rav3n-pascal22

[rav3n-pascal22]

arms. face. shoulders. waist. neck. kill me, free me, i can’t go on like this.

[rav3n-pascal22]

i'd rather go blind (oneshot)

cheater! joel miller x f!reader

you and joel have been loving each other the best you can, living in a small texan town and watching the world go by. but, what happens when you meet up after work, only to see him flirting with another woman?

(a oneshot inspired by i'd rather go blind by etta james, my queen)

Somethin’ told me it was over, when I saw you and that girl talking.

The rough and tumble bar wavered in front of your eyes as tears gathered, threatening to seep over and spill down your cheeks. The smells of liquor and greasy food suddenly made you feel so sick you thought you might hurl right then and there. Your heels ached from your cowgirl boots, little denim shorts chafing the inside of your thighs as you wobbled on the spot. The jukebox country songs that Joel liked to line dance to spilled into your ears and made you feel dizzy. The cause of all this? Joel fucking Miller.

As soon as you had entered the bar, anticipating a quiet drink with your boyfriend after a long week at work, he had stood out like a beacon. Wearing the nice flannel you had bought him for Christmas and his usual worn blue jeans, he looked as sexy as he normally did. His graying chestnut curls, which you had convinced him to grow out, fell loose over the back of his neck. His beard, which you had helped him cleanup for his business meeting today, was covered by his hand as he rubbed over his chin.

You expected him to turn and greet you with his usual warm half smile and a raised hand. Instead, there he stood, completely oblivious and leaning against the bar, chatting with a cute little blonde thing and looking far too familiar with her.

You watched his lips move, forming letters and words, but you couldn’t hear anything. He wasn’t looking at you, anyways. She leaned forward, and you watched as she laid a teasing slap on his shoulder and tilted her head back in laughter. Joel was smirking, eyeing the exposed line of her throat in a way you hadn’t imagined he would do with anyone but you.

He reached up and grabbed the hand on his shoulder, and for a split second, you thought he might push her away and turn to you with a grin. Instead, he laced their fingers together on his chest and held them there, right over his heart.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, eyes flicking from him to the girl and then back again. The coarse grain of the bar counter was slick with the condensation running off the blonde’s drink, and her fingers dripped with it as she took a sip.

Joel watched her do that, too, before leaning forward and taking the drink out of her hand. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, before lifting the cup to steal a taste. Your heart started beating so fast, you thought it might pound out of your chest and land on the floor, exposing it's shattered remains to the bargoers around you.

As he raised the cup to his lips, you saw the exact moment his eyes lifted from her and found you, standing near the door and looking like a deer caught in headlights. You felt immune to the hustle and bustle of this little country-western themed bar, senses growing quiet as Joel’s gaze zeroed in on you, eyes growing wide and shocked.

In the same moment, the other girl was laying her hand on the inside of his denim-clad thigh and tipping forward to whisper in his ear. You felt a wave of nausea roll through you, and you turned quickly so you wouldn’t have to see what you knew was happening behind you.

Steps shaky and stomach roiling, you tripped out of the bar and into the sidewalk. The country music cut off abruptly as the door behind you swung shut. The humid summer night air hit you like a slap to the face, and you realised you were gasping for breath. The scattered smokers on the sidewalk stared at you through their white clouds of nicotine.

You looked down to avoid their scrutiny, and studied the grass growing through the cracks in the pavement, observing how your boots, the ones you bought for Joel, scuffed on the cement. Mindlessly, you shuffled forward and tried to quiet your shaky breathing and even louder mind. You needed a distraction, and you needed it quick.

You numbly pitched forward to ask for a cigarette, barely feeling the man in jeans and a Dallas Cowboy’s shirt sliding the paper into your hand and passing you a light. Fumbling the lighter, you brought the cig up to your lips and lit it, inhaling the sweet nicotine like it was oxygen. Handing the lighter back, you began to walk away from where it sounded like Joel had finally stumbled out of the bar to talk to you.

You ignored the pounding footsteps, taking another drag of the cigarette and holding it in your lungs until the burn was too much. It felt like that inhale, hold, and exhale was the only thing you could do right now, ears ringing and vision blurring with tears.

A hand wrapped around your upper arm, tugging you around to face the man you thought you might’ve spent forever with. Joel looked terrified, his brown eyes wide and his mouth moving rapidly. His hair was mussed and his flannel askew, falling off one shoulder and drooping down his arm. For a moment, you just stared at his plush, pink lips, thinking about how you had kissed him this morning and wondered if she had done the same more than once tonight. Slowly, and without your say-so, Joel’s voice filtered into your ears.

“-I swear, I was just waitin’ for ya, baby, and she jus’ settled in right next a’ me like I’d written her a fuckin’ invitation!” He was saying, low voice and light Southern accent sounding urgent and stressed the fuck out.

You just looked at him, tilting your head to take a hit and then blowing the smoke in his face, not present enough to think about redirecting the stream elsewhere. You couldn’t even process what he was saying, trying to reconcile the man in front of you with the one who had driven you to work this morning and dropped you off with a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Say somethin’, baby, please. I need ta know you’re hearin’ me, you gotta understand. I love ya, angel, you know that.” Joel pleaded, reaching out to you with those warm and callused hands, like they hadn’t just been holding that girl's drink and doing God knows what with her. You recoiled, finally summoning the wherewithal to speak.

“I dunno, Joel, holding hands and kissing like that seems more like a date and less like a friendly chat.” You muttered, sucking on the cigarette which had now almost burned down to the filter. Dropping the stub onto the ground and grinding it into the sidewalk, you looked around, realizing that this earth-shattering conversation was taking place on some God-forsaken street corner.

The boutiques were closed up for the night, and the only places with lights on were the bar behind you, the 24-hour gas station and the cheap motel a few blocks up. You started to walk towards the gas station, suddenly wanting nothing more than a pack of cigarettes to chain smoke and a case of beer to pound back. Joel spluttered and tried to catch up to you, and for a moment the only sounds were your boots on the concrete and his work shoes scuffling behind you.

“Now you jus’ wait a minute, sweetheart, we gotta talk ‘bout this or somethin’. She didn’t mean anythin’, we were just talkin’, I swear it.” Joel said, catching your hand in his own and lacing your fingers in a bizarre imitation of what he had been doing with the blonde not twenty minutes ago. You made a sound of disgust and pulled away, trying to ignore the rough and comforting feeling of his hand brushing against yours.

“Joel, there’s really nothing to say. From what I just saw, you’d rather flirt with young things in bars then settle down with me for some real fuckin’ stability. Now, you go back to her and have yourself a real nice night, just make sure she’s legal ‘fore you buy her another drink.” You spit, turning around and glaring at him as your anger finally rose to the surface, that white hot feeling breaking through the glacial numbness.

Joel reared back like you’d struck him, broad shoulders slumping dejectedly as he stared at you with the patented Joel Miller puppy eyes.

“Baby, please, y’know how much I like havin’ you ‘round. You know how much I love ya. She’s nothin’, and I told her to leave me the fuck alone as soon as I saw ya. Lemme drive you home ‘nd we can talk ‘bout all this.” He begged, those puppy dog eyes watering as he spoke.

It almost worked, and you felt yourself soften as you took in the regret and dejection showing plainly on his face. But, as he stepped closer to you, the wind picked up and blew the scent of him into your nose.

He smelled like he normally did after a hard day of work, but underneath the comforting scent, you could smell her fruity perfume. You looked at him closely, and caught the shine of her lip-gloss on the corner of his mouth, gleaming under the streetlights like a reminder. You felt an immediate wave of shame for even considering his pleas, which was immediately overshadowed by an even bigger wave of anger.

“Well, shit, Joel, you just blew your chance at getting laid tonight! I bet if you run back now, she might still be around. Maybe, if you’re lucky, she might have some more freshly graduated friends for you to flirt with!” You sniped, the vitriol sliding over your lips and into the quiet night like a chemical spill, poison flowing onto the cracked sidewalk and seeping into Joel’s shoes. His face tightened, that sad look in his eyes gone and replaced with anger.

“That’s enough now, I told ya nothin’ was goin on between me ‘nd her. Why can’t you just believe me?” He growled, his anger showing on his face, eyebrows pinched and mouth tight. Goddamn, that mouth. You were going to miss those lips, how they brushed against yours on lazy mornings and how they devoured on hungry nights.

“Because I fuckin’ saw you, Joel, and nothing you say can take that back. Go the fuck home, and stay out of my life. I’ll be by at some point to pick up my shit and say goodbye to Sarah.” You said, softer now, caught up in the memories of what had been a decent relationship.

Sure, Joel had walls you couldn’t knock down, and sure, you guys fought about money like y’all were married, but you loved him. He was the guy who brought you home at the end of a long shift, the guy who shared your bed and made you soup when you were sick. He was the guy who brought Sarah into your life, the brightest little girl you had ever met.

He was the guy who loved seeing you in his clothes, the guy who couldn't stop giving you his shirts to wear when you were home alone. He was the guy who fucked you ‘till you couldn’t see straight, then cuddled you for the rest of the night. Joel Miller was the first guy to ever truly see you, the first guy to listen to your insecurities and make you feel like you were worth something to someone.

All that, just for him to fuck up and do exactly what every other partner has done. The worst part was that he knew that, knew that you had been cheated on more times than you could count and knew how badly that made you feel about yourself.

Joel had stayed up for those late-night conversations where you revealed how you felt like he might get bored of you at any minute, and told you that he never would. Now, all that seems like a shitty lie that you should’ve known better then to believe.  

Without looking back, you turn on your heel and keep walking towards the gas station. The humid breeze brushes your hair off your shoulders and stings your eyes, and you can almost pretend that’s the only reason your eyes are watering.

You just keep walking, eyes focusing on the weeds growing through the sidewalk and mind refusing to let you turn around to see Joel, still standing on that God-forsaken street corner with his head in his hands.

Later, after you’ve gone through your pack of Marlboro’s and tossed back a couple beers, you think about what would’ve happened if you and your cowboy had been fated in the way you always thought you were.

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first fic, hope y'all liked it!

[rav3n-pascal22]

close enough, welcome back, Ezra <3

[rav3n-pascal22]

After Hours

Summary: Joel Miller was a very successful businessman, and you just worked for him. Then one night the two of you stay late, and make use of an empty building.

Warnings: mature content, explicit content, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, submissive reader, dominant Joel, minor spanking, dirty talk

A/N: Hi my lovelies it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted anything on here, but I’ve just been really busy and couldn’t find the time to write. Hope I still have your love and support, and that y’all continue to enjoy my work! Hope you guys are still obsessing over Daddy a.k.a Pedro pascal. Reblog and comment if you like it they would be greatly appreciated and encouraged. If you have any notes or tips or something nice to say about my work don’t hesitate to express it! Always show support for your fellow writers. If you wish to be added to a tag list let your girl know! Thanks everyone! Enjoy! XOXO

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan @lover-of-books-and-tea @bbyanarchist @justajoelsreader

Hall Of Hunks

The office was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the click of your heels echoing against the polished floor. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but you stayed. You always stayed. And tonight, so did he.

Joel leaned in the doorway, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. "You're still here," he said, voice low and a little rough.

Looking up from your screen, smirking. "So are you."

“Touché.” He stepped into your office slowly, as if crossing some invisible line. "I could say I forgot something, but that wouldn't be true."

You stood still, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Then what is true?"

"That I wanted to see what would happen if we were the last two in the building."

Silence stretched between the two of you, thick with anticipation. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Neither of you blinked as his eyes remained glued to yours.

