#navigating life in your 20s
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Video
youtube
How to Build Wealth in Your 20s
#youtube#how to get rich#millionaire mindset#how to build wealth#how to make money online#how to become a millionaire#how to get rich in 2024#advice for 20 year olds#lessons in your 20s#navigating your 20s#twenty year old advice#advice from millionaires#how to start a business#credit cards#advice from self made millionaires#advice from young successful millionaires#how to get rich advice from millionaires#20 year old advice#navigating life in your 20s#investing for beginners
0 notes
Text
.
#tag talk#so I'm back on fetlife rn and honestly I'm just gonna treat it like more blogging.#it's taken two days of digging but I've finally found the misfit autists who write poetry and journal their thoughts and I'm pretty stoked#sad divorced men who are rethinking their entire lives and Definitely aren't trans. really definitely aren't trans.#they just wanna be pretty women for Other Totally Unrelated Reasons.#anyway. I don't love being so visible but it's nice because that means other people are visible too. and I LOVE stalking people online#been thinking a lot about the post I saw on here a while back that was like âsome people need to stop posting all their thoughts onlineâ#and respectfully fuck off. I want to know how other people think and I can't just submit questionnaires to everyone#so it's nice when I get to see people's thoughts because then I can see how other people think and compare it to how I think.#I love people watching but it's harder on the internet because there's this layer of artificial aesthetic polluting all the data#this layer of performance. of polish. of edited appearances.#I just wanna see how other people behave. I learn by watching.#so it's nice to be able to click on someone's profile and see all their pics and posts and likes and comments and groups and friends and sh#because then i get to see an entire chunk of someone's life and social interactions all linked to a central hub. and that's so fucking cool#like... so much data to gather. so much to look at and think about. it's so fascinating.#and originally I didn't vibe with it but I've gotten more familiar with the setup and have developed a method for navigating the site.#so now I'm just opening up 20 million tabs to check out for later every time I see something new. I have learned So Many Things#I've always thought the âcarve your name into my skinâ people were meh. but it feels different when a thirty-something divorced man does it#there's a specific type of self-aware autistic guy that I fucking love so much. that's my drug
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
with the year coming to a close, i hope that anyone who's reflecting about how the year went remembers to be kind and fair to themselves with how you evaluate the year as a whole.
i think there are definitely times when life throws things that are... Not So Great at you. whether if it's some external circumstance that surprised you, or maybe your mentality wasn't at it's best. i wish for anyone who's encountered those kinds of challenges to be able to triumph over them and be able to say that they got through it.
heck, it might still be a work in progress even though you've kept chipping away at it, and that's ok! the results will show themselves eventually as you work through it! and i hope that we can all remember to be patient with ourselves as we go through these processes (learning, healing, etc.), because damn, it can be frustrating when you feel like you're "not there yet."
knowing that life can be rough at times, i think it's unfair to yourself (and others) to discount and downplay any progress you've made this year- whether if it's something that you did for the first time, or maybe you came to a new understanding and insight that you didn't have in the previous year.
it's not to say that you should undermine the validity of your experience with hardship, but to take the time to remind yourself what makes life worth living. to recall what moments were the most satisfying to you- and use it to strengthen your resolve for the next year and beyond. no amount of hardship will ever take away from the fact that you deserve to have hope that things will get better.
i hope that looking back on the year, you don't leave out the things you cherish. that you can remember the good that came this year. whether if the small victories are things like meeting someone new, trying something out for the first time, or making some strides in a long-term project/obligation...!
i wish everyone a happy new year! may it be prosperous, and that your life can move in a direction that's close to what you want out of life. you're all going to do great! remember to congratulate yourself for what you did well! despite everything, you're still here, and that's wonderful. never forget that!
#lizzy speaks#hello everyone. i know that there are *checks calendar* still 20 days left of december and 2023#but i've had a lot of strong emotions and feelings i've had to sort through as i've been thinking about how 2023 went for me#so a lot of what i've written here comes from the perspective of someone in their early 20s#it's like... a crash and burn from when you were a teenager thinking that you know everything#and realizing how big the world is and how many responsibilities there are#all while a feeling of overwhelm looms over as you try to sift your way through the world and adjust your understanding of it#for me i've definitely had an underlying thought that 'you should have your shit together by now why aren't you there yet'#and it's! not motivating! at all! to think that way. and it's made me more than ever want to be a friend to myself. to extend a patient-#kind voice to myself that reminds me that others are also trying to navigate these feelings and to accept that i'm not going to have an-#instantaneous understanding of how one goes about adulthood. and neither will they. even if they look 'put together.'#like... these people have also undergone similar stresses and along the way figured out how to navigate through that space#and personally i've found peace in knowing that there are people who are older than me. trusting that they've dealt with these things too i#some shape or form and that them living... being here.. is proof that we shall be fine in the end and that we will move past what plagues-#our mind. there's definitely been some... anger i've had this year that. school didnt teach me these things or skills!! i was so mad lol#but hey if we are little guys who are living on planet earth for the first time we shouldn't condemn ourselves to an unrealistic standard-#of going through life and being able to instantly do everything 'correctly' and know how everything works#i'm still working on improving that patience... and also trying to put in the work to understand these things.#in the midst of a very tough week for me i was tempted to say that 'nothing happened this year it was not productive'#but then i was like. that's. objectively not true if you just look at other things. also theres worth in life outside of 'productivity'#...i think i passed 20 tags at this point. but like. my favorite thing about 2023 was meeting so many cool awesome people!#who would've known that funny lil squid game could bring so many connections and friendships i cherish!#thank you so much! for being a part of my life and changing me for the better! for giving me many fond memories!#and i'm very grateful to anyone who supported me and my art this year... for sticking around even though i wished i could do more#it means the world to me knowing that there's proof that i exist and have touched someone's life in a positive way! thank you! truly!#ANYWAY. happy early new year. i hope everyone can nourish a friend in their head that extends acceptance and patience to themselves#as we try and make sense of the world together. there will be things that we don't understand yet! but one day we will! and it'll be like#wow! look how far i came! i'm okay! i'm alive! yipee! thank you for reading this post i made to get my feelings out! have a nice day!
