasure.

there are a few jets of liquid gushing from your pussy, too stupid to even realize you’ve been cumming on their cocks already, they’re tiny but makes both of them groan when louder, hips snapping brutal and vulgarly against your over sensitive and used pussy, that keeps cumming nonstop.

Zayne has a hand on your pelvis, barely above your pussy, pushing in the skin to keep you flush and somehow feeling the movements of your insides being fucked by their fat cocks, making you squeeze them tighter.

“i’m going to cum” Caleb mutters with a hoarse tone, his forehead is covered in sweat and his head low, jaw slacked to let out those pleasure sounds, “can’t last longer, this pussy is too good”

Zayne does not want to admit how embarrassingly close he is as well, gritting his teeth while his hips snap a bit harder, making his flesh slap against your ass that’s sore by this point.

two, three more minutes and they fill you to the brim, tips pushing into that spot that is just so deep and you come crashing with a scream, soaking their lengths and balls with squirt while they both fill your womb with semen, so thick and so much you feel like throwing up.

no one speaks for what feels like hours, trembling in the middle of the kitchen floor, until Caleb speaks, “i hope… we can do this dinner again” his voice is low against your neck, and soon the smell of burnt food fills the air.

i’ve been wanting to write for them since so long so if its ooc I apologize ajsgshs

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taeslarityy · 7 months ago

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outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night.

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic.

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls.

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely.

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park.

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that.

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night.

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm.

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home.

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity.

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds?

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa.

You also adored the fuck out of Joel.

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock.

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman.

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts.

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.”

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day.

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. You’re stayin’ over.”

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided.

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.”

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by.

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home.

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet.

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm.

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing.

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already.

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee.

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it.

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name.

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house.

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted.

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?”

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you.

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest.

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long.

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. “You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

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cheapshrimpysheep · 6 months ago

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Yuu Needs a Hug 1

SUMMARY: What their comforting hugs are like when you're feeling sad or under the weather? And how would they behave if you started crying in their arms?

CHARACTERS: Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Bullet Points; In a Relationship

WORD COUNT: An average of 280 words per character.

COMMENTS: When I feel a little sad and under the weather, I often imagine these things to help me fall asleep. I thought you might like them too. 😘

Yuu Needs a Hug 2 (Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia)

CONTEXT: They are already in a relationship with you.

All of Riddle’s hugs happen in private, and comfort hugs are far from the exception.

If he is in his dorm uniform, a very characteristic hug from him is using the cape to cover you like a blanket and as a sign of protection. With his left arm around you.

His most common hugs are the ones where he hugs you with one arm while continuing his duties with the other, like homework, or some dorm-related paperwork. And with the hand that hugs you, absently caressing your back or head.

If you are really feeling very under the blue, he will occasionally kiss your forehead.

He's not the type to hug you tight. His arms will generally be very relaxed and loose around you, as if resting. For someone who is always so uptight and strict, that means a lot.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, then yes, all his attention goes to you immediately and his hug tightens. One arm around your waist and the other on your head, encouraging you to cry all you need on his shoulder.

He will be extremely understanding and act calmly as he knows, and shows you, that it is a normal thing and that he knows it will pass, that you will be fine because he will always be there for you. He himself knows from experience how crying can do a person good, and you were always there for him at those times.

And when you feel better, he will wipe your tears with his handkerchief (I'm sure he carries one somewhere in his clothes) and kiss your forehead with a sweet and reassuring smile.

Ace will gladly give you all the hugs you want. But he will always tease you saying that he wants something in return for every hug. But if you're really sad, he'll say he was joking.

If you really want hugs to make you feel better you'll have to ask in private, because in public he only gives you those more relaxed and playful hugs.

He can give you hugs standing up, but the ones he likes most are the ones when you're both lying on the couch. He likes to have you on top of him with your head against his chest and both of his arms around you, or to lie on his side between you and the back of the couch with one hand supporting his head and the other arm on top of you.

His main strategy to make you feel better is to talk about things that distract you. Generally silly things to tease you or make you laugh.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will panic a little and try to find out if it was something he said. After that, he will stop the jokes and hug you tighter and kiss your forehead.

He will be quieter than usual until your crying stops and only then will he return to his normal self.

Deuce will be slightly awkward at first. This is most likely the first time someone has asked him for a hug as a form of comfort. And since he doesn't have much experience with hugs either, he's afraid of messing it up.

He will start by hugging you standing up. You will feel his arms feel more comfortable around you as you explain to him that there is no way he could do that wrong. There is no therapeutic technique, he just needs to act as he feels he should.

If you are on the couch you will be sitting side by side. Your head on his shoulder, one of his arms around you, and the other he always not knowing what to do with it.

It will take a long time for him to have confidence in his comforting hugs because he knows that he is not the type of person who knows how to comfort others, much less physically. But he will always try his best for you.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will panic a little and, if he only had one arm around you, he'll quickly put the other one around you too. And he will hug you like you are in danger.

Maybe you will calm down by trying to calm him down and you'll both end up laughing about it.

Cater is the #best hugger! And as he is a person who likes to show affection, it doesn't matter if you two are alone or in public, he will give you all the hugs you need regardless.

Get ready for him to talk in that cute little voice like someone talking to a child. Not that he sees you as one, but he likes to talk and act cute.

And that's why his comfort hugs are also very cute, like someone hugging a teddy bear. He also gives you lots of kisses on your forehead and cheeks while hugging you.

Although he speaks in a cute way, he doesn't do it in a way that seems like he's minimizing your feelings, but rather in a way that tries to show that everything will be okay, that whatever it is will pass.

He can do this whether the two of you are standing together or if you are sitting on a couch. But in this last option, he will be so close to you that the most comfortable way for you to sit together is with you on his lap.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he won't change the way he's acting, as if knowing he was doing everything right and you crying was a good sign and an important part of you feeling better in the end.

When your crying calms down or stops, he will smile at you, wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs and say phrases like "Are you feeling better?" and "Everything will be okay."

In the case of hugging you to make you feel better, Trey has no problem doing it in public if you need to. And he also reacts to your request as naturally as he would if you asked him to make you a sweet dessert.

You might even be surprised by how naturally he hugs you and the way he rubs his hands comfortingly on your back, if you didn't remember that he has younger siblings and probably has some experience comforting them.

He smiles and laughs softly the whole time, as if he finds your attitude cute.

He can do this standing up or, if you are sitting on a couch, sitting next to you. But only if you are alone will he let you sit on his lap.

The relaxed way he comforts you is almost parental, it must be that older brother side of him.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he may become a little more serious, but he will always act calmly and comes across as having everything under control. One of his hands will also come from your back to the back of your head.

Once your crying calms down or even stops, he will wipe your tears either with a handkerchief he has or with his own blazer or shirt. He will smile at you, showing that everything is fine and ask if you would like one of his sweets to make you feel better.

Leona cares so much about being seen hugging you publicly that the botanical garden became your spot to take naps together as unbothered as a lion in the middle of savannah. He always wants you to be his pillow, whether it's your thighs or your chest. BUT showing genuine affection is only in private.

He had already noticed that you were sadder than usual, but you were the one who had to ask him for a hug, he was too proud to offer you one non-ironically.

He will open his arms and smile smugly, but he won't be the one to initiate the hug. If you want it, you have to take it.

But as soon as you do, he'll wrap you in a surprisingly affectionate hug. If you're lying down like when he takes a nap with you, his hands will encourage you to come closer and lay your head on his chest. You've just discovered the only way you can reverse your usual roles.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will remain calm and surprise you again. He'll start giving you soft kisses on your face and forehead, the equivalent of when felines lick each other's ears as a show of affection.