Crossing the space between the both of you, stopping just shy of touching. "And?"

“I didn’t think anything was going to happen.” His fingers brushed your hip, feather-light. "I guess we could find out."

You didn't stop him when he leaned in. When your mouths met, it wasn't tentative . It was the kind of kiss that made time irrelevant. Hands explored, breath hitched, and the sharp thrill of being somewhere you shouldn't only made it more intoxicating.

It was a moment suspended between rules and desire, and you both knew that you had crossed the line long before the door clicked shut behind you.

Clothes ripped off and thrown across the room with in seconds, as your naked bodies fell down on the leather couch on the other side. You on top hovering over his body slightly hesitating on if you really wanted to do this or not.

Joel could sense your worry and reached a hand up to grab your face, and pull your lips back to his. Groaning in your mouth in the most sensual way possible. That was all it took for you to gain more confidence.

“It’s just you and me.” His hand gripping the base as he rubbed it up and down your folds. A shiver running up your spine as he pushed the tip slowly inside you.

“That’s it baby girl, that’s a good girl.” Soft praises echoing in your ear as you slowly sank down his erect cock. His soft hands caressing your skin so delicately. “You feelin all of me?”

“Mhm.” Struggling to speak just one word concentrating on adjusting around his thickness. Twisting your face in an unusual manner causing him to softly chuckle at how cute and hot you looked at the same time.

“Cat got your tongue baby? Can you not speak?” His tone playful and low.

“Joel please.” Whimpering pathetically as you continued to grind your hips back and forth. Joel loved to see how desperate you were for him.

“You like fucking your bosses? Does the thought make your cunt wet? Huh?” His words repeating over and over in your brain as they got more filthy. “Bet that cunt has been dripping everyday for me.”

Joel loved the feeling of your skin touching his. The way your body molded perfectly against his. Like two magnets connecting together. A powerful and intimidating man holding you like a delicate glass cup. Joel was enjoying this way more than what he thought he would, and he was never going to let you go.

“Fuck you are tight.” Large hands holding the fat flesh of your behind squeezing your cheeks in his palm. Feeling so warm and incredibly deep. “Such a shame you haven’t been fucked properly.”

Nodding your head in complete agreement still unable to form a complete sentence. Wrapping your hands around his neck softly, beginning to tremble as you moved your legs to raise yourself better. Joel helping guide your hips so you never lost your rhythm.

“Take it easy baby girl, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” He teased as you started to struggle bouncing up and down. A hand coming down swiftly on your backside in warning, but you never flinched.

“I can do it Joel.” Reassuring him with your glazed out eyes, as he smirked up at you loving the wicked gleam in your eyes. “You’re just so fucking big.”

“Fuck.” That was music to his ears as he wrapped his arms around your back pulling your chest on top of his. Hearing those words sounded like a challenge to him, and did he love a good challenge.

Gasping as he lifted his knees up, and started to pound up into your cunt with no mercy. His warm lips peppering kisses along your shoulder and neck. His hands keeping a firm grip on your ass using it as leverage.

His pelvic hair brushing against your exposed clit it had your thighs shaking aggressively. Joel feeling this smacked a hand against your lower thigh.

“Oh my god.” Crying out so loud that if anyone was on the floor above or below you would definitely hear.

“Nobody else could ever make you feel like this.” Hissing in your ear, and in just mere seconds tears are glistening in your eyes. “My cock, and my cock only can make you feel this good.”

“Yes sir.” Dropping your voice when saying sir, and something switched in Joel’s eyes when you called him that.

Suddenly your body was being grabbed and flipped onto your back. Your skin smacking against the warm leather sticking to your skin. Pulling your legs over both his shoulders, getting right back into the same rhythm.

Drilling into your sweet spot over and over again. Face leaning forward slightly just enough to where your lips couldn’t reach his. Joel always just oozed with confidence whether it was during a business meeting or in the bedroom. A bit surprised a wealthy, attractive man like him would go after with much lower status.

“I’m so close.” Quickly informing him as your body started to tremble. A fire igniting in the pit of your stomach. Head tossed back in complete ecstasy as you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Let go baby girl I’m right here.” Cooing softly in your ear like he was telling a secret. His deep and seductive voice was sending you right over the edge.

“Oh fuck fuck.” Crying out as your orgasm was rapidly approaching. Joel looking down at the remarkable expression on your face. Loving that he was the one in control for your pleasure. It made him feel like he was invincible.

“Fucking cum around my cock.” Commanding as he gritted his teeth as a hand reached down to your connected bodies rubbing your puffy clit. Rapid circles around your neck causing you to scream as your hands scratched down his back leaving marks.

Your ribcage falling and rising with each unsteady breath you took. Hands falling down to your sides loose and numb. Stomach trembling from your euphoric orgasm you just received. Your battered cunt was feeling sore and thoroughly stretched from his cock. His hands stroking your thighs soothingly waiting for you to come down from your high.

“I’m so glad you decided to stay after hours.” He chuckled to which you laughed shaking your head.

Then a soft knock came from the door both of you looking over your eyes going wide. “Umm when you guys are done in there, I was wondering if I could get my folder I left on your desk.”

[rav3n-pascal22]

Master List: RWIWY Ch. List

Ch. 6 Summary: His possessive streak comes back

Warnings:🔞 a/b/o dynamics, mildly dubious consent, omegaverse, p in v sex, biting, marking, possessive Joel

Where Do You Think You're Going?

It’s morning , the storm has passed. Snow is piled high, light pouring through the cabin window. You wake alone for the first time since Joel claimed you. A fire crackles. His scent lingers. But he’s outside — chopping wood. You wrap yourself in a coat and quietly open the cabin door. The air bites. You take one cautious step onto the porch, boots crunching lightly in the snow. It’s the first breath of freedom you've had in days. No fever. No rut. Just cold air, sunlight, and a body that finally feels like yours again.

   But then—you hear it.

  A crash.

  A growl.

  Footsteps slamming through snow.

  Joel’s voice, low and furious, before he’s even visible. "Get back inside. Now.”

  You turn.

  He’s charging up the hill, axe discarded in the snow behind him, sweat freezing at his temples, eyes wild. Not angry. Terrified.

  Startled, you freeze up telling him, "I—I just wanted air. I’m fine, Joel—”

  Joel cutting you off, growl caught in his throat. “You are not fine. "He grabs you by the waist—not rough, but firm—and backs you through the door like you're made of glass.

 Once they’re inside, the door slams shut behind them. Joel his voice low, slightly shaking  “You don’t open that door without me. Ever.”

  You blinked, stunned. His hands are still on you. Holding you too tightly. “I’m not in heat anymore. I wasn’t going far—” You try to say but get cut off again.

  “You think I give a damn about your heat?” His voice cracks. Not loud. Just… breaking. “There could be infected. Hunters. Strays. Hell, even the cold could take you if I ain’t there to stop it.” His eyes are wild and dilated as he gets more manic. His scent nearly chokes you from how burned and rotted it's gotten.

   You have to get away, you go to the bedroom and shut the door. Taking deep breaths trying to calm down. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, arms curled around your knees. Joel stands near the door, head bowed, jaw tight. The silence is heavy, aching.

  He finally turns. Joel quietly says “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  You don't answer right away.

  He crosses the room. Slow. Careful. “I ain’t good at this. At explainin’ things when I’m afraid.” He kneels down in front of you, eyes dark with guilt. “But when I saw you out there…” He swallows hard. “It was like my chest collapsed. Thought maybe you’d slipped, gotten hurt. Thought maybe you’d…” He hesitates, “…run.”

  Your eyes soften, looking down into his red puffy eyes, the wild manic gaze subdued. “I wasn’t trying to leave you, Joel.”

  He nods. Slowly. Eyes locked to you. “I know that now. But right then… all I could think was that I’d marked you—put my teeth in you—and still wasn’t enough to keep you safe.” He reaches for your hand.

  You let him take your hand, “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  He’s silent for a moment. Then he speaks, voice barely above a breath. “I want you to choose me. Every day. Not ‘cause you have to… but ‘cause you feel what I feel.”

  You lean into him, he lets your fingers lace through his, lets you scent brush his jaw. His whole body tenses like he’s holding back from crumbling. Your scent that's now mixed with his falls over him in waves, his shoulder slump in relief.

  Softly you admit “I already do.” Giving his hand a gentle squeeze with your hand.

  He exhales hard—like your words crack something open in his chest. Then he rises to sit beside you, tugs you gently into his lap, and just holds you there. Arms wrapped tight around you, hands splayed across you back like he needs to feel you breathing.

  He buries his face into your hair murmuring, “I’m gonna mess this up sometimes. But I’ll try and be better.” He presses a kiss to your hair. A slightly, possessive edge returns to his voice “You’re everything I never thought I’d get to have. And now that I do… I ain’t ever lettin’ go.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

**Thank you for reading**

[rav3n-pascal22]

PEDRO PASCAL Vanity Fair

[rav3n-pascal22]

For all of the Dieter girlies, this one’s for you.

[rav3n-pascal22]

PEDRO PASCAL Vanity Fair | July - August 2025

[rav3n-pascal22]

Greek Getaway!

harry castillo x fashion intern fem!reader content warnings: fluff, age gap (reader is in late twenties, harry is in forties) summary: a vacation with your billionaire boyfriend wc: 4.2k

masterlist. | part one.

You wake to the sound of waves and birdsong.

The curtains are still half-drawn, letting in strands of honeyed morning light that dance across the white sheets. The air is warm but soft, still touched by the sea breeze drifting through the open doors.

Harry is still asleep beside you—bare-chested, sunk deep into the pillows, one arm curled around your waist like even in sleep, he’s afraid to let go.

You stay still for a moment, just watching him.

His hair is slightly messy, his lashes casting delicate shadows across his cheekbones. He looks younger like this. Softer. Completely at peace.

Your fingers drift across his chest lightly.

He hums.

Then, groggily, “Are you watching me sleep?”

You smile. “A little.”

He opens one eye lazily, his voice still low and rough with sleep. “That’s very unsettling of you.”

You giggle and press a kiss to his shoulder. “You snore. Just a little.”

Harry groans. “Impossible. I’m perfect.”

You snort and curl into him. “You are perfect.”

He tugs you closer until you're half draped across him, your thigh slotted between his, your cheek against his chest. His hand finds your hip and rests there, thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“Don’t move yet,” he murmurs. “Just stay like this.”

You do. For a long time.

Neither of you talks. Neither of you needs to.

Eventually, though, your stomach grumbles—loudly.

Harry chuckles. “Well. That’s my cue.”

He kisses the top of your head and slides out of bed, grabbing a pair of loose linen pants from the edge of the dresser. You admire him openly as he walks toward the kitchen barefoot, shirtless, completely unbothered.

“You’re staring again,” he calls over his shoulder.

“I’m appreciating,” you say sweetly.

He tosses you a grin as he disappears into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, you’re curled up on a lounge chair on the terrace, wearing nothing but his shirt again, watching the sea as he returns with two plates in hand.

Fresh fruit, thick slices of bread, olive oil, honey, a soft cheese you don’t recognize, and perfectly made coffee—served in handmade ceramic mugs you swear were imported from somewhere specific and expensive.

“You made all this?” you blink.

“I assembled it,” he says, setting everything down. “That still counts.”

You clink your mug gently against his. “To our first morning in paradise.”

He smirks. “To waking up with you like this every morning.”

You flush but don’t argue.

The two of you eat slowly, barefoot and sun-warmed, sharing bites and the occasional kiss between sips of coffee. Every few minutes, Harry reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear or squeeze your thigh under the table.