19 notes
¡
View notes
Text
an excerpt from a text i`ve written about friendship. a topic close to my heart.
#life reflections#friendship#my writing#substack#navigating your twenties#twentysomething#twenties#20s#friends
5 notes
¡
View notes
Text
When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. Thereâs no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. Thatâs when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.
But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isnât just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. Itâs a lifeline, a place where weâve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.
Iâve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But Iâve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My familyâs lives depend on this.
It hasnât been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. Itâs exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone Iâve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.
And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesnât drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, âI see you, I hear you, and Iâm with you.â Itâs those moments that keep me going.
To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. Youâve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, weâre not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. Theyâre hungry, theyâre freezing, and I canât do this alone.
This fight is hard, but itâs not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my familyâs survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? Itâs powerful.
Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but itâs also the place where weâve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My familyâs lives are within reach, and together, I know weâll get there.
This campaign isnât just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.
The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.
Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.
Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.
Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link
Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link
Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link
Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link
If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.
Note: Thereâs even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link
@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe
@sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @thatdiabolicalfeminist @turtletoria
@sawasawako @feluka @appsa @anneemay @commissions4aid-international
@wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter @tortiefrancis
@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation
@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @elbiotipo
@el-shab-hussein @heritageposts @communistkenobi @deepspaceboytoy @molsno
@mesetacadre @forevergulag @gazafunds @northgazaupdates2 @freepalestinneee
@komsomolka @muppet-sex @nabulsi @fading-event-608 @buttercuparry
@prierepaiienne @interact-if @unified-multiversal-theory @inkstay
@socialjusticekitten-blog @socialgoodmoms @nowthisnews @socialgoofy @fightforhumanity-rpg-blog
@fightforhumanity-rp @queerandpresentdanger @90-ghost @timogsilangan @punkitt-is-here
@fox-guardian @hiveswap @valtsv @helppeople @ibtisams
@annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @vakarians-babe @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @tamamita
@apollos-boyfriend @akajustmerry @marnosc @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides
@belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish
@4ft10tvlandfangirl @communistchilchuck @fairuz @sarazucker @fairuzfan
@a-nautilus-as-pixel-art @13eyond13 @stil-lindigo @baby-indie-blog
@marnota @vivisection-gf @brutaliakhoa @the-bastard-king @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness
@neptunerings @malcriada @turian @girlinafairytale @abnormalicacid
@sylvianritual @mothblossoms @autisticmudkip @lesbianmaxevans
@nabulsi27 @palestinegenocide @orblesbian @palebluebutler @pallasisme
@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @morallyrainyday @jame7t @el-shab-hussein
@jonpertwee @flipton @bell-bones @ragingbullmode @envytherose
@rodent178 @tangledinourstrings @kraigerzz-blog @frogbrainedfool @the-ending-of-dramamine
@redsavesquare @uninvited-eon @glenbot @ultimateumbreon33 @pitbolshevik
@disastersim @airsigh @cowboy-queer @lapastelr0sa @sharingresourcesforpalestine
@rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @kropotkindersurprise @cruzwalters @la7ma-mafrooma @rosyish
@bookskittychad @streakoflavender @miraclemaya @devilofthepit @paper-mario-wiki
@gay-yosuke @cometcrystal @nb-marceline @cicadaland @charlott2n
@manletwizard @2blushie @antiauteur @acnologia-is-best-dragon @bitchmael
@penelopiaad @hashiramashonkers @laughtracklesbian @legallymean @b0nkcreat
@crapscicle @uwu-pinata @syntheticspades @momxijinping @longlivepalestina
@saberboi-1 @martinmynster @nako-funky @trans-leek-cookie @vaticinatrix
@moomoobug @narwa @twilightobservationtower @estrellasrojas @knxfesck
@lakeeffectbitch @fatbitchneedsfoodbadly @no-thats-absurd @humanmorph
@sandiwchirlinreal @tcda @misspiggyforvogueitalia @gamb0fficial @vincentspork
@gemstonedraws @frankendykes-monster @mizoguchi @kos-mos @ryoki-ph
@blackwoolncrown @nightwussy @freehologramreview @melancholy-hummingborb