His tranquility can be contagious, especially because the calm beat of his heart is a reassuring sound.

Only when he is sure that your crying has stopped and you are better will he speak again: *sigh* “You just give me work, herbivore. I just hope you at least thank me in some way.”

Jack only hugs you in private! And if he ever does it in public, it's because he somehow forgot that you were in public and will quickly break the hug.

He is the complete opposite in private, after all he can be like a puppy: extremely affectionate if he feels comfortable with you. So it was always very common for you to cuddle on the couch.

His comforting hug ends up not being much different from usual, perhaps just less enthusiastic and more delicate. He likes having you in his arms, but he likes having his face close to yours more.

If you're sitting, he won't have any problem letting you sit on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. He won't take his arms from around you, nor stop kissing your forehead and cheeks softly and affectionately. All his attention is on you, and his main purpose at that moment is to dedicate himself to you.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will hug you tighter and the small and calm kisses will turn into love attacks on your face. Do you know when service dogs jump at their owner when they are having a panic attack, for example? It's something like that he's doing, without fully realizing it. Ok, maybe just not as intensely as service dogs do, but with a lot of affection.

This gesture will most likely make you laugh and start telling him you're okay so he can calm down. Which will make you calm yourself down as a result.

Ruggie doesn't really care if you're in public or not, he'll hug you regardless. And there's the bonus that when he hugs you in public, it's like marking territory and warning others.

He loves being cute and affectionate with you because he loves you being cute and affectionate with him back. He often does for you what he knows you would do for him. And a comforting hug is no different.

He will always tease with you a little at the beginning. "Aww, you want one of my special hugs? That’s so cute. But remember they are expensive, okay? You have to reward me later as a thanks.” He says this in a good mood that tries to put you at ease.

He will open his arms for you to hug him first and he will hold you in his embrace. He will be smiling playfully the whole time because he thinks it's funny how you can be so cute. And he will kiss your forehead with that same smile.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, his smile will fade. It was too serious for him to treat you with humor. He will tighten the hug and start saying sweet, soothing things in your ear like: "hey, don't worry. I'm sure everything will be fine."

When your crying calms down or even stops, he will smile at you again and say that it all made him hungry. What if you two went to eat something? Maybe, just maybe, he'll share some of his food with you if it's something you really like. But DO NOT get used to it!

ONLY when you are alone, in the VIP Room, Azul likes it when you sit on his lap while he does the Mostro Lounge’s paperwork. It's a healthy balance between the stress of business and the pleasure of having you in his arms.

The only two exceptions to the rule that he doesn't like others seeing you two like this are Jade and Floyd. Why? Because he likes to brag to them about having you all to himself. ("By all means, cry about it.")

He will hug you like he always does when you two are in the VIP Room. One arm around your waist, surprisingly firm, and the other on the papers. His attention is divided between reading and signing the contracts and turning to give you sweet kisses on your face and/or, if you allow it, on your neck.

If he feels you hugging him in a more clingy way than usual, he will comment in a soft voice: “You know, if I could be in my merman form, I'd let my tentacles do the paperwork and give you all the attention of my arms. The inconvenience of having two legs. No offense of course.” If this can get even a little giggle out of you, he'll be very happy.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, his right hand will immediately let go of the pen and join his left in hugging you. He hugs you so tight it's like you're trapped in his loving embrace. He is worried about you, but he does everything he can to not show himself too worried.

“Just never forget that if there is anything I can do, you can ask. Anything. I will solve any problem for you... just for you...”

When your crying calms down or even stops, he will wipe your tears with a handkerchief and give you a pack of tissues. And when you're better, he'll give you one of his most tender kisses on your cheek.

Jade doesn't like to draw attention, he prefers to observe others than to be observed. That's why his hugs are private, especially those comfort ones that you are asking for.

“You know you can open up to me whenever you need to, but keep doing it only when we're alone, okay? You never know who might be watching you looking for a weakne- I mean, a sensitive moment to use against you, my love.”

He's not much of a hugger in general, so all of his hugs end up being special. And since you're alone, he has no problem having you sit on his lap if you want.

His arms and hands are premeditatedly affectionate and attentive to you, as if he knew exactly how you liked to be hugged at that specific moment and he fulfilled these requirements to the letter. If there's one thing he knows how to do in a frighteningly perfect way, it's how to study and please others. And you are his biggest study interest.

Whatever you wanted him to do, he will know and do it. The way you want him to hug you, whether you want kisses or not, and how you want them.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, you will feel him, in a way, disappointed. With you or with himself, you don't know. “What is the mater? Did I not predict your desires correctly? It seems like I still have a lot to learn about you. How exciting.” He will kiss your forehead and let you cry on his shoulder.

He'll probably compare your crying to Azul's, making fun of him in that passive-aggressive way he does, and end up making you laugh.

When your crying calms down or even stops, he'll help clean your face and suggest that you two go to the Mostro Lounge, where he can prepare your favorite dish to make you feel better if you want. For free? Hmm... he can think about it.

Floyd can be VERY clingy. He loves to hug you, especially in public. Whether he’s in a good mood or not. Which means that, as he hugs you a lot, he also has many different types of hugs.

The vast majority of his hugs are to satisfy him, but they end up satisfying you too. Don't worry, he never squeezed you. He jokes that he will do it, but never actually does.

No matter what mood he's in, he never refuses to give you a comforting hug. For 3 main reasons: 1st an Octavinelle student never refuses someone's request for help. 2nd He thinks you're so absolutely cute asking him for a hug! It even makes him smile if he's in a bad mood. And 3rd You always give him the hugs he needs, it's only fair (even in terms of a deal) that he does the same for you.

He'll hug you, but he'll do what he wants in the meantime. Playing with your hair, resting his head on yours, swinging his legs if you are sitting down. And if you are, he will make you sit on his lap, it’s easier and more comfortable to hug you like this. He will probably also say silly things to pass the time or try to make you laugh.

If you happen to be so depressed to the point of crying, he will immediately shut up and if he was swinging his legs he will immediately stop too. He will straighten up, even if your head is resting on his chest. “You'll wash my clothes if you get them dirty, right Koebi-chan~?” He says this while stroking your head.

Even though he likes to provoke others, he has a perfect sense of limits, he just tends to ignore them most of the time. But it's different with you and that situation too.

When your crying stops, he will make you look at him, as if to check that the crying has stopped. If he confirms it, he will smile at you: "Is it over yet? YAY~! Can we make something fun now?”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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nenoname · 3 months ago

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It's still interesting that TBoB called more attention to Stan's control over his mindscape (And if you go with the interpretation that the lost pages are partial truths that are heavily influenced by Bill, then he's the one insisting that only someone with training should be able to have that much control over the mind.)

Meanwhile we have a memory!Stan. Someone who apparently knows too much and is rather aware for being a simple memory.

From the Wheel of Shame, we know Bill was able dig up all kinds of dirt on Stan but... that wasn't why he was there in the first place, was it?