When you're full and drowsy again, he reclines back with a satisfied sigh, arms stretched over the back of the bench.

“I could stay here forever,” you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he replies, brushing a kiss into your hair. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

By early afternoon, the villa is already golden with light, cicadas humming in the olive trees and waves sparkling just below the cliffs.

You’re slipping on a breezy linen dress—something simple and white, found in the closet alongside the other clothes Harry had stocked for the trip—when you feel his hands wrap around your waist from behind.

“You look like you belong in a painting,” he murmurs, kissing your bare shoulder. “A very expensive one.”

You laugh, reaching for your sunglasses. “Where are we going?”

Harry takes the keys off the counter, smug and casual in his cream button-down and rolled sleeves. “There’s a coastal town about thirty minutes away. Markets, cafés, a little harbor…Thought we could explore. Pick up something unnecessary.”

You grin. “That’s your specialty.”

“And don't forget spoiling you.” he says with a smile.

You follow him out to the garage and get in the car.

The drive itself feels like part of the dream.

He takes one of the smaller convertibles, a vintage Alfa Romeo in a soft dusty blue, and winds down the coastal road like he knows every turn. The sea flashes beside you. Wind rushes through your hair. He reaches over to hold your hand every time the road straightens.

You glance over at him in the sunlight, sunglasses on, one hand on the wheel and the other tracing lazy patterns over your thigh, and you think:

This is a once-in-a-lifetime man.

And you’re his.

The town is gorgeous and charming. Cobblestone streets lined with linen dresses waving on clotheslines, vendors calling out in Greek, flower boxes overflowing with pink and red blooms.

Harry walks beside you like he has nowhere else to be in the world. His hand rests low on your back. He’s attentive without hovering, observant without controlling. Every time your eyes linger on something—handcrafted sandals, a little gold necklace, a silk scarf—he buys it.

Without asking.

“You don’t have to buy me everything,” you murmur, cheeks warm as he hands over crisp euro notes to yet another vendor.

“I know,” he replies, brushing your hair back. “That’s why I want to.”

You pause at a little seaside stall made of driftwood and rope. A woman is selling handmade shell bracelets, tiny glass bottles of sea salt, and small ceramic cats painted by hand.

While Harry talks with the stall owner in fluent, polite Greek, you quietly pick out a small keepsake: a delicate seashell carved into the shape of a heart, strung onto a worn leather cord.

“Here,” you say shyly, slipping it into his palm. “It’s kind of silly, but…”

He stares at it for a moment.

Then he smiles—really smiles.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “it’s perfect.”

Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you softly, right there in the middle of the market. You can feel the smile still tugging at his mouth.

He slips it into his shirt pocket. “It’s staying there the whole trip.”

As you stroll toward the harbor, a small gray kitten darts between your feet and mews at you.

You drop into a crouch instantly. “Ohmygod, hi,” you whisper, reaching out gently.

The kitten walks right up to you, tail high, rubbing against your leg.

Harry stands nearby, arms crossed, watching you like you’ve just cured a disease.

You glance up at him. “Look at this angel.”

“I am,” he says without hesitation, gazing intently at you.

You snort. “I meant the cat.”

��I didn’t.”

You roll your eyes and coo at the kitten some more. A few minutes later, another cat appears, and another. You’re suddenly surrounded by a little crew of purring kittens, all curling around your ankles.

Harry watches the whole thing like he’s seeing his favorite movie for the first time.

“You know,” he says, voice low, “I’ve done a lot of things in my life. But nothing’s made me want to move to a tiny island, buy another villa and get you a bunch of little kittens."

You smile and laugh, partly because it's a ridiculous thought, and partly because you knew if Harry really was being serious, you would have a whole house filled with cats by the end of the week.

You both keep walking a bit more, then the two of you stop at a gelato cart before heading back to the car.

You get mango. Harry gets stracciatella. You swap bites as you walk along the harbor, the late-afternoon sun dipping lower.

At one point, a bit of gelato smears near your lip.

Harry stops walking. “Hold still.”

You freeze.

He leans down, brushes his thumb over the spot slowly—then licks it off his finger without breaking eye contact.

You blink. “That’s… illegal.”

He grins. “What? Waste not, want not.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love.”

You flush, but he’s already kissed your cheek and pulled you closer, your gelato now forgotten as the sea glitters behind you.

You’re following the winding streets back toward the harbor when you spot it.

A tiny bookshop tucked between two weathered buildings, its sign painted in faded blue, a bell dangling above the door. Bougainvillea curls across the frame like it’s guarding a secret.

You tug Harry’s hand. “Wait, this place looks magical.”

He raises a brow, amused. “Are we not already living in a Nicholas Sparks movie?”

You nudge him with your shoulder and slip inside, the little bell chiming overhead.

It’s cool and quiet, the air thick with the smell of old paper, lemony wood polish, and dust in the best way. Shelves crowd every wall. A sleepy orange cat blinks up from behind the counter, stretching lazily before curling back up beside a stack of poetry.

You wander slowly between the shelves, fingers trailing the spines of books in Greek, French, English. Harry follows, occasionally reaching above you to pull something down, always placing it carefully in your hands.

At one point, you find a weathered copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, the title embossed in gold, its pages a little soft around the edges.

You hold it out to him. “This book ruined me for mediocre love.”

Harry takes it from your hands, glancing at the cover, then back at you.

“I’d rather ruin you for anything less than the real thing,” he says softly.

You blink.

“I’m serious,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your wrist. “You’ll never have to settle for anything less than obsessed. Not with me.”

You both walk a few streets over, up a narrow stone staircase, you find a rooftop café with sun-bleached tablecloths, twinkling lights strung lazily across tree branches, and a view of the whole town sloping down into the sea.

Harry chooses a corner table half in shade, half in sun. You sit with your knees brushing his under the table, sandals kicked off, your new book bag slung over the chair.

He orders for you in perfect Greek.

When the food arrives—grilled halloumi, stuffed grape leaves, fresh bread and olives, lemony chicken—you’re too full from smiling to even be surprised anymore.

Harry pours you a glass of white wine, leans back in his seat, and watches you while you eat.

“What?” you ask, mouth full of bread.

He smiles. “Nothing. Just memorizing.”

“You’re staring again.”

“You keep making it so easy.”

You feel your cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking his hand. “For all of this.”

“You deserve more than I can give you,” he replies, “but I’ll never stop trying.”

After lunch, you stay at the table a little longer, sun-soaked and drowsy, Harry’s fingers brushing your thigh lazily under the table. The breeze lifts your hair. The streets buzz softly below. And for a moment, everything feels still.

Right.

Like the rest of the world doesn’t need to exist, because this moment already has everything.

You’re just about to curl up on the villa’s lounge chair with your new book when Harry walks outside in a crisp white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, sunglasses perched on his nose, and a faint smirk pulling at his lips.

“Put your bathing suit back on,” he says smoothly.

You blink. “What?”

“Trust me.”

“I’m still digesting three kinds of cheese, Harry.”

He bends slightly, pulling your legs over his lap and pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. “You’ll be fine. It’s a surprise. And you’ll like this one.”

You narrow your eyes. “Is it another villa?”

“No. Bigger.”

“…A yacht?”

“Not...exactly.”

You laugh, but he just grins and nudges you toward the bedroom to change.

Twenty minutes later, you’re following him barefoot down the villa’s private beach staircase, sea-salted wind brushing against your skin. You spot it immediately—a sleek, beautifully maintained boat bobbing just offshore, painted navy with a pale wood deck.

It’s almost a yacht. But Harry insists it’s not.

“This doesn’t count as a yacht?” you ask, slipping your hand into his as he guides you toward the dock.

“It’s my smaller one,” he says. “More intimate. Less obnoxious.”

You stifle a laugh. “Of course.”

The boat cuts through the Aegean like silk, sun glinting off the waves, wind whipping through your hair. You sit curled up on one of the sun pads at the bow, oversized sunglasses on, hair still damp from the sea breeze, and Harry stands at the helm—one hand on the wheel, the other holding a glass of chilled white wine.

He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you like you’re the best view in the whole world

“You having fun, baby?”

“Fun would be an understatement.”

He throws his head back with a quiet laugh, then slows the boat as you approach a hidden little cove—water impossibly blue, cliffs cradling a secluded patch of rocky shoreline.

He drops anchor, tosses his shirt aside, and gestures toward you. “Swim with me.”

The water is cool but perfect. Clear all the way to the bottom. You dive in with a gasp, surfacing and shaking your hair out of your eyes just as Harry dives in beside you.

He surfaces a few feet away, slicking his hair back, completely unbothered, and so annoyingly beautiful.

You float lazily, sun on your face, while he swims closer—arms encircling your waist from behind.

“You’re glowing again,” he murmurs.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true. Greece looks good on you.”

You splash him lightly. “You’re obsessed with me.”

“Yes,” he says easily, pulling you closer until your legs wrap around him. “And?”

You laugh into his neck. “I love you.”

He presses a kiss just below your ear. “I love you more.”

Back on deck, he wraps you in a towel, pours you both another drink, and lies beside you on the sunbed while the light softens into golden afternoon.

The world is quiet except for the waves gently lapping the hull, and his fingers laced with yours.

“You surprise me constantly,” you say softly, eyes half-closed.

Harry turns his head to you. “Good.”

You smile. “Don’t stop.”

He squeezes your hand. “I don’t intend to.”

The cove is the kind of place you’d see in a postcard and assume was photoshopped.

The cliffs curve inward like a crescent moon, half-sheltering the water in a quiet embrace. The sea is crystal clear, blue and green and gold all at once.

You float in Harry’s arms for a long while, limbs tangled, his hands slow and steady on your waist beneath the water. His lips find your jaw, your shoulder, your temple, over and over—like he can’t stop tasting the fact that you’re really here.

At one point, he tips his head back, hair slicked, water dripping down his neck, and just looks at you. Like he’s trying to memorize every angle of your smile in the light reflecting off the sea.

Then he grins.

“Come on,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s more.”

You blink. “More what?”

He only smiles—that smile—and gently starts guiding you toward shore.

The two of you swim together, sun-soaked and quiet, the water glowing around you like liquid crystal. As you wade onto the little beach, the tide lapping against your calves, you glance around and realize—there’s no one else here.

It’s just the two of you. The cliffs. The sea. The sky.

Harry helps you over a patch of sun-warmed rocks, hand steady, never once letting you slip.

The two of you explore for a while—climbing higher onto the flat rock ledges that overlook the sea, sitting hip-to-hip with your feet dangling over the edge. He points out little sun-bleached crabs, bits of quartz, places where he once watched a summer storm roll across the water.

When you’re quiet, he doesn’t rush you.

When you laugh, he watches like it’s the only sound he cares about.

Harry helps you over a patch of sun-warmed rocks, hand steady, never once letting you slip.

“Careful,” he murmurs, though his touch alone is enough to keep you upright. “Just around this bend…”

You round a cluster of white-streaked boulders—and gasp.

Tucked into the cliffside is a shallow tide pool, completely untouched. The water glimmers in the sun, soft green and gold, scattered with tiny fish darting between smoothed pebbles. Purple anemones flutter gently at the edges.

You crouch down without thinking, hands braced on the warm stone. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful.”

It’s rimmed with soft sea-worn stone, shallow and clear, tiny fish darting between rocks. Purple anemones bloom like underwater flowers. You kneel at the edge, wide-eyed.

“I feel like we discovered Atlantis,” you whisper.