@sister-lucifer @nonbinarymerbabe @raventhecoolestpersonever @ebenrosetaylor @wellwaterhysteria
@inkbomber @collectoroflovelythings @k00ldino @sundung @extrabitterbrain
@names-hard @killaltrock @thatdarngreenpixie-blog @angelsarecomputers @to00fu
@secretgoths @cauli-flawa @faraliniste @adrowninggrip @thesavagesnakeplant
@g-l-a-s-s-h-e-a-r-t-s-s @illuminated-runas @silverstone-gp @saintverse @whalefill
@emathyst9 @trasno-personal @turtles-on-turts @dendrosystem
@readingsquotes @bellybuttonblue2 @bees-fart-too @andiv3r-reblogging @sillyseer
@cloudedcari @tachycardial @evileyeamulet @pompompotato @shamemp3
@jihaad @italofobia @stealthjet @pinnyy @sivavakkiyar
@chronicowboy @bi-worm @ydic74the @amorosebeing @golvio
@dailyquests @punkitt-is-here @opencommunion @postanagramgenerator @a-scary-lack-of-common-sense
@paper-mario-wiki @prisonhannibal @a-shade-of-blue @ramshackledtrickster @punkitt-is-here
#help gaza#palestine#free palastine#free palestine#free gaza#humanity#human rights#humanitarian aid#gaza genocide#gaza#palastina#txt#txt post#txt 2024#text#yemen#lebanon#oman#iran#tumbrl
7K notes
¡
View notes
Text
GREEDY
â Dr. Jack Abbot x fem! reader || WC: 3k
SYNOPSIS: You crave to feel your lover differently, and Jack is happy to satisfy your needs.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Age gap implied [Jack is late 40s, reader is late 20s/early 30s]. Power imbalance mention [Attending/Resident]. Established "secret" relationship. Creampie. Unprotected sex (p in v). Mentions of oral (f! receiving) & fingering. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Dirty talk. Brief mentions of birth control & safe sex practices. They fuck nasty and are down bad for each other. Reader is described to have hair. Jack Abbot is a really good partner. Brief mentions of Jackâs scars & allusions to a vasectomy he had in the past.
A/N: This all came to me in a dream lmao. I just had a certain itch I needed to scratch and I wanted to talk about getting creampied by a fine ass old man, so this was the product of that thought. I hope you all enjoy this and join me in feening for this man. Proofread by moi. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3
NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Youâd never really consider yourself a greedy or selfish person, but when it came to Jack Abbot, you just couldnât help yourself.
On your first day of residency at the Pitt, your attention instantly gravitated to him. He carried himself so confidently at times, never crossing the line of stepping into arrogance like some of the surgeons he complained about. He kept his head high, back straight, and shoulders flared as he maneuvered around patients and rooms alike, commanding every space with a calm confidence you almost envied.
Coffee and light teasing exchanged in the emergency department turned into cold beers and tipsy laughter at the local bar everyone frequented after long shifts or on their off-days. One drink too many resulted in a not-so-accidental one-night stand with the enigma of a man that was Dr. Abbot. You wondered if he regretted it by the time you woke up in the morning, hair a mess over your head, going in different directions; doing your best to bury the disappointment tugging at your chest when the other side of the bed was found empty.
Much to your surprise, light clanking from your kitchen forced you back on your feet, spotting Jack working over the stove, the smell of eggs and fresh toast wafting through your apartment. His jeans hung low on his hips, unbuttoned, with his black briefs hiding the rest of him. He turns when he senses your presence, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a small grin at the sight of you, slightly disheveled and wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before.
âMorning. Stole some of your coffee; hope you donât mind.â
You were doomed from the start.
It never stopped after that; a one-night stand turned into several over the course of one month, and one month turned into two. You found yourself in the consistent presence of Dr. Abbot, who was always there to satisfy your needs, whatever they may be. He learned how to read you, your likes and dislikes, your quirks, and the things that made you happy and tick in agitation. The few weeks you spent with him in secret amounted to the moment Jack popped the question of exclusivity one night, and you were more than happy to say yes.
Now here you were, Dr. Abbotâs favorite night-shift resident at work and his girl when you two were alone. You already had him wrapped around your finger, hitting close to five months of being with him and selfishly enjoying his company in this bubble youâve created for yourselves away from prying eyes.
And yet you still wanted more.
You couldnât quite explain what happened along the way, why you simply couldnât stop finding any little moment to touch him, to kiss him, to taste him. You just knew you wanted every part of him to yourself, and he was ready to give it.
All but one.
Your sex life with Jack was already more than satisfactory, and even using a word as simple as that was a disservice in describing your experiences with him. Hell, youâre pretty sure heâs ruined you for anyone else, and you donât plan on finding another to take his place any time soon. But there was this one pesky thing that still kept you separated from him.
The damn rubber.