Bill couldn't find the code immediately despite a memory of Stan opening the safe being a few hours old at most and decided to have Mabel try find it for him (The original concept of the ep had it far more hidden but this was likely cut because of time constraints)

Ford did experiments on Stan's mind which likely meant using Project Mentem and actually looking around his mindscape, and his only reaction was to comment on his jokes-- despite what little we the audience know being enough to render us sobbing wrecks

(yes I refuse to shut up about this part cos the book's intro is extremely underrated)

Stan was able to replace his memories of Ford with the swingset instead and managed to hide Ford in his Bar Mitzvah memory. And that's not even mentioning the lack of visible Portal and Stan o' War which noticeably show up in Ford's dreamscape (the broken swingset manifesting anyway pains me tho)

He subconsciously has misdirects for his secrets that are both silly and manages to disturb everyone too

And while Bill-as-Soos being bored by the vending machine memory is a joke that's basically the crew's way of going "hey remember the thing way back in the first ep that's going to show up in the next one?" and in-universe appears to be Stan slipping up, it's interesting that they had Stan input the wrong code when it's consistent literally every other time its inputted (especially when it shows up correctly in the very next episode)

It's even possible that the safe code that Bill found could have been a misdirect too but we'll never know since the safe got blown open by dynamite.

Stan was able to buy time by making his mind blank despite being genuinely terrified when Bill enters his mind (to the point that he breaks character and uses his own voice to yell), and could conjure up his living room (in colour opposed to his mind's regular greyscale) to make sure Bill didn't have enough room to flee, slamming the door in his face before the effects of the memory gun kicked in.

(EDIT: Random door analysis here)

And maybe the twins eventually told him that Bill had already been inside his mind after their W3 reunion, but all we know was that his conscious self was left in the dark for ages and wasn't really aware of Bill until Weirdmageddon.

TBoB showing McGucket's dreamscape also brings up the idea of the effects of the memory gun manifesting differently to each person. To Stan's mindscape, the memory wipe manifests as blue flames which immediately brings to mind Bill's powers but it's a far lighter shade (maybe to more closely match the memory gun and its eventual fade to white?)

The end of TBoB and the website poem also firmly reminds us about Stan's connection to fire but there's also the question if Stan himself is actually aware of it...

#but also j3 having ford read dipper's entries post dd&md but not having him know about the kids' encounters with bill is so kashdskahd #cos that implies he immediately skipped the pages that mentioned stan 😭and didn't read mabel's entries #oh for him to actually react to dipper's observations about stan's mindscape....#stan pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #gravity falls #gf meta #yes of course my brain is still going ' same coin theory ooooo' at this #cos i doubt that j1 has any mention of the mindscape and it's not like stan would have studied this stuff #imagine iconic hippy hater actually mediating on purpose #i'm still waving my arms about stan potentially seeing the reader's version of tbob tho #but even if that ain't the case bill having a breakdown from him reading him like a book is still iconic #dunno if this is coherent and i'm pretty sure all this stuff is things most folks know but idk some people didn't read the journal #some folks don't know about the poem!!!! truly the biggest tragedy

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saturnscafe · 2 months ago

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͙˚ ༘✶Primal | Werewolf Boyfriend (Female Reader)

Smut Below

A/N: did I write something similar before? Yes. Do I just love this concept? Yes lol

-🪐

Thinking about telling your werewolf boyfriend about having a primal kink. He takes you out one day driving you to a spot you always go for picnics. Then telling you, he’s giving you a minute to run before he comes after you. You blink looking at him as if he’s not already started the timer. When you realize he’s not joking you bolt, running fast through the woods.

You find a nice place you think he won’t find you only for a few seconds later to be pulled from your oh so well hiding spot. He has you pinned to the ground in no time ripping your clothes from you. He puts you on all four pushing your head into the dirt before pushing his fat cock into your dripping cunt.

His claws digging into your hips as he lets out low grunts and growls. His cock stretched you his tip kissing your cervix. His tongue sticking out as drool dripped from his mouth. “Such a dumb little human, you really thought you could out run me?” He’d growl his body coming down against yours. His muzzle pressed against your neck before sinking his teeth into you. You were cumming hard around him only making him want to bring another one from you.

He fucked into you like the animal he was until his knot pushed into your dripping cunt. His cum spurting out coating your walls white. He grunted trying to catch his breath as you moved under him. He chuckled gripping your thighs harshly once more “you’re not going anywhere until I know you’re full” he’d growl.

When he was shooting blanks, his cock raw he’d scoop you up in his arms taking you back to the car. He’d grab a blanket out nuzzling into your body as he left soft kisses all over.

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster fic #monster writing #monster x reader #terato #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster smut #monster #werewolf x reader #werewolf fic #werewolf smut #primal play

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gutsby · 3 months ago

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Wants and Needs

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Joel x Reader

Summary: Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Warnings: 18+. Protected piv. Explicit power imbalance in an exchange of sex for money, so dubcon, technically. Soft dom!Joel. Sex toys. Squirting. Oral (f!receiving). Overstimulation. Daddy kink. Age gap. Praise kink.

Note: Bohanan’s is a steakhouse in San Antonio, TX.

Word count: 8.4k

You wanted a car. Joel needed to cum.

It wasn’t the arrangement a girl your age should’ve made, but what could you do? Your dad drank half of your college funds away, and your mom was long gone.

The next best thing was Mr. Miller, your father’s boss. He’d understood better than anyone what money could buy. What it might do. For him, it was pleasure. For you, it was a future—or what little remained after bills and loans and exorbitantly-priced car repairs bled you dry.

You took the job at the firm on a whim. You didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, though your dad and Joel were. You didn’t want to be done with law school, though 3L had already long since ended, and that dreaded so-called ‘minimum competency’ test was drawing close on the horizon. In short, you couldn’t afford to pay for bar prep.

With Joel, you could.

It was true that tax law paid pretty well, but a part-time job would never really be enough when your family was treading water at all times. Your dad liked to gamble and drink, and your brothers got all of their brains from him.

You got the short end of the stick, plus the receiving end of another. Lucky for you, Joel’s felt pretty good going in.

Today you were somewhere south of Austin. Your truck wouldn’t start last week, so you’d agreed to come along on this business trip knowing full well what you planned on asking your boss as soon as you had a moment alone.

“CDP hearing at…9:45.” You checked the itinerary twice.

“Alright.” Joel nodded.

“Lunch with Javier, Ezra, and Dave at twelve.”

“Mhmm.”

“Phone call with Revenue Officer Acacius at 3:30.”

“For the…?”

“Martells.”

“Okay.”

“I finished Lucien Flores’ Form 433-F for your review and left notes—” You stopped to tap your finger on a short white pile of papers between you and Joel on the desk, “—in the margins. Still need bank statements from him.”

“Lovely.”

Joel eyed the stack at first, but his gaze strayed a little.

“You should probably plan to talk strategy with my dad before Mayor Garcia’s audit tomorrow, too. Looks like a couple non-cash contributions are being disputed now.”

For a second, your eyes flitted up to him, too. It was brief.

“Sure. When’s your daddy free?” he said.

You blinked, then scanned the schedule.

“Looks like five…or six, maybe. He’s got a consult with—”

“I wasn’t talking about your father.”

You looked back up. Joel was smirking, of course. His hand had drifted a comfortable, innocent distance past the papers and across the table, to you. The pair of you happened to be in one of the glass-paneled conference rooms nearest the hotel lobby, so he had to be discreet.

He never let his fingers stray too long on yours in public. Presently, his thumb grazed your knuckles extra slow.

Posing a question, maybe.

You didn’t have the time to be tactful now, unfortunately.

“I need $2,700.”

Joel, your boss, your daddy, whatever, had to pause at that. He didn’t move his hand immediately, but he did stare harder. Longer. He searched your face for the joke.

“$2,700?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” you answered out of habit, wincing only a little, “My truck stopped running last week, and it’s just…a lot.”

The cost. For Joel, it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket, but in your world, it was a make-or-break, fuck-your-whole-budget-for-the-next-six-months kind of bad. Suddenly, your cheeks felt warmer than they did before, and you forced yourself to look away. Peering out across the wide and gently rolling terrain of San Antonio and trying to pretend there was something thrilling to see. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated asking this.