Harry crouches beside you, watching your expression instead of the water. “I knew you’d love it.”

You glance at him. “How did you know this was here?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been coming to this island for years. Never brought anyone here before, though.”

You smile softly, hand curling around his. “Thank you.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part.”

A few minutes later, you’re both climbing up a small path cut into the rocks—nothing dangerous, just enough of a climb to make it feel like a secret adventure. At the top, there’s a ledge. A flat rock overlooking the entire cove, the sea stretching endless and glittering beyond it.

You sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, towels slung over your shoulders, hair still dripping seawater.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

“You’re looking in the wrong direction.”

You turn to face him—and he kisses you.

Not rushed. Not teasing.

Just soft. Steady. Full of every unspoken word he doesn’t know how to say.

You press your forehead against his when it ends.

You swim back to the boat slowly, lazily—neither of you in any rush.

The sun is lower now, casting long honeyed shadows across the water, and the wind is softer, gentler, like it’s trying not to disturb the quiet between you.

Harry hoists himself onto the boat first and then reaches down, gripping your hands to help you up. Your feet hit the warm deck and instantly, his towel is around your shoulders—still sun-soaked, still smelling like him. His hands linger as he wraps it tight around you.

“You’re cold,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along your cheek.

You shake your head. “I’m not.”

He kisses your forehead anyway.

Then guides you gently to the cushioned sunpad at the bow, where he’s already laid out another towel like a blanket. You settle in, still damp and glowing, and Harry joins you with a small tray in hand—cold fruit, cheese, and a little bottle of prosecco.

“You packed snacks?” you grin, amused.

“I anticipated hunger,” he says smoothly, popping a grape into your mouth before you can speak again.

You chew, smirking. “You are dangerously prepared.”

“Always.”

You lie side by side as the sun lowers itself toward the horizon. He feeds you slices of peach and cherries, the juice sticky on your lips until he leans in to kiss it away. His other arm is wrapped around your back, holding you tucked against his chest.

Your legs are tangled together under the towel. The sea rocks the boat gently. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint call of gulls.

“I’ve never felt this kind of quiet before,” you whisper. “Not silence. Just… peace.”

Harry hums in agreement, nose brushing your temple.

You glance up at him. “Do you ever get tired of all this?”

“The travel? The money?” he asks. “No.”

He pulls you a little closer.

“But I used to get tired of the solitude. Everything felt…curated. Bought. I didn’t realize how loud that emptiness was until I brought you into it.”

You rest your hand on his chest, right over his heart. “And now?”

His voice is barely a murmur. “Now, I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

You don’t say anything right away.

You just slide your fingers into his and lay your head against his chest as the sun finally dips beneath the edge of the world.

By the time you return to the villa, the sun is gone and the sky is inked with stars.

You’re wrapped in a towel and still smelling faintly of salt when Harry brushes your hair back and says quietly, “Go get dressed. Something soft. Light. I made a reservation.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You made a reservation?”

He smirks. “Shocking, I know.”

You head inside, and on the bed—waiting for you like a dream—is a dress.

Creamy silk, backless, with delicate straps and the faintest shimmer to it. There’s a note in Harry’s handwriting sitting beside it:

Saw this in Milan. Thought of you before I even touched it. Wear it for me tonight, baby. - H

You smile, heart fluttering, and start getting ready.

When you walk back out to the terrace, Harry’s waiting—leaning against the railing in a light linen suit with the top buttons of his shirt undone, a glass of something dark in his hand.

He turns when he hears you.

And stills.

Completely.

You can see it in his face—that he’s been caught off guard, even by his own plan. His eyes move over you slowly, reverently, like he can’t decide where to look first.

“You’re…” he breathes. “Unreal.”

You blush, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress. “You bought it.”

“I didn’t know how much I needed to see you in it until right now.”

He walks over, slides a hand around your waist, and kisses you gently, like he doesn’t want to smudge anything.

The restaurant is tucked into the side of a cliff, just outside of town. No signs, no crowds. Just candlelight, the sea below, and the soft strum of live guitar echoing through the stone courtyard.

Harry pulls out your chair before you can reach for it. Orders wine before you can glance at a menu. Knows the chef by name.

Everything feels intimate. Luxurious. Effortless.

Plates arrive one after the other: handmade pasta with lemon and capers, grilled sea bass, olives warmed with citrus peel, and warm bread you both tear with your fingers and dip into oil between sips of wine.

Harry keeps watching you—his elbow resting on the table, his fingers brushing your wrist every few minutes, like he needs the reassurance that you’re real.

“I think this is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you,” you say, grinning.

He raises an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m just saying. Usually you’re...”

“Brooding?”

“Commanding.”

He hums. “And tonight?”

“Still in control,” you murmur, brushing your foot against his under the table. “But softer.”

He leans in slightly. “That’s because I’m around the only person who doesn’t expect anything from me but love.”

You blink, caught off guard.

He means it. You can see it in his eyes.

You reach for his hand.

“I don’t need anything else.”

“Good,” he says, lifting your knuckles to his lips. “Because I’ll keep giving it anyway.”

The restaurant owner insists on sending you off with two little pastries wrapped in brown paper and ribbon.

You carry them carefully in one hand as Harry slips his other hand into yours, guiding you down the quiet cobblestone path that winds through the hills. The town has gone still, glowing under the hum of golden lanterns strung overhead. Far off, the sea glimmers under the moonlight like silver silk.

There’s no rush to go anywhere.

And Harry doesn’t seem in a hurry to let go of the night—or of you.

“You realize we could’ve just driven,” you murmur, smiling up at him.

“I like this better,” he says softly. “You. The stars. And nothing else between us.”

You turn the corner into a small square framed with trees and potted herbs, where a local musician strums a guitar under a light post, his voice faint and warm in the quiet.

Harry stops walking.

You blink at him. “What?”

He just looks at you for a moment—tender, steady, eyes shining.

Then he sets the pastries down on a bench, reaches for your hand, and says, “Dance with me.”

You hesitate. “Here?”

“Why not here?”

So you step into him, barefoot and giddy, letting him pull you in.

He holds you gently, one hand at your waist, the other in your hand, and begins to sway with you right there in the middle of the street. You press your head to his chest, listening to the slow rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the sound of the music.

“You know,” you whisper, “if anyone else was doing this, I’d be embarrassed.”

Harry dips his head, kissing your hair. “But it’s me.”

“Exactly.”

He smiles. “Then you’re safe.”

You walk the rest of the way home hand in hand, the stone path glowing under the moon, your shoes hanging from your fingers.

By the time you reach the villa, you’re drowsy and smiling, hair messy from the wind, the silk of your dress whispering against your legs.

When you reach the stairs, Harry bends slightly and says, “Come here.”

You blink. “What?”

“Let me carry you.”

“Harry, I can walk-”

He lifts you anyway—effortlessly, easily, like you weigh nothing in his arms.

You rest your head against his shoulder, arms looped around his neck, and whisper, “You’re ridiculous.”

He kisses your temple. “You’re mine.”

Back inside, he sets you down gently on the bed, brushing the straps of your dress off your shoulders and helping you out of it with practiced, tender hands.

He doesn’t try anything more.

He just pulls a soft shirt over your head, tucks you beneath the linen sheets, and climbs in beside you, gathering you into his chest like he doesn’t know how to sleep unless he’s holding you.

“You happy?” he murmurs against your hair.

“Completely.”

“Then sleep.”

And you do.

Wrapped in Harry, in Greece, in love.

[rav3n-pascal22]

New Fic Idea

You guys, thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs and your lovely feedback on Negative Space! I truly appreciate it, as it is my first try at writing fan fiction and I was quite hesitant how to approach it. That being said, I think I fell down the rabbit hole of fanfic writing and my mind came up with a new story outline - blame it on the hot weather and sunshine, but I am in need of a good summer vacation-vibe story! Here we go:

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Genre: Romcom, emotional healing, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, smut (of course), vacation AU 

Summary: You weren’t looking for love. You were looking for a break. After a burnout-fueled emotional tailspin, your best friend invites you to spend a week at a beach villa in Mexico. Sunshine, ocean air, zero expectations—that’s the pitch. What you find instead is a house full of strangers, passive-aggressive couples, and one man who throws everything off balance without even trying.

Joel Miller arrives late to the party—quiet, rugged, eyes that catch more than they should. Under sun-bleached skies and the weight of salt air, something in you starts to shift. And maybe, just maybe, this isn’t just a vacation. Maybe it’s the start of something real.

And here is a little snippet of what I have come up with so far:

".....Eight hours of back-to-back Zoom calls, one lukewarm coffee, zero real food, and a mild existential crisis later… you were done. You closed your laptop like it had personally betrayed you and slumped back in yourr chair. Your reflection in the black screen was not flattering: wild bun, dark circles. Your eyes looked tired. Not just from the eight straight hours of marketing strategy reviews and brand alignment jargon—but tired in a way you don’t know how to fix. 

This wasn’t burnout. This was a full-on spiritual molting. The picture of millennial success.

You didn’t hate your job. That would be easier. It was the numbness that scared you. You used to care. Used to light up in strategy meetings. Used to find joy in campaigns that actually meant something. Now? You were just… showing up. Hitting deadlines. Feeling like a ghost with a LinkedIn profile.

You were good at what you do, and they paid you well to do it. But somewhere along the way, it had stopped feeling like it mattered. Or maybe you had stopped feeling like you mattered in it. It had been like this for months now. Maybe longer.

The phone buzzes. A name flashes: Kate.

You smiled despite yourself.

Kate had been your best friend since college—equal parts chaos demon and fairy godmother. She had a way of barging into your life exactly when you were about to collapse and somehow fixing things—usually with food, unsolicited advice, or well-timed threats.

You ignored the call and let it go to voicemail. Two minutes later, a text follows:

Kate:🌴 We booked the beach house. MEXICO. BEACH. VACATION. You’re coming. You. Me. Sam. Sun. Margaritas. Possibly dolphins. You need this 💛

You sigh. She's been pushing this for weeks. You’ve resisted with every excuse you could think of.

You type: I have work. I can’t just vanish to Mexico. You hesitate. And I don’t want to be a third wheel.

Her reply is almost immediate, with a photo of a sunset over turquoise water and a caption that read:

Kate: LOOK AT THIS. Look at the serotonin. When was the last time you felt warm? Like, actually warm? Don’t lie. I’ve seen your heating bill.

A pause. Then another text:

Kate: And you won’t be a third wheel. Promise. It’s not just me and Sam. We invited a few people, hust low key, low pressure. You need to breathe, babe. Lay under the sun. Let the ocean fix you a little. And we miss you.

You Stares at the message. The idea of being surrounded by happy couples while trying to pretend you weren’t emotionally composting sounded... exhausting. You've had enough of watching love from the outside. You've spent years dating, trying, hoping… only to end up alone, again. You had officially exited the “hopeful romantic” phase and entered the “if I die alone but have good skin, that’s a win” era.

The worst part? You still believed in love. Stupid, gooey, all-consuming, soul-squeezing love. But after a string of disappointing relationships with emotionally unavailable men and one guy who unironically used the phrase “alpha energy,” you were... over it. Officially.

Then again…The idea of warm sand under your feet makes something ache in your chest. You've been cold for so long, even when it's not winter. And —what’s one week? Maybe you didn’t have to impress anyone. Maybe you could just… exist. Quietly. With the waves.

And then she sent one last message:

Kate: You’ve gone quiet. I don’t like when you go quiet. You need sun. And fruit. And someone to bring you drinks with a little umbrella in them. Please come.