Jack was almost too good for youâa softie despite his take-no-shit attitude, always sweet and considerate when it came to you. Of course, that translated to when he fucked you, prioritizing your safety and pleasure above all else, including maintaining recommended sexual habits. You canât blame him; heâs not an idiot, and neither are you, but at times it irks you to still have something getting in the way of feeling him the way you wanted.
It almost pissed you off how badly you craved him, desperately holding on to him and pulling him closer when he was too busy fucking you into the mattress. His face dug into the crook of your neck, grunting as your walls fluttered around his length, your arousal covering the thin non-latex material that separated your bodies. Just the thought of it made you whine, clawing at his shoulders and wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.
You knew he was getting close from the way his breathing rumbled deep within his chest, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts picked up in force. The words that had been swirling in your head for the past 30 minutes slipped out of your mouth and into his ear before you could stop them.
âFill me up, baby.â
He groans when he hears you, slamming his hips hard against yours, a curse tumbling from his mouth as he fills up the condom. He draws a final sigh from you before pulling out to dispose of the wretched thing while you remain occupied with taking a peek at his ass as he heads to the bathroom.
Having sex without protection was something Jack didnât think to bring up or mention. The last thing he wanted was to make you assume all you were to him was a toy to be used when it's convenient and discarded when he grew bored of you. He already had the displeasure of approaching sex that way when he was younger and reckless; he vowed to never do that again, especially with you. And of course, you didnât want to potentially ruin the relationship youâve worked so hard to build with your attending.
As much as he wanted to deny it, your words tormented him, playing in his mind on loop so frequently he started dreaming about feeling you with no barriers, claiming you properly. He knows once you hit that stage in your fairly new relationship, thereâs no going back. From the way you struggled to hide the slightest tinge of disappointment whenever he ripped open the foil wrapper in front of you, he knew the conversation would happen eventually.
âWhat if next time, we just donât use anything? Protection, I mean.â You blurt out to him in the kitchen, wringing your hands together as Jack busied himself washing the dishes after dinner. He finished up and dried his hands, pivoting to face where you leaned against the island.
âIs that what you want?â He asks carefully, his eyes boring into yours gently, the way he always did when speaking to those he cared about. âSurprises arenât exactly what Iâm worried about; weâre good on that end, but, itâs whatever you want to do, sweetheart.â
âYes, I want to try it out.â You feel his hands coming towards your waist, a comforting gap of space between as you mess with the collar of his t-shirt. âItâs not that our sex life isnât fun or anything; I very much enjoy sleeping with you.â
âI sure hope so considering how much I risk pulling my back doing all the work.â You playfully slap his chest, rolling your eyes at his teasing smirk.
âI justâŚI want to feel you, all of you. Itâs like an itch I canât scratch sort of thing, and it feels stupid explaining it, but itâs a thing, okay. Donât fucking laugh at me.â
Jack couldnât help but chuckle dryly at your mild panic, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you, planting a kiss on your cheek and squeezing your hips in reassurance.
âNot laughing at you, I just think itâs cute how flustered youâre getting when youâre begging me to fuck you raw.â
âNow why are you saying it like that? It sounds raunchy coming from you.â He only laughs harder.
âI think weâre way past the point of calling what we do raunchy in our relationship, donât you think?â Thereâs a faint glint in his hazel eyes when he takes in your features again, his fingers pinch your chin, holding your gaze. âBesides, you arenât the only one whoâs been thinking about it. I was just waiting for you to crack first.â
Thatâs how you found yourself in this position now.
Your cunt pulsed from the lavish attention bestowed by the older man above, who already made you cum once using his mouth and again in combination with his thick fingers. Even with the two orgasms you gladly took, your body clenched around nothing as you watched Jack lazily jerk himself off, dark eyes raking over your bare body. By now, heâd be tearing open another one of those flimsy foil packets and slipping inside you. Instead, your legs subconsciously widened even more, beckoning him closer to you in an attempt to take you.
Notching the tip of his length at your entrance, he groaned at the feel of you, shifting his hips to grind against your heat as more of your wetness coated the underside of his cock.
âLast chance to take it back, sweetheart.â He quirked, meeting your hazy eyesâglossed over and feral as you admired his broad silhouette and tempting movements.
âShut up and fuck me already.â You only seemed to be thinking with your downstairs brain, your thirst for more overriding common sense, not that he was complaining.
âYes, maâam.â
He angled himself over you, keeping his observant eyes on your face as he started pushing into you, slowly sinking deeper into your welcoming body. Jack didnât expect you to feel so damn hot, your walls surrounding his cock like a vice, like you were made for it. Your hands flew to grasp his bicep, gasping at the bare feel of him for the first time. Eyes fluttering closed, a whimper lurched out of your mouth when he was down to the hilt, the trimmed hairs by his pubic bone rubbing against your sensitive nub, causing you to twitch around him on instinct.
As he sat inside you and let you adjust to him, you could feel everythingâevery ridge, every vein, every swell and throb his body gave you, even his damn pulse. It was bringing you closer to the deep end.
âJackâŚâ You mumbled his name, blinking slowly as his nostrils flared.