“I can make the deposit tonight—” Joel started.

“No,” you interrupted. You wanted to turn but couldn’t. You just shook your head and kept staring out there, “Not now, I mean…I need to earn it over time, I just…”

You stumbled over the words. It was like your lips, your tongue, and your teeth were all suffering from the same sort of embarrassment pervading the brain, and you couldn’t bring your mouth to form the sentences right.

I’m not asking for a handout. I need to earn the money.

However ‘earning’ may have been grossly misconstrued in the context, it was a labor all the same. You didn’t love it, but you didn’t hate him, either. Joel was nice, albeit old enough to be your father, and it didn’t seem that he was nearly as predatory or perverse as he could’ve been. You’d been working for him for two months now, and the idea had been your own when the cash had gotten tight.

Back in April, you’d explained to him, calmly, that you couldn’t take the bar exam unless you got some extra money quick. That you wouldn’t accept his charity, but you’d pay him back in other ways. Joel had been against it at first—you were the daughter of his best friend, after all—but eventually, his carnal needs won out over his sense, as every other man would’ve done, you guessed.

At first, you’d started slow, but that hadn’t lasted very long. You fucked him regularly now, though never had you asked for an amount of cash this big out of nowhere.

Joel blinked and put a hand on his hip, like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say. The silver in his soft, dark locks shone more in this light. He’d lost the smirk.

“You’ve done…plenty.” Now sounding sheepish.

You tried to protest again; Joel stopped you.

“I mean it. Hey, look at me,” he said next.

You did, hesitatingly. You turned from the window, and out of instinct, folded your arms over your chest. Joel paced closer to you and then he was watching. Pausing.

Brushing your arm with his and glancing once over your shoulder to make sure no one else was around to see.

He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

When he pulled away, your skin was practically ablaze.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Joel,” he corrected, quiet, “And you’ve done enough. Let me cover the car just this once, okay? Sweetheart?”

You didn’t realize you were pivoting again. That your gut was doing somersaults and your heart was ready to climb up and out of your throat. Your neck was burning.

It wasn’t even anger you sensed was simmering under the skin until you turned back to him, and your eyes flashed with ire before the words were even spoken.

“I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller. I said I want to pay.”

“It’s Joel. And I said you’ve done enough, so—”

Ire morphed to something more in a blink.

You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Fine,” you huffed, suddenly exasperated, “If you’re so fucking opposed to me paying my way for this one simple thing, I’ll get another guy. Forget I asked.”

It was a low blow, for sure. Joel knew how badly you’d wanted this to stay between just you and him—and he would never dream of seeing you ‘earning your keep’ with anyone else. His expression said as much as soon as he’d heard your words; his whole face hardened at once.

But then you’d turned to leave. You didn’t care what he wanted to tell you, and if you did, you certainly weren’t brave enough to stick around to hear Joel say it then.

So you left. He had a full, busy day ahead of him anyway.

You woke up wet.

In an effort to avoid your boss, you’d run errands all day. Buried your nose in a sea of Civil Procedure notes as soon as you got a second alone, almost vomited seeing the Erie Doctrine, and went back to your hotel room to try and study there. Once you had, you napped instead.

Now your clothes stuck to your skin; the sheets around you were soaked. You peered over the big white duvet holding your body interred and saw smoke overhead.

Or steam.

Yes, definitely steam. It was drifting from the bathroom, where the door was thrown open. You shifted up to sit.

“Tess!” you yelled, “Shut the goddamn door, I’m boiling.”

As a law clerk, you weren’t afforded the luxury of a suite to yourself, so you shared it with the other new grads on work trips like these. Tess Servopoulos loved long, hot showers and never closed the fucking door. You groaned.

And, feeling depleted of all energy from your studies and the stress and the steam searing every inch of your skin, you flopped back in the bed. You kicked the covers off your legs. You’d just lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead, when an awful, fresh realization dawned.

You glanced at the clock—3:37.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed.

You were supposed to meet your dad at two to get some paperwork signed. You needed to have that filed with the court by four. He was probably engaged somewhere else by now, whether it be a client, a conference, or a couple white lines in the bathroom of a partners-only club downtown, and you wouldn’t have a hope of reaching him here. You rubbed your face and groaned again.

You’d set an alarm for 1:30—you knew you had.

Where the hell was your phone? Why was it so warm? What if he’d called? Aw fuck, he’s probably blown that thing up to hell and back by now. Maybe he was drunk. He had to be. Where was Tess? Where were your pants?

You’d made it up to your feet, clumsily, and faced a full-length mirror. Your bottoms were gone. You closed your eyes and screamed inside, remembering why they were.

“Glad you’re getting some use out of this.”

The second you heard it, your lids flew open. You turned.

And, standing in the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light—holding the culprit, your vibrator, like a prize—was Joel. Naked as the day he was born, save for one thin towel around his hips, and grinning. Moisture glistened on his chest and pooled about his feet, and his hair was smooth, tamed, and combed back neatly from his face.

He waved your silicone toy in the air, and immediately, you regretted giving him your room key the other day.

“I thought we agreed you’d wait for me—”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your voice was thick with sleep. Joel’s own was slow, dulcet, and kind as it always was, even when teasing. When you grit your teeth, he just set the toy aside.

“I’m sorry. Bad timing. I saw your—”

“No.” You threw up both hands at once, suddenly out of breath and fucks to give, “You know what? I don’t care. You need to go. I have to be down at the courthouse—”

In twenty minutes. You cut yourself short and hurried off to find shoes. You could wear other pants. Ask another attorney to sign the forms if you couldn’t reach your dad. Forget that his boss and yours had just caught you with the vibrator he’d bought you last month and try not to feel too humiliated knowing he knew what you’d been doing. It didn’t matter—Joel didn’t matter. You slid on a mismatched pair of slacks and set off toward the door.

Then you had to stop. Joel beat you there, quick as ever.

“Listen. Hey.”

“Will you stop?!”

You pushed at his big and wet, stupidly broad chest. You felt the small grey hairs on his pecs tickle your palms, and for a second, you thought you heard a chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me late—”

“Hey, hey,” Joel said again. Of course it sounded fatherly, “I already signed the POA for Morales, hon, you’re good.”

You’re good.

“You what?” You stared at him in disbelief. How did he even know you needed Frankie’s power of attorney signed in the first place? You figured your dad would’ve mentioned it, but still, it wasn’t really Joel’s form to sign.

“The case is mine now,” he clarified, reading that look, “Wasn’t my first pick, but it is what it is. And your dad—”

Your dad was probably lagging wildly behind on his own caseload, so he’d pushed one off on his friend. Again.

“You can’t keep picking up his slack,” you gritted out, “One of these days it’s gonna bite you both in the ass. You know he shouldn’t be forcing these jobs on you.”

“I offered.”

“You caved.”

“He’s my best friend, what do you expect me to do?”

“Not let him use you! He’s making you feel bad for him.”

“And what if I did? What if I did pity the bastard?”

You scoffed. Then winced, inwardly.

I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller.

From the look on Joel’s face, he seemed to be remembering the same. He shook his head.

“That’s not…” he trailed off. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and started to move from the door, deflating some.

His other arm extended to you, wordlessly, and already anticipated what was sure to follow. You swatted him off, then walked to the bed. You considered sitting but didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms like you always did and turned away, facing the window with a cool, flat affect.

By now, Joel knew better than to take that for what it seemed. He crossed the room to you, treading softly.