The truth was… she was right. You had gone quiet. It was subtle—just a missed call here, a rain check there. But slowly, you’d withdrawn. Not because you didn’t love your people. You were just too tired to pretend everything was okay. And the idea of doing nothing for a week? Of not marketing anything, branding anything, fixing anything? Of just being a person on a beach, alive and barefoot?

That sounded dangerously close to healing. So you typed:

Fine. I’m in. But I’m not wearing a swimsuit in front of strangers unless I’m drunk.

The reply came fast:

Kate: YEEEESSSSS 🌞🌞🌞 You won’t regret this. Pack light. Bathing suits. Books. Something loose and flirty just in case 😏

You rolled your eyes, but for the first time in a long time, you smiled. A real one. You tossed your phone aside and let your head fall back against the cushion.

You weren’t going to Mexico to fall in love. Or to fix anything. You just wanted to feel the sun on your skin and maybe remember who the hell you were underneath the stress and the spreadsheets. You didn’t know that this trip—the one you almost didn’t take—was going to undo you in the best way possible.

....." to be continued

[rav3n-pascal22]

Burning bridges 1996

Found on tiktok

[rav3n-pascal22]

tell me you see the fucking vision, this is joel miller. I'm gonna bite a bullet

[rav3n-pascal22]

Imagine Joel Miller stretched out on the couch exactly like that—arm tucked under his head, one knee bent, a smirk permanently etched on his face like he knows something you don’t. You’re both watching some old, grainy sitcom rerun on a half-working TV, the kind that still makes him chuckle like he’s actually enjoying himself for once.

You’re cross-legged on the rug, sipping something warm, and every time you hear him laugh, that deep, raspy kind of laugh that shakes his whole chest, you look over. And he’s already looking at you.

"You laughin’ at the show, or me?" he teases, eyes soft and crinkled in that Joel way—warm and guarded at the same time.

You shrug, fighting a grin. “Bit of both. You’re lookin’ real cozy over there.”

He lets out a mock sigh, dramatic and teasing. “Ain’t easy bein’ this charming, sweetheart.”

And then you both dissolve into giggles again. The fire’s crackling. He doesn’t move from his spot—just reaches out a hand, fingers brushing your arm lazily until you shift closer. His palm lands on your thigh, thumb tracing tiny circles while his gaze stays glued to the screen… but he’s smiling, like having you near is better than the punchline that just played.

You don’t need much. Just this. Just him like that.

[rav3n-pascal22]

── Movie night with the miller brothers.

No outbreak.

Pairings: Joel x f!reader x Tommy

Content warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. age gap (not specified), unprotected p in v, creampie, pet names, brief mention pregnancy, oral (m receiving), finger sex, breeding kink, praise kink, teasing, threesome, light spanking, cum eating/swallowing, manhandling, aftercare🎀

Word count: 3.000

You hum softly, pushing some buttons on the microwave. You hear it start to whirr, the bag inside inflating like a balloon. You lean back against the counter, watching the clock tick down.

You're wearing a thin white nightgown that falls just above your knees, the fabric hugging your curves softly. Your hair cascades down your shoulders in gentle waves, framing your face perfectly. You cross your arms over your chest, watching the microwav as the popcorn pops wildly inside the bag.

"Tommy! Did you put on the movie yet?" Your voice carries through the house towards the living room where Tommy is presumably sitting on the couch.

After a moment, you hear a muffled reply from the living room, "Nah, just got comfy. You almost done with the popcorn?" Tommy's voice is laid-back and casual.

You look at the microwave, seeing the timer wind down to the final seconds. "Almost... just a few more seconds." You lean back against the counter again, adjusting your nightgown slightly. The microwave beeps loudly, signaling the popcorn is done. "Got it!"

Carefully grabbing the hot bag from the microwave, you open it gently, letting the steam escape. You pour the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, the buttery smell filling the kitchen.

You hear heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway. Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your waist from behind and a familiar scent of leather and cologne fills your senses. Joel presses a firm kiss to your neck, "Mmmph..."

He continues to nuzzle into your neck, his hands roaming over your stomach and hips possessively. "Smells good... You look cute in that nightgown." He murmurs against your skin, his growing erection pressing against your backside through his jeans.

"Mmph... You whimper softly as Joel's lips find that sweet spot on your neck again. You pull away slightly, trying to put some space between your body and his hardness. "Don't get any ideas, Joel. It's movie night remember?

Chuckling, Joel steps back and raises his hands in surrender, giving you some space. "Okay, okay sweetheart. Movie night it is."

Joel leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now run along before I change my mind, darlin'."

You stick your tongue out playfully at him, rolling your eyes before grabbing the bowl of popcorn. You head towards the living room, calling out. "Coming! And keep your hands to yourself during the movie!" You try to sound stern but fail slightly due to smiling.

Tommy turns on the movie, the opening credits filling the room. You sit down on the plush couch next to him, the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap. As you both settle in, Tommy wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Comfy?"

You nod, snuggling into Tommy's side as the movie starts. The room is filled with the soft glow of the TV and the occasional crunch of popcorn. After a few minutes, Joel enters the living room, grabbing a seat on the other side of you, with a bottle of beer in his hand.

Joel sinks into the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He takes a swig from his bottle of beer, the cool liquid slides down his throat as he settles in for the movie.

As the movie progresses, you start to get more comfortable between the two men. You lean against Joel's side naturally, stretching your legs out and resting them on top of Tommy's hips. Tommy doesn't mind; he even gives your ankles a playful squeeze.

Joel's arm wraps around your shoulders comfortably as he grabs a handful of popcorn with his other hand. You snuggle closer into his side, your head resting on his chest. He can feel your soft hair against his shirt and smells your shampoo.

"Mmm... gettin' mighty comfortable over here, aren't ya?" His voice is low and slightly teasing, one hand absentmindedly playing with your hair while he finishes his beer with the other. "Movie's awful boring, if you ask me..."

You wave him off without even looking at him, completely engrossed in the movie. "Shut up, Joel," you mutter, pulling your legs up slightly to get more comfortable. Tommy chuckles softly next to you, his hands now resting on your calves.

Tommy's fingers start tracing little circles on your leg as joel sets his empty beer bottle aside, his hand still playing with your hair.

As the movie continues, Joel watches it absently, his focus more on the soft strands of your hair between his fingers. He runs them through your locks, feeling the silky texture against his calloused hands.

After a few minutes of watching the movie, Tommy's hand slowly snakes up from your calves towards your thighs. He glances at you to gauge your reaction before his hand slides under your dress. His touch is warm and gentle as he starts stroking your thigh just below where it meets your hip.

Joel notices Tommy's hand disappear under your dress, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the TV, his fingers still gently playing with your hair. He feels you shift slightly, but your focus remains on the movie.

Tommy's hand begins to massage your thigh more firmly, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. Slowly, his hand moves higher, slipping under the fabric of your panties. You can feel his fingers gently flicking the material aside, exposing your slick wet entrance.

You shift slightly in your seat, your cheeks warming up as you feel the cool air hit your exposed pussy. You bite your lower lip softly, trying to focus on the movie, but it's becoming increasingly difficult as Tommy's fingers slowly spread your lips apart, revealing your wet, pink center.

Tommy moves his fingers closer to your entrance. He gently rubs your clit in slow circles, feeling your wetness coat his fingers. He then slides one finger inside slowly.

As Tommy's finger slowly enters you, and you let out a quiet gasp. Your legs spread slightly wider without you even realizing it, giving Tommy better access.

Tommy adds a second finger, pumping them slowly in and out while his thumb presses gently on your clit. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your hips starting to move involuntarily against his hand. The room is filled with the soft sounds of the movie and your suppressed noises.

Joel starts to notice the subtle changes in your breathing and the slight movements of your hips. He glances over at Tommy, noticing his hand under your dress. A slow smirk spreads across Joel's face as he sets his own hand on your knee, slowly sliding it up your thigh.

Joel's hand reaches the same spot where Tommy's fingers are working magic, and he gently pushes Tommy's hand aside. He slides one of his thick fingers into you making you whimper, Tommy starts to move his thumb on your clit as Joel begins to finger-fuck you slowly.

You start moaning softly as Joel lays your head down his lap. Your dress rides up, exposing your entire lower body to both men.

Joel adds a another finger, his thick digits stretching you open and Tommy continues to circle your clit. Your moans grow louder, muffled against Joel's chest as you feel completely stuffed. Joel notices your wetness dripping down your inner thigh and growls softly.

"Fuck, man... she's so fucking wet right now." His voice is a deep whisper, "Look at how she's takin' my fingers..." He picks up the pace, causing you to whimper and wriggle.

Tommy grins, his thumb working your clit faster in response to Joel's words. "She's lovin' it," Tommy murmurs back, his eyes locked on your face. Joel nods, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot.

Your head rolls back slightly as a loud moan escapes your lips. Joel's fingers hit your G-spot perfectly while Tommy's thumb presses firmly on your clit. The dual stimulation is overwhelmingly pleasurable. "That's it..."

"Fucking beautiful," Joel growls approvingly. His fingers pump vigorously now, curling deeply inside you while Tommy increases the pressure on your clit. "Such a good girl, takin' daddy's fingers so perfectly..."

The combination of their words and the relentless stimulation drives you closer to the edge. You moan louder, your hips bucking slightly against their hands.

Just as you're on the brink of orgasm, Joel suddenly stops moving his fingers and pulls them out completely. You let out a frustrated whine, your body aching with need.

Tommy also removes his thumb from your clit abruptly. "Not so fast," Joel says firmly,

Joel brings his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight is incredibly erotic and leaves you feeling empty and desperate. Tommy sits back on his heels, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your frustrated state.

"Look at her, all worked up and ready to explode. She's fuckin' gorgeous when she's like this."

Joel's large hand gently caresses your hair, his fingers threading through the strands soothingly yet firmly. "You wanna come, sweetheart? Gonna have to earn it."

You slowly sit up, your lips parted and chest heaving. Your eyes meet Joel's, then flicker down to his jeans. He nods slightly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Mmm... I think you know exactly how to earn it."

Your small hands work quickly to unbuckle Joel's belt and unzip his jeans. His smirk widens as he watches you, clearly pleased by your eagerness. He lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to push his jeans and boxers down his thick thighs, freeing his large, hardening cock.

Your mouth waters at the sight of Joel's massive, throbbing cock. You lean forward and wrap your lips around the thick head, sucking hungrily. Joel groans loudly, his hands gripping your hair tightly.

Joel's large hand grips your hair firmly, guiding your head up and down on his thick length. "Easy now, sweetheart... slow and steady," he groans out, "Take your time, doll, get used to my size."

You take his advice, sucking gently and slowly, trying to accommodate his massive girth. Your mouth is stretched wide around him, but you love the feeling of being filled so completely. "Fuck, yes... my good girl..."

As you diligently suck Joel off, Tommy quietly shifts behind you. His hands slide up your thighs under your dress, feeling your soaked panties. A soft groan escapes him as he spreads your legs wider and starts playing with your dripping pussy over the fabric.

Tommy's fingers find your clit and start circling it firmly. You whimper around Joel's thick dick, causing him to growl in pleasure. Tommy pushes the wet fabric aside and slides two fingers into your tight little cunt. "Fuck, I need to fuck this little cunt..."

Tommy pulls his fingers out of your pussy, making you whine around Joel's cock. He gently pushes you onto your side with your ass up in the air, still sucking Joel eagerly. Tommy sits on his knees behind you, quickly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

Tommy hikes your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare ass. He pulls down your ruined panties slowly, tossing them aside. His eyes are on your glistening pink cunt before he grabs his own thick cock and strokes it once.