âHold on, hold on, donât move.â Large hands clutched your hips, keeping you pinned to the mattress with his strength. âFuck, you feel so good.â
âYeah?â The compliment took the rest of the empty space in your head, your thighs taking their rightful place around his waist, knees bracketing over his sharp hips.
âSo damn warm and wetâŚGod.â It sounded like Jack wasnât talking to you anymore but reiterating his own innermost thoughts, filter gone. His attention trailed down to where your bodies were joined together, shifting his hips back to watch your lower set of lips part for him, your slick covering his skin. You moved towards him, already missing the stretch of him inside you, and Jack was just as eager to give you what you needed.
âLook at her. Taking me so well, like she always does.â Thrusting forward, he didnât spare you an inch, drawing back just to pound into you again and again.
The friction of his hips intensifies the more he gets to feel you, and soon enough the four walls of your shared bedroom are filled with the audible slapping of skin as you lose yourselves in each other. Jackâs hips pummeled into you with a force you werenât completely unfamiliar with, but this carnal need to have more of him creeps onto the surface. Your nails raked down his freckled arms and the planes of his shoulders, encouraging Jack to buck into you harder with your sweet cries.
It all felt too fucking good, like a dream.
You didnât want him to stop, your legs winding tighter around his torso, mewling when he hit that textured spot tucked inside you with practiced accuracy, head thrown back against the pillow as you focused on catching each one of his harsh lunges. A hand sneaked to the back of your head, grasping the nape of your neck and angling your face to look up at Jack, the smallest bit of sweat lining up on his forehead.
âKeep those eyes on me, baby. Want to see your pretty face when you come for me.â He practically snarled over you, leaning down to roughly plant a kiss, his tongue swirling around yours, swallowing all of the petulant sounds he brought out of you. âPerfect fucking pussy, and all mine.â
âAll yours, Jack.â You parroted, nodding dumbly from the impact of his movements against you. âIâm all yours, sir.â
His grin turned predatory at your needy words, both hands curling around your thighs to angle them higher up, your knees now pinned to your chest, allowing him to dig just a bit deeper into you. You jolted from the change in position, one hand rushing to press against his lower stomach, fingertips skimming the raised scars along his side, long faded and meshed with the rest of him.Â
He was unfazed by your movements, holding you steady, and upped his efforts against you. Your arousal practically seeped out of you, pooling at the base of him and dripping down his balls. Another whimper echoed in the room, your clouded gaze glanced down to watch Jack fuck you, mesmerized at the shine you left over him. You didnât need to warn him that another release was swirling in your gut; your body language did all the talking for you.
âKnow youâre close, honey. Can feel you getting tighter around me, damn near choking me.â He grunts, adding a swivel to his precise advances into you. âCâmon, need you to drench me. Let me feel you.â
Three more drives into you, and your third orgasm hit you so ardently your whole body trembled, a silent cry flying out of your mouth. Jack observed your reaction with hungry eyes, cooing at your cock-drunk expression, drool starting to spill out the corner of your lip.
He knew it was only a matter of time before he hit his peak, the tension in his body building in his core, and with the way you havenât stopped convulsing around him, it will catch him off guard sooner than later. Through the haze of ecstasy, you found your voice and mumbled at him, the lust-filled mania that started this whole ordeal possessing you.
âJack,â his attention was drawn to your face, plump lips and warm cheeks mirroring his ravenous stare, âI need you to come inside me.â
âYou want it that bad, huh?â He was struggling to keep it together, his mind already hyper-focused on finishing inside until you took every damn drop. âSo desperate to have your old man fill up your greedy pussy, hm?â
âYes! Yes!â Tears streaked down your face at the mere thought of getting to feel him like this; the promise of getting what you wanted after so long was enough to overwhelm you. âPlease, Jack. I need it; need to feel it. Want to feel you tomorrow, baby.â
That fired him up; the sight of your watery eyes motivated him to flex his forearms and force you to take all of him as he chased his prolonged release. A few more jabs and he was done for, digging his face into the crook of your neck and biting your shoulder to suppress the loud growl that buzzed through him. His hips were flush with yours, giving you everything he had to give, his thighs trembling and stomach almost cramping from his violent climax.
His orgasm felt never-ending; he just couldnât stop, your body melting from the inside out as you held him above you until he plopped on top of you, pelvis subconsciously grinding into you more, never wanting to leave your warmth.
âJesus.â You heard Jack murmur against you, placing light kisses over the indents of his teeth on your shoulder. His mouth followed a path up to the column of your throat, your jaw, and to your lips, offering you sweet pecks. âYou alright?â
âMhm,â you hummed at his affections, the rest of your limbs becoming one with the mattress under you. âDidnât break me yet, though I donât think I can feel my legs.â
âMeans I did my job well.â Both ends of his mouth curl upwards, mimicking his expression as he gently wipes your tears away.
Carefully, he took hold of your legs, bringing them back down to the bed, rubbing them with an apologetic smile as you quivered. With ease, Jack maneuvers himself to pull out of you, his eyes going to your pussy and the mess he made of you. He catches the way his spend drips out of your opening and stains the sheets below you, a sight he was committing to memory for the first time.