His voice turned gentle again, like an apology: “Honey…”

But your gaze was already fixed outside. You frowned.

“Darlin’,” Joel continued, undeterred, “Come on.”

And you didn’t need to see his face to hear the rest: ‘Look at me, please,’ with eyes all comfort and warmth.

“Don’t you have a phone call with an R.O. or something?” Briefly, you recalled Acacius and a stream of other items from the checklist you’d covered that morning, and you had to stop yourself then from straying too far. You blinked once, just as Joel was approaching from behind.

“I cancelled,” he said.

You sighed, “Mr. Miller…”

You knew he hated doing that.

“Joel,” he pressed. Adding, “Something came up.”

You wouldn’t even ask. You shouldn’t care. You felt him standing there, fanning hot breaths across the nape of your neck, and you really couldn’t have taken that worse. You visibly tensed, hands balling into fists at your sides, and—hell, he wouldn’t quit moving now, would he?—Joel bent down. He hesitated, as if gauging your reaction in time, then descended further. He kissed your shoulder.

You cracked; it never took much from him.

For all your inane, ancillary plays at feigning indifference, one movement of Joel’s mouth and your resolve was lost. You clung to words, weakly, but all the rest fell away.

“We don’t…want your charity. Me or my dad. Alright?”

“I know.”

Joel kissed your skin again, then pulled at the strap of your blouse. It fell limply away, and his lips reattached.

Exactly when he’d walked you back to the bed, you couldn’t be sure. By the third or fourth kiss, your stomach was tight, knees weak, and your eyes drawing closed; it didn’t matter to you or to him what had passed before. Your bodies found the bed and blended together.

Tangling, in a way. Tearing blindly at clothes and not saying too much apart from Joel’s soft, sweet words:

“That’s it.”

“I know.”

“Good girl.”

Good girl when he kissed you. Good girl when he stripped you bare. Good girl when his hands roamed the broad, naked expanse of your body and let your own do the same to him. Good girl when your fingers hooked the outline of the towel and tugged it away, your vision filled with a sight you’d come to like more and more each day.

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmured. He cradled your head while you gripped his base, “‘S’yours, baby. All yours.”

Yours. Mine. You weren’t sure you had the sense or self-possession to even know what that meant, especially here. Joel wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t a lover, at least not in the traditional sense. He wore dark wool suits like your father and worked from dawn until dusk every day, practicing law for longer than you’d been alive. Still, the smile above you was sweet. It coaxed you gently as you slid your hand up and down his length, like he sensed this was more like a lesson for you. Learning experience.

“Remember, spit a little first,” he instructed. Then, to demonstrate this point, he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them quickly. He slipped his touch down to yours and met your gaze while he joined you there.

He rubbed and slicked himself up and he did it with ease. You followed his lead and watched his face contort—crow’s feet pinching even tighter at the sides of his eyes as pleasure began to pool in his gut. He looked pretty. You’d never thought to tell him this, but Joel really had an unparalleled face. It was an old and beautiful thing. For this reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away, maybe to wet your own fingers. Instead, you slipped your hand between your legs, where his hips had come to rest. You worked a slow, light touch against your folds; you were drenched, and it didn’t take long for your fingers to be, too. You moved them back to Joel’s cock.

“Like this?” you ventured.

The man answered with a grunt, at first. Then a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Joel nodded, quiet but emphatic. Trying not to smile too big as he let your touch take over for his, “Just like that, sweet pea. Get it nice an’ wet for daddy.”

You wanted to whimper at that. Something must’ve flashed in your eyes at the intonation of the last word, and the look must’ve suffused your whole expression, because the next thing you knew, Joel was lowering his body to yours. Petting your hair, letting you rub on his shaft as fast as your soft, lithe hands could manage.

“Feel that, baby? Feel how much daddy missed you?”

You did.

Your brow pinched, and you wanted more of that. More from him: those tender, edifying words of praise being mumbled your way while your touch worked him over. Maybe you could’ve helped it, but then again, in this state, maybe you couldn’t—you whimpered for him.

Wriggling your hips against the bed to get your warmth pressed flush with his own, and squeezing him tighter:

“In me, daddy. Please.”

You angled his cock in your trembling grip to plead as much. You knew he liked being the one to push in the first time, so you didn’t move too far with that push, but you begged him with your gaze. You felt him tense a bit.

And just when you sensed he might let you have your way, he moved off. Down. Sliding his torso away from your own, to go lower on the bed, and smirking again.

“I think she needs my tongue first, doesn’t she?”

You wanted to nod. Instead, you flinched. You crawled away from his hold before it could secure itself firmly on either one of your legs, and you had to snag your bottom lip between your teeth to contain that blossoming need. It almost spilled from your mouth in a moan before Joel’s could reach your lower half. Then you scrambled to sit up

“No,” you choked out.

This wasn’t new. While you shook your head, Joel lifted a brow and stood from the bed. He reached behind him.

The night stand.

You closed your eyes.

“This isn’t…supposed to be for me.” you sighed.

In a second, Joel was back where he started, and you didn’t have to steal a glance through your lids to know what he was holding. Slotting himself gently into place.

“Don’t,” he started, sharp, “—say that. I mean it.”

You knew he meant it, but you also knew better than to accept at face value what he said, moving down on you.

This wasn’t part of the deal. Joel’s money was meant to serve his pleasure, not yours. Letting him take you any other way seemed to blur the lines between transaction and affection, and though you’d done this before, it still didn’t feel right. You couldn’t bear having his focus here.

Evidently, though, he could. He’d snatched your vibrator from the night table and lowered his torso to your legs, lips twitching the tiniest bit. ‘Open up. Let me see her.’

Joel was on his stomach, eyes glowing with intrigue.

“Let me see how much she’s missed me, baby.”

The grey matter in your brain might’ve trickled through your ears—the whole thing went to mush at his words. You pushed at his hands, then the top of his head, but clearly, your will was weak. You wanted this. Needed it.

“That’s a good girl. Let daddy have it,” Joel drawled.

You wanted to cry. Or maybe hide. His index and middle fingers prodded at your folds, pulling them apart, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you’d stopped breathing. Joel kissed the slope of your mound with a quiet kind of reverence. The salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin brushed your clit, and your back arched reflexively. Then, remembering why you’d come to this arrangement in the first place, you felt a wave of guilt supplant that pleasure.

You clawed at his head and shook your own, weakly.

“No. W-wanna make you feel good,” you choked out.

Not me.

Not here.

Just let it—

“Fuck,” you keened through your teeth. Joel’s lips made contact with your slick, drooling cunt and, in a second, sucked your nub in between them. He flicked his tongue.

Joel groaned, then pulled away to meet your gaze.

“Feels plenty good f’me,” he assured you in a murmur. Eyes glossy, “She’s so fuckin’ sweet, honey. So pretty.”

Then, as if to punctuate his point, he slid his tongue down the whole wet mess of your slit, and he moaned. He curled the muscle and invaded your sticky, sensitive, precious warm flesh with vigor and force—maybe a little desperation—and you whined at the feeling. Your toes curled tight. It was doubtlessly a sight to see: Joel’s old and weathered head against your young and supple skin, the wiry greys of his chin rubbing your cunt like no man’s his age should’ve been. He took you gently. Forked his fingers over your folds to hold you open for him and then, over and over and over again, just licking stripes. Squelching noises only seemed to goad him on while he buried his nose and savored your taste without reserve. Your stomach clenched with that pleasure, then swelled.

“That’s my girl—so good for me,” Joel said, as though reminding you, gently, it was okay to relish the feeling.