Tommy slides his thick, hard cock through your soaked folds, groaning deeply as he feels how wet you are already from sucking Joel off and his fingers earlier. He presses the head against your entrance but doesn't push in yet.

"Jesus, Joel," Tommy mutters softly, "Look at this tiny little body. Her ass is so perfect, and this pussy..." He slides his length through your folds again, making you whimper around Joel's cock. "You see how wet she gets just from sucking you off?"

Joel groans and fists your hair tighter, gently fucking your face. "Look at how well she's taking both of us right now... her little throat is perfect for my dick, Goddamn, Tommy..."

Tommy starts to slowly push into your tight pussy, giving you time to accommodate his thick size. He grips one of your ass cheeks tightly and gives it a hard smack, making the soft flesh jiggle and turn a bright red. He groans deeply as he bottoms out inside you.

"Fuck... she's so goddamn tight." He smacks your ass cheek again as he slowly starts thrusting in and out,

Joel watches as Tommy fucks you slowly from behind while you continue sucking him off enthusiastically. The sight of Tommy's thick cock disappearing into your tiny body makes Joel's dick twitch in your mouth.

"Fuck..." Joel immediately grabs the back of your head again, watching you desperately try to take more of him into your little throat. When you gag slightly, it only makes his cock throb more. Tommy continues pumping into you from behind, one hand keeping a tight grip on your ass.

Joel's hand slides down your shoulder, pushing the thin strap of your dress aside. Your soft breasts spill out, bouncing slightly with each thrust Tommy delivers from behind. He groans deeply as he begins kneading one of your breasts, his calloused hands feeling up their weight and softness.

Joel watches your face as you continue to suck him deeply, your throat stretching around his thick length. He plays with your bouncing tits, squeezing them tightly before releasing them and watching them jiggle back into place.

The room fills with the squelching sounds of Tommy's thick cock pumping in and out of your tight pussy, your juices coating his length. The slurping and sucking noises of you enthusiastically bobbing your head on Joel's dick echo through the room.

Tommy's grunts grow louder as he pounds into you harder, making your breasts bounce heavily in Joel's hand. Joel moans deeply as your tight throat squeezes his length, your sloppy blowjob noises mixing perfectly with the wet sounds of Tommy nailing you from behind.

Joel's breathing becomes ragged as he feels his orgasm approaching. He leans back against the couch as he continues to knead and pinch your nipples roughly. After a few moments later his cock throbs violently in your mouth as he starts to cum, hot streams of thick cum shooting down your throat.

Tears roll down your cheeks from the mix of pleasure and being slightly choked by his size. You manage to swallow every drop. Behind you, Tommy continues to fuck you mercilessly, feeling your tight pussy clench around his cock. "Good fucking girl," Joel praises between gasps. Tommy grips your hips tighter, watching your body shake from Joel's intense release.

Tommy's grunts turn into a deep groan as he slams into you one last time, holding himself deep inside your pussy. You feel his cock throb and pulse as he unleashes his hot load directly into your fertile womb.

Tommy's thick load fills you completely, his hot seed mixing with your juices as he continues to pump it deep inside you. Joel pulls out of your mouth, watching hungrily as Tommy breeds you.

Tommy leans down, his face buried between your breasts as he pants heavily. "I'm gonna make a baby in this pussy," he growls possessively.

You lay on the couch, breathing heavily with flushed cheeks as Tommy slowly stops moving his cock inside you and tommy begins planting soft kisses along your neck and chin while Joel gently strokes your hair away from your face with one hand while keeping the other possessively wrapped around one breast.

"You're so fucking perfect right now... all swollen and filled with my brother's cum. You made daddy so proud..." He squeezes your breast gently, thumb brushing over the nipple.

You whimper softly, your body going limp as you nuzzle your face into Joel's hard stomach. "Mmh... Daddy..." you mumble sleepily. Tommy pulls out carefully, watching your pussy lips spread slightly, releasing some of his seed.

Joel looks down at you tenderly, running his fingers through your hair. "Shh, baby,"

"our baby girl needs some good rest now," Joel murmurs softly, exchanging a knowing look with Tommy. Tommy stands up, pulling his jeans back on. Joel gently scoops you up into his strong arms, cradling you bridal style against his chest.

As he walks to the bedroom, his arms holding you securely against his broad chest. He enters the dimly lit room, "There we go, baby,"

Joel gently lays you down on the bed, tucking a soft pillow under your head. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, smiling down at you tenderly. A few moments later, Tommy enters the bedroom with a warm, damp towel in his hands.

Tommy sits down on the bed next to you, gently spreading your legs apart. "Shh... don't move, sweetness," he whispers softly, slowly cleaning your sensitive folds with the warm towel. His other hand gently strokes your thigh. "Been such a good girl"

Tommy cleans his cum off your inner thighs, being extra careful and gentle as he removes any traces of his seed from your smooth skin.

Tommy stands up and removes his shirt and pants, leaving him in only his boxers. Joel does the same, removing his own shirt and pants. Both brothers climb onto the bed, one on either side of you, creating a protective cocoon around the sleeping beauty in the middle.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of their breathing and the gentle rustling of sheets as Joel and Tommy settle in on either side of you. Their warm bodies press against yours, Joel's strong arm wrapping around your waist while Tommy's hand rests gently on your hip.

You snuggle closer to Tommy, instinctively seeking his warmth. Joel takes advantage of your position, placing soft, gentle kisses along the length of your neck. His lips move slowly, savoring the taste of your skin as he marks you as his. "Mmm... so sweet,"

Joel continues to whisper sweet nothings against your neck, his voice low and soothing. "My beautiful girl... my sweet baby... I love you so much..." His hand slides up your side, caressing your skin gently.

Tommy pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, inhaling your scent deeply before the three of you fall asleep.

[rav3n-pascal22]

masterlist

summary: After a night out lands you on the front page of every tabloid and social media feed, you're in desperate need of a way to show your parents you can settle down and be trusted again. Harry Castillo is simultaneously everything and nothing they’d ever want for you. He's devastatingly rich, well-connected, and older, with a family name that’s always shared space with yours on charity lists and seating charts, but never quite comfortably. He’s perfect for you, and little do you know, you might just be perfect for him. With the tabloids and Gossip Girl circling like sharks, you strike a deal.

harry castillo x you series || fake dating, tabloids, Gossip Girl AU, socialite!reader, richgirl!reader, kinda bratty!reader, NYC, reader is in her mid 20s, old money lifestyle, trust fund babies, age gap, rich people problems, more tags to come as I write, potential smut, no spoilers for the movie, reader has a last name for storytelling purposes, no y/n || note: This is a Gossip Girl AU using canon characters for their personalities and core dynamics, but not bound by the show’s timeline or events. All characters are aged up and in their 20s. Only canon events that are explicitly referenced in the story are considered part of this universe. teaser

Part I: Girl Gone Wild (coming soon)

Part II:

Part III:

Part IV:

Part V:

(I actually have no clue how long this will be)

taglist (comment to be added): @ovaryacted, @boscogirlsworld, @or-was-it-just-a-dream, @marisemonteiroo,

[rav3n-pascal22]

A new clip and a new trailer dropping on Wednesday? We’re finally in The Fantastic Four: First Steps era. And it feels so good.

[rav3n-pascal22]

Show Me How

pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: age gap | oral (f & m) | unprotected sex | dirty talk | praise | virginity loss | gentle aftercare | no outbreak word count - 5.7k summary - He’s told himself a hundred times it can’t happen. He’s too old, too close to her family, too careful. But now she’s standing in front of him, asking him for the one thing he swore he wouldn’t give.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You’d always told yourself it was harmless.

The crush. The looks. The way your stomach flipped when Joel said your name or glanced your way for a little too long. He was older—older in a way that should’ve been enough to stop this before it started. He’d known your family for years. Helped your uncle redo the kitchen. Fixed your car once when it stalled in your mom’s driveway. Brought over soup when you got sick last winter and couldn’t get out of bed.

He was just… around. Always steady. Always quiet. Always Joel.

And somehow, over time, that steadiness started to feel like gravity.

You learned his habits without meaning to—when he left for work, what time he ran errands, how he always wore that same faded Texas Longhorns shirt to mow the lawn on Saturdays. You pretended not to notice the way he looked at you sometimes, like he wasn’t sure if he should be. Like maybe he wanted to look away but didn’t.

You never let yourself believe he could actually want you. Not really.

Which is why showing up at his house tonight felt like something you weren’t supposed to do. Like stepping out of line in a way you couldn’t walk back from.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.

About the fact that you were tired of feeling like the only one who hadn’t done anything—hadn’t been touched, kissed right, wanted for more than a second. And more than that, you were tired of not knowing. Of being afraid you’d do it wrong. Say the wrong thing. Be too soft. Too quiet. Not enough.

And if you were going to ask anyone—

It’d be him.

Joel, who never rushed you. Who always noticed. Who fixed things with careful hands and never made you feel small.

That was what brought you to his door.

And the second he opened it—hair damp, eyes tired, wearing sweatpants and a shirt you’d seen a dozen times before—your throat locked.

He blinked at you. Didn’t speak right away. Then: “You okay?”

You nodded, fingers curled in your hoodie sleeves. “Yeah. I was just… out. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Joel studied you for a beat, then stepped aside. “Come in.”

The door shut behind you with a soft click. You stood awkwardly in the entryway, clutching the sleeves of your hoodie like they might anchor you. Joel moved past without a word, walking toward the kitchen.

“Want some tea or somethin’?” he asked, already reaching for the kettle. “Still got the kind you like, I think.”

You nodded, unsure if your voice would even work right now. He filled the kettle. Lit the stove. Moved around the kitchen like this was just another Tuesday night and not the most reckless thing you’d ever done.

The house was warm. Familiar. You’d been here before—birthday barbecues, a couple of holidays, quick visits with your family—but never alone. Never this late. Never when the windows were dark and the only light came from that little flickering candle on the counter.

Joel glanced over his shoulder. “You can sit, y’know.”

You did. Quietly, on the edge of the couch like your body didn’t know where to land. Your heart wouldn’t stop stuttering. You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but it didn’t feel like much. Not yet.

He brought over a mug. Set it down on the coffee table. Then took the armchair across from you and let out a low sigh.

“So,” he said. “You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on?”

You looked down at the mug. Steam rising. Hands still tucked in your sleeves. “It’s dumb.”

“Doesn’t sound dumb.”

You let the silence hang for a beat too long. Then: “Can I ask you something?”

Joel nodded. “Course.”

Your heart climbed straight into your throat.

You stared at the mug, every nerve in your body buzzing, fingers twitching. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to say—it was that once you said it, everything would change.

“I don’t have a lot of experience,” you said finally. Quiet. Careful. “Like… any.”

Joel tilted his head. But didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I’ve kissed people. But I’ve never really…” You swallowed hard. “I just feel behind. Everyone I know has—done things. They know what they like. What to do. And I just… don’t.”

Joel leaned back a little. His jaw worked once. Still quiet.

“I’m not saying this right,” you said quickly. “It’s not that I want to rush or that I feel like I have to, I just—” You looked up, finally, and your stomach flipped. “You’re the only person I trust to… to teach me.”

He stared at you.

Not with shock. Not with judgment. Just stillness. Like he was trying to decide if you meant it—if you even understood what you were asking.

“Sweetheart…” he started, then stopped.