A carnal urge flares within him, his curiosity getting the best of him as he brings a hand to the most sensitive part of you, his thumb spreading you out to get a better look at you. More of his seed dribbled out of you, tainting the thick digit as he smeared more of himself over the rest of your cunt. You gasped at the sensation, his thumb circling over your slick pearl, squirming under his touch from the overstimulation.
âI get the appeal now,â he says to himself again, swiftly bringing two of his fingers to scoop the rest of him and sink them back into your hole, serving as a plug to keep his release inside you. You keened at him, clutching his thick wrist as he breached your body with his hand, your breath hitching in your throat.
âJackâŚâ
âSo pretty when youâre so full of me.â You clench around him, the sensation sending a current of pleasure coursing through him, his cock twitching again at the thought of having you again. âYou can take a little more, right?â
Who were you to say no to that? You couldnât get enough of him, and when it came to Jack Abbot, you always made room for seconds and more.

ÂŠď¸ ovaryacted 2025. Please donât repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!
#jack abbot smut#jack abbot x reader#jack abbot x you#dr jack abbot x reader#jack abbot imagine#dr abbot x reader#dr abbot#the pitt#the pitt fanfiction#the pitt x reader#the pitt hbo#the pitt 2025#shawn hatosy#ovaryacted fics#ââą nic works âąâ
3K notes
¡
View notes
Text
We donât argue!
Summary: Bucky overhears a conversation that makes him worried about your relationship. He acts out of emotion instead of logic.
âIâm just saying, if there are no fights, there is no romance! Itâs just boring!â Yelena spoke firmly as she, Ava, and Walker sat in the back of the armored van.
Buckys ears perked up, he wasnât trying to be nosy, not necessarily. However, that was the only conversation to be heard and now he was helplessly tuned in.
âWhat do you mean? I feel like itâs healthy not to argue! Not everything in life should be a struggle!â Ava rebutted, a smug smirk on her face.
âThere needs to be a balance though, fire and ice!â Walker chimed in and Yelena nodded in agreement.
Bucky smiled to himself, thinking deeply about his relationship with you. The two of you had never argued, never bickered really. There were some slight side comments made here and there but it was never bigger than that.
âI feel like if you never argue youâre too comfortable! Where is the spice? Where is the passion?â Yelena clutched her chest dramatically making both Ava and Walker laugh loudly.
Bucky felt different after hearing that, shifting around in the driver's seat. He always felt safer being the one to drive because it meant he was the one in control. Plus, Alexei was chaotic and his driving made everyone else car-sick.
Alexei was sitting beside Bucky in the passenger seat, munching on a bag of chili-coated peanuts. He eyed Bucky from his peripheral vision, noticing he was now chewing nervously on his bottom lip. âWant snack? You hungry?â He shook the bag of peanuts toward Bucky.
âNo, Iâm fine,â he raised his fingers in protest against the steering wheel, letting out an annoyed sigh as he heard the conversation in the back continuing. Alexei shrugged and went back to looking out the window. He was ready to call it a night as his eyelids felt heavier.
When they got to the watchtower, Bucky was unloading the van with Yelena, and the rest of the team was upstairs making dinner. The two of them grabbed all of the sleeping bags and extra items they used for their weekend mission when Yelena felt Bucky's brooding hit an all-time high.
âOkay, big guy! What is the matter?â Yelena stood with her hand on her hip as Bucky pouted around her. âYou look like someone flushed your fish.â
âFlushed myâŚ? What? Nothing's wrong.â He rolled his eyes, throwing a bulky backpack over his shoulder.
âYou started to drive like Alexei at the end there. We got home 20 minutes before the navigation system said, Youâre not fooling me.â She slammed the back of the armored van shut and started to walk away when Bucky stopped in his tracks.
âY/N and I just never really argue and now Iâm worried.â He mumbled as Yelena kept walking, she heard him but had no plans of slowing down.
âNever?â She asked incredulously.
âNope, never.â Bucky followed her as they took the elevator back to their floor, he stared at his scuffed boots as he waited for her to respond.
âWell, you havenât exactly had an easy go at things. Maybe she is peacekeeping, and thatâs not always a bad thing.â Yelena felt guilty for her words back in the van, knowing Bucky was going to harp on them for the next few days if not, weeks.
âBut you saidâŚ.â Bucky wasnât able to finish before Yelena cut him off.
âI was just talking to pass time! Donât take it so seriously! Y/N is nice girl!â Yelena shrugged before they went their separate ways and Bucky retreated to his bedroom, deciding to skip dinner tonight and go straight to bed instead.
ââââââââ
The next morning Bucky couldnât shake the conversation that Yelena and he had and decided that he was going to try and start an argument with you. He knew it was silly, and that heâd come to regret it but he was desperate to know if you refrained from expressing your feelings to keep him comfortable.
Bucky picked his phone up from his nightstand, it was charging overnight and he was eager to hear your voice even if he was in his head at the moment. He called you, letting out a heavy sigh as the phone rang.