Once more, he suckled your clit in his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue in a quick back-and-forth motion, and the next sensation hit without a breath of warning.

Your belly twisted again, then flushed with hot pleasure.

“My— fuck,” you cried, shuddering with a climax you didn’t know was coming. You held his head and whined.

Joel’s tongue didn’t stop. Your vision blurred. Whatever reprieve you might’ve hoped to find came in the form of his lips drawing back, momentarily, only to sponge little kisses on your still-pulsing heat. Your body jolted back.

“I c— I’m done. I’m done,” you blurted out.

Joel nodded against you. Humming through his kisses:

“I know. Keep going.”

Keep going.

So simple.

Still, you couldn’t breathe. Your sight was inundated with stars. You felt Joel’s stubble on your slit again, only this time, the pleasure was tripled. Your legs trembled, and your hands made fists in his hair. Joel kept on kissing.

And kissed again, again, and again, until your fingers in his locks pulled taut to the roots and your hips were bucking up in his face: ‘Too much, t—oh fuckfuckfuck.’

Then came a buzz. Skirting your legs in a blink, before diving to meet Joel’s mouth on your clit. You shrieked.

“I know, I know,” Joel joined, as though soothing a wound while he maneuvered the vibrator. Lifting his head and then kissing your thigh, “I know. You’re alright.”

You wanted to sob; you felt ready to burst. You trusted Joel’s judgment but had never been subjected to this sort of pleasure. What if it was more than you could take?

“I’m here.”

Joel’s words were slow to crawl off his tongue, but their intent was clear. You writhed once more, and he was kissing your skin, rubbing your thighs, and taking the toy to your clit with a warm, devoted touch. He wasn’t cruel.

He had a glint in his gaze when you met it, like he knew you wouldn’t accept this feeling alone—but he wanted you to. He wanted the indulgence to be your own and an end in itself. There was care in his touch, tender praise with every caress, and you guessed this was intentional. Joel needed you to know this was more than only his.

You felt more naked than you’d ever been: soaking the sheets with your last release, fresh arousal trickling out, Joel’s spit mixing with your nectar and sweat and pressing you down in the bed. And nudging you, gently.

“‘S’okay, baby. You’re alright. That feels nice, doesn’t i—”

“Kiss me.”

It came out faster than you could even try and stop it. You weren’t sure why you said it. The words were acerbic on your tongue—you hated ever sounding needy—but then your mind and your mouth and your worries were all silenced at once when Joel came clambering up for you.

His lips were wet and grinning as he kissed you. He held the vibrator hostage between your legs while his body pressed tight against yours. His movements slowed.

Then, as if he’d crawled in your head and read your mind:

“It’s okay to need me, baby. It’s okay to want this.”

His hips made that assurance even clearer. Joel reached down and took the vibrator again, increasing the friction between your groin and his while he pressed the buzzing toy to your clit. You whined into his mouth at the feeling.

Your eyes rolled back, and the pleasure soared. This morning, you might’ve bristled at the words he’d just spoken, but here, in this bed, it felt okay. It felt safe.

Joel felt safe, for once, and you weren’t sure how to keep that idea from sticking—how to reconcile the notion of swapping sex for cash with a man for months on end, and then this. Your stomach churned. He held your face and kissed you more, and your clit throbbed and ached. Before you could ponder your thoughts a second longer, a white-hot pleasure washed over, and you came again.

“Good girl,” Joel cooed.

Throbbing even more this time.

“That’s a sweet girl. That’s my baby.”

All but aching with desire. Feeling it double.

“Cum for daddy, that’s it. Keep going.”

Feeling it trickle down your legs.

“She’s feelin’ real good, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You whined. Felt something splinter between your thighs and then more of it, more of you and that slick, oozing pleasure and Joel’s groans, overjoyed—‘Making a fucking mess’a daddy, isn’t she? She feel that good?’—and by ‘that good’ you guessed it was more than normal.

This was more warmth than usual. Somewhere in the midst of your own mind-numbing pleasure, you’d let out a spurt, sticky and wet. It now coated the hairs on Joel’s tummy, and while his skin shone, his eyes were brighter. He flitted a look to you, gaze flaring, and slid down. Low.

Back to where he was before. Moving the buzzing pink bullet aside and letting his mouth assume its place.

Of course, you yelped.

“Joel!”

You winced, both from saying his name and feeling so raw. Joel grinned at the sound and suckled your clit.

It was drenched. You and Joel, too, were doused all over and practically gleaming under the rays of late afternoon sun then pouring through the window. For a second, you cast a look outside like you had before, but it was only to brace your body for the bliss at hand. You stared and felt a crude, carnal shockwave seize you head to toe. It traveled fast and made you release, again, or else just continue the same flow as before—and this time, into Joel’s waiting mouth. He lapped at you feverishly now.

He squeezed your legs and licked you dry. He worked in merciless circles, like his life might have depended on making you stay at this peak. All the while, you were tearing at his hair. Riding his face as your body fell apart.

That was alright. This pleasure was yours for now, but there was still time yet to make it worth his while, you reasoned in a half-intoxicated state. Your legs vibrated as you started to crawl—limp—back up in the bed and, numb with elation and a desperate need to please, you stretched your arm toward the night stand. You huffed.

You reached blindly but got it. The box. Weak fingers found the first plastic strip and tore yourself a square. Then, lifting it to Joel, you ignored the last stabs of pleasure between your legs. This was fun, but still his.

“Go on,” you told him, breathless, “Fuck me.”

Joel quirked a brow. He took the condom, still panting himself. He brought the latex to his tip out of habit, then:

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Your head was swimming. Somewhere entrenched in the furthest recesses of your brain you could feel it, that dizzying, self-centered pleasure. You pushed it back.

You suffocated it, and you spread your legs wide for him. You let him lay you down and tug the rubber over his cock, then nudge at your hips to situate himself in just the right way. How he liked it. He seemed to be content, and your heart swelled. In this airy, buoyant state, you felt more at ease to speak, sure that he’d understand.

“This should cover some of it, right?” you panted out.

Joel slowed.

“What?”

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eager to keep going. But you steeled yourself, just barely, then.

“Sex. Now,” you said, “It’ll cover some of my car repairs.”

Instead of nodding like you’d expected, Joel only blinked. Then you opened your mouth to speak again, and his body stopped you cold. He planted a hand beside your head on the pillow and raised his hips; you felt his heat leave with it. You reached for his backside immediately, to try and pull him back into that pre-missionary position he’d held, when Joel brushed you off. His face was hard.

“Money?” he quipped.

“Yeah,” you started, then remembered how you talked outside of the bedroom, when he seemed more serious, “We’ll go again. All week. You can even put it in my—”

Joel balked, like you’d just slapped him across the face.

“No,” he said, sharp.

“No,” he repeated, more to himself this second time. Almost as though he couldn’t believe what you were suggesting—and making him guilty by association.

Joel clenched your pillow like a vice and shook his head.

“You’re not getting paid for this,” he finished, and when your gaze penetrated his, confused, he squeezed harder.

“Thought you wanted it.” Joel added, almost shamefully.

“I do! I do…I just—” you sputtered.

“What? Think you need to offer up a week and a half of fucking to make it worth my time? Is that what this is?”

Well, in a way, maybe.

You weren’t sure what to say. Former dizzying bliss was dwindling fast, and now you were facing him cold. Sober.

Increasingly irritated, again.

“I just need money, Mr. Miller—”

“It’s Joel, hon,” he bit back, for the fourth time that day. His eyes flared with something more, maybe annoyance, but then he was tempering it just as fast. He ran a hand through his damp grey hair and shook his head, pausing, “It’s Joel. I know you need the money, baby, but it’s—”

“It’s what we agreed,” you protested, “What I need—”

“Well it’s not what I want!” Joel barked.