“I’m not trying to make things weird,” you rushed. “And I know it’s selfish. And I’m probably not even your type or whatever, and I’ll never bring it up again if it’s weird, I just—”

Joel didn’t say anything right away.

You could hear the second hand ticking on the clock across the room. The silence felt like pressure on your chest. You weren’t sure what you expected when you showed up here—but it wasn’t this. This long, still moment where he just looked at you like he didn’t know what to do.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Careful.

“You’re so young.”

It wasn’t harsh. It didn’t sound like judgment. If anything, it sounded like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

You stared down at your lap, throat tightening.

“I know,” you said softly, barely more than a breath. “You don’t have to say it.”

Joel sat up straighter.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, quickly but still gentle. “I’m not—I didn’t mean it like that.”

You gave a small nod, even though you weren’t really sure what to say. Your fingers curled tighter around the sleeves of your hoodie. Your eyes stayed on the floor.

“I just thought...” Your voice thinned out. You cleared your throat, tried again. “I just thought maybe—never mind.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you mumbled. “You’ve always been nice to me and I... I shouldn’t have ruined that.”

His heart dropped. He saw your hands shaking, saw the way you blinked too fast.

Then he saw it—your lashes catching just slightly, that faint shimmer in your eyes before you ducked your head.

You were trying not to cry.

“Hey,” Joel said, gently. “Hey, no—don’t do that.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t want you to feel bad. Or like I’m putting you in a weird spot. I just—”

Your voice cracked. You turned your face away.

And that was it for him.

“Aww, baby,” Joel said softly, barely more than a breath. “Come here.”

You didn’t move at first, but he was already leaning in, hand reaching out slow, warm, careful. His palm cupped the side of your jaw, thumb brushing under your eye like he could erase the tears before they fell.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured. “You hear me?”

You nodded—barely. Joel’s other hand found yours, steady and sure, lacing his fingers between yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I just didn’t expect it,” he said. “Didn’t let myself think about it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’ve wanted you,” he said, voice lower now, rough around the edges. “I just didn’t think I was allowed to.”

You looked up at him, blinking slowly.

Joel’s thumb traced your cheekbone.

“I’d take my time with you,” he said. “Make sure you felt safe. Make sure it felt good. I wouldn’t rush anything.”

You leaned into his hand just slightly—barely—but it was enough.

Joel’s eyes dropped to your lips.

“You still want this?” he asked.

You nodded, soft and breathless.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, sweetheart.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. His thumb still brushed your cheek, your fingers still curled inside his. You were so aware of the space between you—barely anything, and yet everything. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It made you ache.

Joel hesitated.

“You sure you want me to kiss you?”

God, he really was trying. Still giving you an out, even now. Even when your whole body was already leaning in.

You nodded again, just as shy. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

Joel leaned in slowly—like he was afraid to startle you—and tilted his head just enough to brush his lips against yours. It was soft at first, barely a kiss at all, more like a question. When you didn’t pull away—when your breath caught and your hand tightened around his—he kissed you again, deeper this time. Warmer.

His other hand slid to your waist, grounding you.

You shifted closer without thinking, your knees brushing his thigh. Joel made a low sound in his throat, something surprised and almost pained. He pulled you gently, letting you settle in his lap with careful hands, like he didn’t want to scare you.

You felt so small like that. Not in a bad way. Just—held. His arms around you, his mouth on yours, the scratch of his stubble against your skin. Every inch of him was solid and steady.

He kissed you like he had time. Like he didn’t need anything else.

When he finally pulled back, his hand lingered on your cheek.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, a little dazed. Your lips tingled, your heart pounding. “I—I’ve never kissed anyone like that.”

Joel smiled, soft and a little crooked. “Yeah? You did real good, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned, but you smiled too. You felt warm. Safe. Wanted.

And you still wanted more.

Joel kissed you again, deeper this time, like he was trying to show you what he couldn’t say out loud. His hands were warm where they held your waist, steady even though you could feel how tense he was—like he was holding back something big. Something sharp.

“Alright,” he murmured against your mouth. “We’re not gonna rush. Just want you to feel good.”

You nodded, breathless. “Okay.”

He leaned back, just enough to look at you. “Tell me somethin’, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

His thumb brushed your cheek. “What’ve you done before?”

You blinked, nervous all over again. “Not much. Just… kissing. A little touching.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “That’s good. Just wanna know what you’re comfortable with.”

You bit your lip. “I want this.”

“I know. But I still wanna go slow.” He paused. “Has anyone ever touched you? Down here?”

His hand slid gently along your thigh, stopping just shy of where you were warm and aching.

You shook your head.

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his voice low. “And you?”

Your cheeks flushed. You nodded. “Yeah. A few times.”

He smiled—gentle, not mocking. “Good. That’s good, baby.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck. “I’m gonna touch you now. Just with my hand. That alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Joel moved with such care—his fingers easing between your thighs, slipping beneath the hem of your shorts. When he found you already soft and wet, he groaned low in his throat.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You feel that?”

You nodded, shivering.

“This all for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Shit,” he exhaled. “You’re soaked.”

His fingers moved slow, parting you gently. You gasped, your hips twitching.

“Too much?” he asked.

“No,” you said, breath catching. “Just… new.”

He kissed the side of your face, murmured, “We’ll take it nice and easy. You tell me how everything feels, alright?”

You nodded.

He stroked you carefully—exploring, learning. Finding the spots that made your breath hitch, your thighs tighten, your lashes flutter. His fingers circled your clit, featherlight at first, and you whimpered.

“There it is,” he said, voice husky. “That feel good?”

You nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to speak.

“You’re bein’ so good for me, baby. You let me take care of you, yeah?”

Your whole body was warm and buzzing, every nerve alive under his touch. When he slid one finger inside, slow and patient, you gasped.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “Feels… full.”

He smiled against your cheek. “That’s what it’s s’posed to feel like. Just one for now. Gonna get you used to it.”

He curled it—just a little—and you whimpered again. Joel groaned.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he rasped. “Look at you. All pretty and sweet, takin’ my hand like it’s the only thing you ever needed.”

You clenched around him, involuntarily. His eyes darkened.

“Shit. You’re squeezin’ me already.”

You whimpered. “I—I don’t mean to—”

“I know,” he said, kissing you again, slow and deep. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

Joel kissed you through it, his lips warm and slow while his hand moved between your legs—gentle but focused, like he already knew your body better than you did. He didn’t rush. He didn’t push.

He paid attention.

Your hips bucked when his thumb brushed over your clit again, light and teasing. You gasped into his mouth.

“That feel good?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you—his eyes dark, focused. “Yeah? You like when I touch you there?”

Your face went hot, but you nodded again, biting your bottom lip.

He smiled—soft, proud, dangerously patient. “Good girl.”

Then he went back to it. Circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes while that one finger inside you pressed deeper, exploring every new reaction you gave him. You were trying so hard not to make noise, but your body betrayed you. Your thighs trembled. Your stomach fluttered. Your breath hitched and broke.

Joel noticed everything.

“Y’ever touch yourself like this?” he asked, voice low.

You hesitated. “Not… like this.”

He raised a brow. “Not like what?”

You swallowed. “Not this slow.”

Joel chuckled—quiet and warm against your skin. “That’s ‘cause you’ve never been taught right.”

His words hit low in your belly. You whimpered as he curled his finger again, hitting something deeper this time. Your legs jerked.

“There?” he asked, voice roughening.

You nodded, breath caught. “Y-Yeah—oh—there.”

Joel groaned softly. “Fuck, baby. You’re already close, ain’t you?”

You nodded helplessly.

“Think you can come for me? Just from my fingers?”

You whined. He took it as a yes.

His movements stayed slow, but more rhythmic now—his thumb drawing tight little circles, his finger pumping deeper, coaxing something out of you so carefully, so sweetly. You clutched at his shirt, fingers trembling.

“Joel,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. “I—I think I’m—”

“That’s it,” he said. “Let it happen. Let me feel it.”

And then you broke.

It hit you like a wave—sharp and hot and overwhelming. Your body seized around him, legs clamping tight as the pleasure surged up and through you. You cried out, loud and wrecked, and Joel caught it with his mouth, kissing you hard while his hand worked you through every second of it.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come.”

You were shaking when he finally pulled his hand away—slow and careful. He kissed your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“You okay?”

You nodded, dazed, still trembling in his lap. “Mhm. Just… I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Joel smiled. “You’ve got a lot more to feel, sweetheart.”

He kissed you again—longer this time. Slower. But now there was something heavier beneath it, something hungrier.

When he pulled back, his voice was deeper. Rough.

“Can I show you more?”

You looked up at him. Your limbs were still jelly, your heart still racing, but all you could think was yes. You trusted him. Even like this. Maybe especially like this.

You nodded.

“Yeah. Show me.”

Joel smiled when you said it. Not cocky—just warm. Soft around the edges, like the tension in him had finally given way to something sweeter. He tucked your hair behind your ear with a gentle hand, his other still cradling your bare thigh.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Then lie back for me.”

You nodded, breath still shaky. Your skin was buzzing—still oversensitive, still warm, but already aching for more.

You obeyed without a word, heart thudding as your spine met the mattress again. The air felt cooler now against your flushed skin, your body still buzzing from the first time he touched you like that.

Joel moved with you, settling between your legs without urgency. He leaned down and pressed a kiss just above your knee—then another, higher up. It was careful. Unrushed. Like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

“I want you to tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he murmured against your skin. “You just say the word, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “I will.”

“Good girl.”

His hands spread your thighs, slow and sure. Not to expose you—at least, not just that. More like reverence. Like unfolding something precious.

And then his mouth was on you.

Not forceful. Not greedy. Just… exploring. His tongue traced slow, soft circles, tasting you like he was learning something new and didn’t want to miss a detail. Every shift in your breath made him hum a little deeper, adjust, draw it out.

“Doing so good,” he murmured, pausing only to kiss the inside of your thigh again. “You let me know if it’s too much.”

It wasn’t.

It was everything.

You tried to be quiet, but your body had other plans.

Joel’s mouth moved with slow, deliberate rhythm—tongue tracing lazy circles that built heat like kindling. He didn’t rush you. Just stayed right there, steady and patient, until your hips started to lift, chasing every pass of his tongue like it might save you.

And he noticed.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely a rumble. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have it.”

His hands slid under your thighs, pulling you just a little closer, anchoring you in place like he was afraid you might float off. And maybe you would’ve. Your hands gripped the sheets, searching for something solid as your breathing turned erratic.

“Joel—” you whispered, and it cracked.

He groaned low in his throat—like hearing you say his name like that did something to him.

“Feels good?” he asked, and when you nodded too fast, too desperate, he just hummed against you. “Thought so. You’re so fuckin’ sweet down here.”

The tension coiled again—hotter this time, faster. Your legs started to tremble, and Joel didn’t let up. Just flattened his tongue, applied more pressure, and listened to you fall apart.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. “Let it happen.”

You came with a sound that barely made it out—a soft, broken cry, thighs clamping around his head as you shook through it. Joel didn’t stop. Didn’t even think about it. He kept licking you through every wave, gentle and relentless, holding your hips like you might slip away otherwise.

Only when your body finally gave out—hips twitching, breath coming in shallow little gasps—did he pull back. His mouth was shiny, lips wet, beard damp. And his eyes…

Like he’d just seen something holy.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned up slowly, palm cupping your cheek.

“There she is,” he murmured, voice like honey and gravel. “That’s my girl.”

Your lashes fluttered. You felt soft all over, unraveled, held together only by the weight of his gaze.

Joel smiled, just a little.

“You did so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ good.”