âHey, handsome! Iâm so glad youâre finally home. I missed you!â Your voice was soft, cheery, and everything he needed right now. He was however laser-focused on starting a fight and didnât want to waste any time trying.
âHey! Why didnât you call me last night? I had sent you a message when we got back.â He tried his hardest to sound frustrated, straining his voice to sound raspier than usual.
âOh! I assumed you wanted your sleep! You usually come home, eat, and sleep so I didnât want to throw off your schedule, Iâm sorry baby!â Your voice was caring, kind, and gentle as always. You were also 100% right, and he knew it.
âRight, rightâ he mumbled, trying to think of something additional to say to change the trajectory of the conversation.
âAre you alright?â You knew by the sound of his voice that he had something on his mind.
âNo, Iâm reallyâŚ.â He couldnât believe he was doing this, Was he an overly emotional teenage girl? His emotions were suddenly heightened, and his head was spinning. âIâm actually really upset that you didnât check in with me, it made me feel like you werenât the least bit concerned.â
âBucky? Baby? Iâm always concerned about you! Where is this coming from?â He could hear the sudden tremble in your voice, making his stomach drop with guilt.
âLately I just donât feel so sureâ he lied, he knew he was lying but he couldnât stop himself, he wanted you to fight back, say something that would flip this conversation on its ass but instead you just started to profusely apologize.
âIâm so sorry honey! I never meant to make you feel like that. I always care, I love you. So much!â You sniffled and thatâs when he knew he couldnât continue the charade.
âWell, I gotta go.â he hung up the phone, turning it off before throwing it haphazardly on his bed and throwing his head back into his pillows in frustration.
Twenty minutes later he heard a sudden knock on his bedroom door, and outside of it stood a very irritated Yelena Belova.
âBarnes, open up or Iâll knock this damn door down!â
Bucky groaned as he got out of bed, unlocking his door and stepping aside to let Yelena in. He assumed she must have heard everything that had just gone on, and wanted to yell at him for it.
âNow, why in the hell would you do that?â She stood with her hand on her hip as Bucky sat back down on his bed. âYour girlfriend has been texting me nonstop for the last fifteen minutes asking me if something happened to you.â She scrolled through the numerous texts you had sent her for proof âI knew the conversation had gotten into your pea-sized brain but you really tried to start an argument with her?â
âWhat conversation?â Your voice trembled as both Bucky and Yelena hadnât heard you enter the room. Bob stood beside you for a moment before going to hide in the corner in his favorite beanbag chair.
You had crumbs of mascara littered across your cheeks, your eyes were red like they had been freshly washed with soap and Bucky felt an immediate wave of guilt wash over him.
âDoll? Shouldnât you be at work?â He wasnât sure why he said that maybe it was a startled reaction to seeing you but Yelena turned to him âYou wanted a fight, I think youâre going to get one.â She audibly scoffed as she stepped out of his room, shaking her head obviously as she stepped out of your way.
âThatâs all youâre going to say to me? After you accused me of not caring about you?â You had the attention of all of his teammates, they had stopped in their tracks as they watched the dramatic sight unfold around them.
Bucky stepped toward you, he felt like the worldâs worst person right now and he wanted to fix it immediately but as soon as he stepped toward you, you stepped back and further away.
âWhat is Yelena talking about? What conversation Bucky?â You had your arms folded, and now your sadness flickered to anger and Bucky could feel the heat radiating off of you.
âI donât knowâŚâ he quietly mumbled as he looked around at his teammates who were all tuned into the drama.
You turned to Ava, Yelena, and Walker who were whispering to one another. âWhat the fuck is going on? Someone speak! Now!â
None of the team had ever seen you upset, for as long as youâd been around them they had known you to be shy, and reserved. Alexei laughed to himself knowing never to make a woman especially a woman who loves you angry, and Bucky had really done it now.
âYelena said that people in relationships who never argue are boring, and I guess that got into his head. Which might I add is pretty easy to do, am I right?â Walker laughed obnoxiously, trying to ease the tension in the room.
âUncalled forâ you scoffed and rolled your eyes. âIâm mad at him right now but that was still a low blow even for you.â
Yelena and Ava mirrored wide-eyed expressions at one another as Walker took that as a sign to be quiet.ďżź
Bucky fought back a smile knowing how much Walker got under your skin, and even if you were pissed at him right now youâd still defend him. âPlease? Come into my room and we can talk.â His eyes were pleading, and you knew he hated every second of this very emotional outburst happening in front of everyone.
You followed him into his room, sitting on his bed as he paced in front of you.
âTalkâ your tone was rough, still obviously frustrated.
âYelena suggested that maybe we didnât argue because you were trying to peace keep, and it made me feel like maybe when things bother you, you donât want to tell me. Maybe you think I canât handle it? I just wanted to push the boundaries today and I shouldnât have.â He had run his hand through his hair about ten times just getting all of that out to you, and now he was standing still like a statue waiting for you to respond.