Anger surged again, and this time, evidently, the feeling was harder to keep at bay. He was scarcely able to rein in his features, settling on a grave little scowl instead of a frown, and he sucked in shorter, shallower breaths through his nose. You felt him let your pillow go.

“Forget it—the cash.” Joel grit his teeth even tighter, “Forget these payments and the goddamn allowance I’ve had you on. I can’t do that anymore. It’s not right.”

Your heart sank.

You didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Joel’s voice resumed on its own.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need, sweetheart…”

He stopped. Silence followed, then stretched on for one full, terrible minute. In that interim, you could see his chest rise and fall fast. He was trying to slow it down.

“Whatever you need paid off, I’ll do it. Anything. You don’t have to touch me again. It was wrong of me to allow that in the first place,” he rejoined, tone cooling.

Sounding guilty, too.

Above you, Joel didn’t seem keen on holding your gaze, so he fixed his stare someplace on the headboard instead. Then he moved off your body, slowly.

In spite of the distance he attempted to give, he was still crowding your space. Looming large and bare and weary as you’d ever seen him, knees shuffling back awkwardly through a mass of cotton sheets while his eyes shifted low. Away. The rest of him filled your lungs with a heady cologne scent and your stomach with a thousand tiny blades—you were hurt that he wasn’t sticking to his end of the bargain. You were mad that he was trying to claim the moral high ground now, after everything you’d done.

Mostly, though, you were just upset that you felt like you were losing someone close. That Joel Miller was more of a confidant, friend, and father figure than your own dad had ever been, and that got all fucked up over money. Your lips pursed, and something stung behind your eyes when you reached for him again. Your throat stung, too.

“The reason I agreed to do this,” Joel went on, and the ache in your head worsened when he winced from your touch, “was ‘cause I didn’t want you getting ‘help’ from anyone else. I was selfish. And that’s not an excuse…”

He started to move off, hand dropping from yours.

“…but it’s the truth. I’m sorry.”

At length, Joel found your gaze, and the eyes said it all over again: I’m sorry. You might’ve believed them, too.

But you were you, and you couldn’t help but press:

“Why?”

Your voice was small. Joel was trying to stand from the bed, but you grabbed at his hand again and made him meet your eyes. Confusion was painted across his own.

Kneeling in front of him, curious, you tried to clarify.

“Why’d it have to be you?”

Judging from Joel’s expression as soon as you did, you got the sense that this question made him feel dumb. He frowned, but he held your stare and answered anyway.

“Because I wanted you first,” he replied, “Before all this.”

Your stomach twisted. He did?

You didn’t need to ask twice to know what that meant. What he’d said, in words and with a look, was enough. Still, it was always in you to know more, to be sure, so you crept a little closer. You let your hands roam up and—

“No,” Joel said, as soon as your fingers reached his side.

You’d just wanted to feel him, maybe prod him further on what he’d just said through acts that didn’t require verbal articulation, but he refused. He backed up in bed.

“This isn’t about—” he started, low.

“Sex. I know,” you answered for him. Then your touch grazed his thigh, and you were dying to have more. To be told in a way you both knew and understood. To touch, “You want me to believe you really…liked me before?”

“More than you know.”

There was that blunt, open pragmatism in the Joel you’d always known. Perhaps guided by natural inclinations, or else your hand on his leg, drawing higher. Moving closer.

Showing skepticism through your eyes and the hint of a playful, disbelieving smile starting to curl at your lips.

“When you met me?” you teased.

You’d known of Joel for years, and had met him a couple times as a teenager at various firm holiday functions. You probably hadn’t exchanged more than ten words altogether before starting law school a few years back.

“Hell no,” Joel answered, fast, “When you started work.”

His gaze was timid again. It was fixed on his thigh where you’d started to slide your index up the warm, muscled expanse of his skin, and though you could tell he was more than hesitant, you wanted to know. Wanted to feel.

It wasn’t so easy convincing a man you’d been working for—and fucking, largely without feeling—to pay bills that you wanted him here and now. But you needed to try.

That maybe, somewhere along the way, you’d come to want him, too. That cash wasn’t the only thing at stake.

You crawled between his legs, then straddled his hips.

Your lips smiling still as you did: “How much?”

Joel blinked back. Dazed.

“What do you m—”

“How much did you like me? When did it start?”

Joel sighed when your heat rubbed his. He tried grabbing ahold of your hips, when you glanced down and saw he’d already discarded the last condom. You couldn’t have that if you wanted to continue this talk.

You reached back and grabbed another.

“Darlin’,” Joel said, strained, “We shouldn’t…”

“Says who?”

You’d already worked the rubber halfway down his length when his heavy-lidded gaze locked with yours. You saw lust there, mixed with worry. Curiosity. You kept going.

“Says your dad, if he ever finds out what I’ve done to his little girl,” Joel replied, closing his eyes at the feeling.

You had the latex worked down to the base of him when you smiled. Felt him seize your hips, lids fluttering open to find you in their soft, glossy stare, and you felt better. Like clockwork, you went together and joined, at last. You felt Joel squeeze your backside and groan when you first sank down to take him whole. You shuddered, too.

But you tried to steady your voice as you spoke.

“Semantics, Miller,” you told him, only faltering a little, “Things you are ‘doing’ to his little girl. Not just ‘done.’”

There, you had a point. Surely your father would have had some choice words for his business partner and best friend if he knew how far Joel’s cock was currently stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. It might even piss him off, if he weren’t too drunk to receive the news himself.

Joel blinked hard, signaling that he knew this too, and presently watched your body swallow all eight inches at once, after you’d raised yourself up to just the tip and sank back. Your ass fell to his groin with an obscene sort of squelch, and your walls involuntarily clenched. You both let out sounds of pleasure, and held on tighter.

Your hands on his chest for stability, while one of his own held your hip and the other fumbled around for your clit, gliding through the sheen of your arousal on his front. You rocked your hips and felt how much it really was—how you’d drenched his whole abdomen with your last release. You smiled at this and stared, pleased with the pretty, sticky display you’d laid bare all over Joel’s belly.

When Joel wasn’t watching you ride, he stared there too.

“Not so ‘little’ anymore,” he mused quietly. Then he looked up to find your eyes, seeing them as glazed as his, “And I ‘like’ you, hon. Present tense. Not just…‘liked.’”

Alright.

“How much?”

You wanted to say it with some confidence. Nonchalance. Then Joel’s cock nicked a particularly sensitive ridge inside your walls, and that thought was gone as quick as it had come. You gripped the flesh of his upper chest and rolled your hips harder. Let out your breaths in little fractured whimpers while you rode him more. Another sweet feeling twisted low in your gut.

With just a glimpse of that, Joel moved his hand from your heat up past your hips and waist, to squeeze one of your breasts. His fingers were wet. You could feel them, equal parts warmth and wanton yearning as the pads pinched your nipple and gave it a firm tug. He grunted.

Clearly, there was more to it than just the touching and feeling for him—Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of your skin as it glistened with the arousal he’d just smeared. He thumbed at the wet, stiff peak and swallowed. And, just as you were about to adjust the rhythm of your hips bouncing on him, his free hand joined the first and pulled you down. You cried feeling his cock wedge deep; your hands fell to either side of his body when he yanked your face down to his. He fucked up into you from underneath

You squealed, soft, “Joel!”

He kissed your open mouth. Made you lay flat overtop him while he fucked your dripping hole. You whimpered.