He leaned in before you could even catch your breath.

One hand still cradled the back of your head, the other brushing your thigh, grounding you. His mouth met yours in a way that felt earned—soft at first, just lips to lips, letting you settle into it.

You tasted yourself on him immediately.

Warm. Humid. Faintly salty. It made your whole body shiver.

You pulled back, eyes fluttering open like it surprised you. Joel didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours.

“Sorry,” he said, voice a little rough.

You shook your head. “No. I just… I’ve never…”

His thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s alright.”

You blinked up at him, still a little dazed. “That was… nice.”

Joel huffed a soft laugh, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that word. “Nice?”

You nodded, suddenly shy again. “I liked it.”

His smile turned quieter—almost reverent.

“Good,” he murmured. “That’s all I wanted.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up slowly, and he let you. Let you explore his skin, the soft stretch of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down beneath his jeans.

And still, he didn’t rush.

Just kept kissing you—until your body relaxed fully beneath his, until the last of your nerves melted into heat.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing under your eye.

“You alright?” he asked, quiet.

You nodded. “I want to… I want to do something for you.”

His brow creased, surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Your voice didn’t shake that time.

Joel hesitated like he was going to argue again, but then his gaze softened, and he gave the smallest nod. He leaned back against the pillows, watching you carefully—curious, cautious, but clearly affected.

You sat up slowly, heart pounding. Reached for his waistband with trembling fingers, giving him one last glance for permission. He lifted his hips, helping you ease his jeans down until he was bare to you.

Joel’s eyes darkened, but his voice stayed low. “You ever seen a man before? Like this?”

You shook your head, heart thudding. “Just… in pictures.”

He chuckled, more breath than sound. “Yeah?”

Your cheeks burned. “Not those kinds of pictures.”

He smiled, slow and fond. “Didn’t say they were.”

You swallowed. Then curled your fingers around him.

God—he was warm. Heavy. Hard already. You inhaled sharply as your hand moved, just a little, feeling the weight of him against your palm.

Joel groaned. Quiet. Barely restrained.

“Jesus, baby…”

You looked up, eyes wide. “Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head fast, eyes pinched. “No. Fuck, no. Just—been holdin’ back too long.”

You smiled, nervous but proud. Then you started to stroke him—tentative at first, just trying to feel out the rhythm.

Joel let out a soft, broken sound and tipped his head back.

“Just like that,” he muttered. “You’re doin’ so good.”

Your confidence grew with every soft grunt he made. Every time his hips twitched or his hand gripped the edge of the couch harder.

“You wanna try your mouth?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

You blinked. “I… yeah. But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes locked on yours—hungry and warm all at once. He cupped your cheek. “That’s okay, baby. I’ll teach you.”

You shifted down between his legs slowly, your knees pressing into the couch cushions as your hands settled on his thighs. He was already breathing heavier, watching you with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes that made your stomach flip.

“Start with your hand,” Joel murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Get comfortable first.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around him again. The weight of it still shocked you. How hard he felt. How hot.

You gave him a slow stroke. Then another.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Just like that. You’re doin’ perfect.”

The praise made your cheeks burn.

You looked up at him, a little shy. “Tell me what to do.”

Joel groaned. “Jesus, baby.”

His hand moved gently to your hair, not pushing, not guiding—just resting there. Steady.

“Kiss the tip,” he said softly. “Start there.”

You leaned in and pressed a hesitant kiss to the flushed head of his cock. His breath hitched. You did it again, slower, then let your tongue flick out to taste him.

“That’s it,” Joel said. His voice had gone hoarse. “Just your tongue, nice and easy.”

You licked a slow stripe up the underside, watching his stomach tense. He was biting back a sound, jaw locked tight.

“You can put it in your mouth now,” he said, rasping. “Only as much as you want.”

You parted your lips and wrapped them around him—just the tip at first. He exhaled sharply, hips twitching. You stilled, looking up at him in alarm, but Joel shook his head fast.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You sank a little deeper, hollowing your cheeks. He groaned, one hand tightening slightly in your hair, still not pushing.

“Use your hand too, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re so good, baby. So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your hand stroked the base while your mouth worked the rest. You tried to keep a rhythm, breathing through your nose just like he told you.

When he swore under his breath, you felt it in your chest.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did. Eyes wide, lips stretched around him, cheeks flushed.

He groaned—deep and wrecked. “Fuck, that’s it.”

You took him deeper, feeling your throat tighten, your eyes sting. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t—not with the way he was looking at you.

“You okay?” he managed to ask, even through the haze.

You nodded around him, and he growled.

“Goddamn. You were made for this.”

You pulled off slowly, a little breathless, a string of spit catching between your lips and the tip of his cock. He was flushed, panting, hands clenched into fists beside him.

“Holy fuck,” he said, voice blown out. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

You laughed quietly. “I told you I’d be a fast learner.”

Joel leaned forward and pulled you into his lap again. His hands were everywhere—your back, your thighs, the side of your neck.

“You still sure about all this?” he whispered.

You nodded. Quiet. A little nervous. But you didn’t look away.

His hand brushed down your thigh, then between your legs—stroking over you slowly, making sure you were ready. “Feels like you are,” he whispered. “But I need you to tell me.”

“I want you to,” you said, barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

He exhaled like that did something to him. Something deep.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna go slow, alright? Real slow. You just hold on to me.”

You nodded again.

Then he lined himself up, hand guiding, the heat of him settling right where you were softest. “You let me know if it’s too much.”

The pressure started before you could prepare for it—warm and wide and stretching you in a way you didn’t expect. You gasped, instinctively grabbing his arm, nails digging in.

Joel stopped instantly. “Too much?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered. “It just—hurts a little.”

He leaned down, kissed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

“I know, baby,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good.”

His hand found yours, threading your fingers together. Then he kissed you again—slow and deep, distracting, stealing your focus from the tight pull of your body adjusting to him.

Bit by bit, he eased in further, pausing when your breath hitched, pressing kisses to your mouth until the discomfort dulled to something else. Something warmer.

When he was fully inside you, Joel didn’t move. He just held himself there, breathing hard against your skin. “You okay?”

You nodded, stunned by how full you felt. “I think so.”

“God, you’re tight,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

His hand brushed your hair back, and he kissed you again—gentler this time, slower. “Tell me when I can move.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, breathless. “Okay… now.”

Joel started to move, just barely. A gentle pull back, then a slow press in, rocking his hips with an almost reverent kind of care. He didn’t take his eyes off your face—not for a second.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he murmured. “Feelin’ okay?”

You nodded, still a little overwhelmed. The stretch still lingered, but there was something else starting to build beneath it—heat, pressure, something that made your toes curl when he pushed a little deeper.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint. “There she is.”

He moved again, a little more confident this time, keeping his pace slow and steady. One hand stayed laced with yours. The other braced at your waist, thumb stroking gently over your skin.

Every inch of him felt impossibly warm. Full. You couldn’t believe how close he was—how real it was. And yet he still treated you like you might break.

“You okay?” he asked again, quieter now.

You bit your lip. “It… feels weird. Good. But—intense.”

His eyes darkened a little, smile soft at the corners. “Yeah? Gonna get better, sweetheart. Promise.”

He leaned down, kissed the side of your neck, murmuring something you barely caught—so tight, so sweet, can’t believe I’m inside you. The praise made your cheeks burn, made your hips tilt up without thinking.

He groaned. "Fuck, baby. Careful—you keep doin’ that, I won’t last long."

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, heat buzzing through your chest and down your spine.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I just want to feel you.”

Something about that must’ve broken the last of his resolve, because Joel kissed you again—messy this time, like he needed to feel your mouth while he kept moving inside you, slow but deep.

You gasped into the kiss when he hit a spot that made your whole body jolt.

“There?” he asked, voice low and strained.

You nodded fast. “Yes—God, Joel—”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He kept hitting that spot, rhythm just right, hand tightening around yours like he could feel every wave of heat building inside you. You were shaking, thighs trembling, nails digging into his shoulder—

And then it happened.

You came with a breathless cry, body locking up around him, vision going hazy at the edges. Joel groaned, burying his face in your neck as he lost it too, hips stuttering, voice rough against your skin.

Joel started to move, just barely. A gentle pull back, then a slow press in, rocking his hips with an almost reverent kind of care. He didn’t take his eyes off your face—not for a second.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he murmured. “Feelin’ okay?”

You nodded, still a little overwhelmed. The stretch still lingered, but there was something else starting to build beneath it—heat, pressure, something that made your toes curl when he pushed a little deeper.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint. “There she is.”

He moved again, a little more confident this time, keeping his pace slow and steady. One hand stayed laced with yours. The other braced at your waist, thumb stroking gently over your skin.

Every inch of him felt impossibly warm. Full. You couldn’t believe how close he was—how real it was. And yet he still treated you like you might break.

“You okay?” he asked again, quieter now.

You bit your lip. “It… feels weird. Good. But—intense.”

His eyes darkened a little, smile soft at the corners. “Yeah? Gonna get better, sweetheart. Promise.”

He leaned down, kissed the side of your neck, murmuring something you barely caught—so tight, so sweet, can’t believe I’m inside you. The praise made your cheeks burn, made your hips tilt up without thinking.

He groaned. "Fuck, baby. Careful—you keep doin’ that, I won’t last long."

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, heat buzzing through your chest and down your spine.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I just want to feel you.”

Something about that must’ve broken the last of his resolve, because Joel kissed you again—messy this time, like he needed to feel your mouth while he kept moving inside you, slow but deep.

You gasped into the kiss when he hit a spot that made your whole body jolt.

“There?” he asked, voice low and strained.

You nodded fast. “Yes—God, Joel—”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He kept hitting that spot, rhythm just right, hand tightening around yours like he could feel every wave of heat building inside you. You were shaking, thighs trembling, nails digging into his shoulder—

And then it happened.

You came with a breathless cry, body locking up around him, vision going hazy at the edges. Joel groaned, burying his face in your neck as he lost it too, hips stuttering, voice rough against your skin.

You must’ve dozed off at some point, warm and aching and curled into Joel’s side, barely able to keep your eyes open.

He didn’t fall asleep.

You stirred when you felt his hand brush your thigh—gentle, coaxing. Not trying to start something again. Just checking. Making sure you were okay.

“Hey,” he murmured. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You blinked, disoriented, but nodded. He helped you sit up slowly, one hand steady at your back. You winced just a little, hips sore, thighs still trembling—and he saw it.

“Easy,” he said, voice softer now. “I got you.”

Joel guided you to the bathroom, flipping on the dim light. He grabbed a towel, ran the tap until it was warm, and knelt in front of you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You watched him in the mirror—his face focused, his touch careful as he cleaned you up with slow, steady hands.

“Still okay?” he asked, glancing up at you.

You nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. Just… sore.”

“That’s normal,” he murmured. “First time’s not easy. But you did real good.”

You looked down, cheeks burning.

He noticed that too. Stood up. Pressed a kiss to your forehead.

When he walked you back to bed, he helped you lie down, then disappeared for a second. You heard the fridge open, the sound of water filling a glass.

Joel came back with a bottle of ibuprofen and handed you the water. “Take a couple. You’ll be stiff in the morning.”

You gave him a sleepy smile. “What, no post-sex pancakes?”

He grinned. “Tomorrow.”

He climbed into bed beside you again, tugged you into his arms like he needed you close to sleep. You let your body settle into his chest, warm and safe and still humming from everything that happened.

His fingers traced your spine, slow and rhythmic.

“Get some rest,” he said. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You believed him.

And for once, that was enough.