“Joel—” Again.

“I like you so much, sweetheart,” he said, in answer to your last question, lips close, “Does she like me too?”

As if to save him the trouble of a swift reply in words, your body told him instead. You squeezed around his cock, and with another desperate cry, bit his shoulder. He hammered your poor, aching pussy with a groan of his own, and he held your body down to his. Grinning.

Kissing the side of your head while he pounded away. Stroking your hair, “Is that a ‘yes’? She like her daddy?”

Drool was bound to slip out of your mouth any second. Your lips were locked in a permanent ‘o’ while he drilled from under you on the bed. Still, you managed to nod.

“Uh-huh—oh, fuck, fuck, da-ddy. Yes, daddy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as another blistering wave seared your insides. Joel was relentless with his thrusts now, driving himself in and out without stopping or slowing. He must’ve known you were close. He was too, judging by the sounds of his grunts and hushed tone.

“Let daddy take care of her then, baby. All of her. OK?”

His words trickled through your ear as sweet as honey. His cock was less kind, but that was okay—you liked it.

You loved him here. Taking care of you. Her. Everything.

And, in this half-coherent state of fuckdrunk pleasure, you were tempted to give in to whatever he begged.

It would be so easy. Joel cradled your face in his hand, practically beaming with pride while he fucked you over and over, and your legs were spread, walls were stretched, eyes practically rolling back, and you felt more secure than you’d been in ages. Joel could care for you.

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek and hummed.

“Daddy’s got you,” he said, voice all warm assurance.

Nudging you closer and closer to your peak—and perhaps some other form of surrender. Release.

Submission?

Joel wouldn’t be so bad for that.

He could fuck you well and leave you content. Make you forget what it meant to be strapped for cash and saddled with guilt and worry over bills every month. Joel could provide, for now. His eyes said as much; his fingers threaded through your hair and rubbed your scalp. He cupped your face, all fifty-six years in his own looking as handsome as they’d ever been. He felt good. He felt safe.

You were hot. Your legs trembled and ached.

“Is that something you’d want?” he pressed.

And, still holding Joel’s gaze with a heavy-lidded, fucked out look of your own, you surprised yourself by nodding, slowly. Your body was spent, but the curve on your lips, then his, was sincere; Joel nodded back as he grinned.

“Yeah? You mean it, sweetheart?”

He flipped you both over and got on top, never breaking apart. You wound your legs around his back and let him cup your cheeks again, and from this angle, you felt it. You wouldn’t try and fight it now; you just kissed him.

Then you came for a third time, walls clenching and squeezing and gushing again, smearing Joel’s front as he fucked you right through it. His groans were a little more subdued than yours, but in their timbre, you could hear his desperation. He emptied himself inside you, in the condom, and kept holding your face all the while.

You felt a low pulse between your legs. Then another. And another. And another. Joel’s hips began to still, his hefty greying belly bumping lightly against your skin while he drained what was left in his balls, and you swore that his bones might’ve creaked from the sheer force of those final thrusts. He seemed exhausted. Somehow, though, the man looked even better in this state—haggard and worn as he was, the face above your own was soft. Smiling, faintly, and kissing you constantly.

You couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it; you were far too tired and fucked out of your mind to protest right now.

Joel trailed a path with his lips from your chin to your ear. He kissed the hinge of your jaw and sank himself deeper.

“Mr.—” But you caught yourself, shortly, “…Joel.”

He lifted his head, not apologetic in the least.

“Maybe just one more—” he started.

“No,” you finished for him, sharp.

Still smiling, but with your eyes on him in a thinly veiled threat. Joel accepted that and kept his dick where it was.

What followed was gradual but natural enough. A little awkward as you broached that uncharted territory of remaining in the other’s presence after the deed was done, but Joel didn’t seem like he wanted to leave the bed, and you had nowhere else to go until dinner with your dad at eight. There was a moment you wanted to separate your body from Joel’s, if only to slip off to the bathroom by yourself, but the man just held you closer.

“You think your old man will mind if I joined tonight?”

Here the fuck we go.

“He’ll kill you.”

You pushed hard against his hold without getting so much as an inch of give. Joel had to fight back a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“Because,” you began in a huff. Wriggling with very little success in his arms, while you were pinned in missionary, “I smell like you. You smell like me. My dad’s a drunk, but he can sniff stuff like that out in a heartbeat. Too risky.”

You punctuated those words with a still more serious look, but before you could nudge at his chest again or say something more, you were forced to swallow a scream. Joel’s grip tightened even more, and he moved to stand up from the bed—with you still in his arms and impaled on his cock. He started to walk to the bathroom.

“Great. Shower’s got plenty of room for the two of us.”

“Joel!”

“Glad I don’t have to keep reminding you of my name.”

His voice was smug. Your gaze was hard. Joel was still hard himself, amazingly, and you almost groaned when you felt the head of his cock bump somewhere soft and sensitive inside. He toted you into the big, bright room.

“If not tonight, how ‘bout tomorrow? Just you and me.”

He would never stop this shit. He reached for the faucet.

“Still too dangerous. You know that,” you chided. Your resolve only wavered a little when you felt the hot water start to pelt at your back. Joel closed the glass door, “Besides…I need to focus on figuring my shit out right now. Work and bills and getting myself a rental car soon.”

Joel paused. He turned, still holding you.

Then, just as swiftly as he’d stepped inside, he carried you right back out of the shower. You whined in protest.

He took you over to the bed and set you down. He left to find his wallet and keys. You might’ve been tempted to voice your displeasure in some other way—namely, by marching back to the bathroom, locking the door, and bathing alone—but before you could speak a word, Joel was back. He looked down at you and held out his fist.

“What’s—”

“Your dad and me’ll be up to our eyeballs in bullshit working the Garcia audit tomorrow—and I know you don’t want him seeing us leave together anywhere—so we can meet at Bohanan’s at six. How does that sound?”

You blinked.

“I don’t��have a car.”

Joel opened his hand. Keys dropped out.

In a single glance, you could see they weren’t his.

Joel drove a garish Super Duty F-450, not an Audi. The cogs were quick to turn in your head, but clearly not fast enough, because Joel was closing your fingers over the keys before you could breathe so much as a syllable to him. When you did, it came out more like a stutter. Palpably mad but far too rattled to get much out:

“Joel, I-I can’t—”

“I’ve been meaning to buy one anyw—”

“You’re insane,” you started to push the keys back, and for some reason, your heart was thudding extra hard as you did. You went on, unblinking, “You don’t…need to.”

“I want to.”

Joel’s hands were warm when he pressed both of his palms to secure yours between them. He could probably feel the way it shook a little, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was too busy trying to find, and hold, your own while you swallowed and stared and racked your numb brain for any words of defiance. At length, nothing came.

All you could do was meet that look. In the soft brown irises above, you could see it all—the need to comfort, and care, and provide where he could, offer better than the hand you’d been dealt and maybe, interspersed with those feelings somewhere, a simpler need in him to give.

For once, you wanted to believe it.

Fun fact: This fic was inspired by true events‼️💯 My life 😫🤪😤😈 Like reader, my truck is also busted as SHIT and needs $2,700 in repairs!!!! Unlike reader, I will not be sucking and fucking Joel Miller to recoup my losses (not asking for donations, just wanted to give y’all a giggle at my misfortune LOL)

#ENOUGH BULLSHITTING WE NEED MORE GLUCOSE GUARDIAN JOEL ON THE TL NEOWWWWW #🫵🏼😐#i’m begging y’all to write more for this very particular and off-putting dynamic bc i love it dearly #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

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