âYouâre right, you shouldnât have. We donât argue because youâve never upset me until today. I thought we were good at communicating and then you said you felt like I didnât care. Bucky, if anything I care too much!â Your voice cracked and Bucky felt like his heart did too.
âIâm sorry for what I said, honey. I swear I didnât mean it. I know you care about me, and I never question that. I guess I just didnât want you to think what we have is boring or think you couldnât talk to me.â He sat down beside you, reaching for your hand cautiously.
You let out a chuckle, a small breathy one but Bucky still heard it. You grabbed his hand, setting it on your lap as your fingers intertwined. âYou think, that I would ever consider you or our relationship as boring? I mean look where we are right now.â
âI mean, I donât know. I donât know why I let it bother me so much.â He nervously chuckled, feeling you ease up beside him. âI love you and Iâm sorry for that, it was immature and I shouldâve just talked to you. I never meant to make you cry, and Iâm sorry for that too.â
You leaned over, kissing his cheek softly. âI love you too, and yeah next time just talk to me instead of being a teenage girl about it.â He knew you were teasing but his cheeks still grew warm with embarrassment.
âFor what itâs worth, can I say something?â He was holding back a laugh, and you could tell by the way his lips were tightly pressed together.
âJust say itâ you smiled knowing what was coming next just by the way he was looking at you.
âYouâre sexy when youâre mad. It was doing something to me.â He knew that would make you smile, but wasnât necessarily a lie either.
âYou like that I put Walker in his place, donât you?â
âYeah, yeah I didâ Bucky chuckled before leaning over taking your face in his cupped hands to passionately kiss your lips like a man starved.
âGood because if he keeps making jokes like that Iâm going to put poison ivy in his suitâ you mumbled between kisses.
âOoooh- promise?â Bucky chuckled as the two of you flopped down on his bed to continue kissing, your legs wrapped around his.
#Bucky Barnes#Bucky Barnes fan fic#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes angst#Bucky Barnes x you#Bucky x reader#my writing
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
hi everyone! i know ive been super offline (for good reason lol) but i did want to share something on here.
the biggest reason why i haven't been posting is because i've been organizing really heavily with the filipino migrant population in chicago with the tanggol migrante (defend migrant) network that is based in many major cities in the us. we provide know your rights trainings, organize support systems for people with uncertain status, and have an emergency hotline for those detained.
recently, we were made aware of 2 filipino migrants in ICE detention in indiana, which falls under our jurisdiction as the closest philippine consulate is in chicago. one is a 71 year old working grandmother named tita r, who is currently in a clark county facility and has been since march, even though she is a legal green card holder and thus a us resident.
as you would expect, the conditions are horrible. she has been shackled, gone days without her kidney and blood pressure medication, and spends all of her time in a windowless, unsanitary hall filled with bunk beds and other people in detention. the only respite is video calls with her family, which cost $25 for 20 minutes, and is incredibly hard to navigate. at one point, she was being transferred so many different places, her family had no idea where she was.
this week i traveled with fellow organizers to kentucky, where her son and daughter are based. we were privileged to meet with them and offer support during this horrible time. tita r had her master hearing, where it was decided she would have to wait until next month to hear the decision of whether or not she will be deported back to the philippines. tita r has been in the country for over 40 years, and has built her life and raised her family here.
every time i am on a video call with her, i always want to cry, out of both sadness and laughter, because she may be one of the funniest people i have ever met. she calls everyone either boo-boo or bobo, which is always an endearment. she was showing the other people in her facility, look how tall my grandson has gotten! it breaks my heart to hear that she thinks she will die in detention due to the conditions. we learned that at one point, her blood pressure was at 204.
the stories of filipino migrants aren't exactly shared often within the us, where the narrative mostly centers around latinos, especially mexicans. but filipinos are the second largest undocumented population in the us. every day, 7,000 filipinos leave the philippines to seek work elsewhere, because us imperialism has destroyed the country's economy, and idea of sovreignty.
we are raising money for tita r, because the philippine consulate hasn't released funds that her family is ENTITLED TO through the assistance to nationals fund, and as a result her family has had to shoulder the burden of legal fees, on top of the unimaginable situation they are going through. tita r's final hearing is next month, august 7th. we're trying to raise as much money as we can, and collect signatures for a petition demanding her release. i will include links here, but you can also go to @tanggolmigrantenetwork or @migrantechicago on instagram to hear updates on her case, or to even get involved, as there are campaigns running across the country right now.
please share this post. i will make a follow up post about the second detainee, a father named tito e who was detained at o'hare when coming back from the philippines, even though he is a green card holder.
donate & sign
(art by @lycheeluver on instagram)





1K notes
¡
View notes
Text

MR. HOTCHNER â aaron hotchner
In which being a nanny for the Hotchners doesnât only mean taking care of Jack, but also pleasing your boss
genre smut (18+) cw free use arrangement, nanny!reader, age gap (r is in 20s), post haley, mentions of jack, lowkey toxic relationship, soft to hard cock, thigh biting, some brat taming, praise, shower sex: oral (f receiving), p in v, use of showerhead, body painting wc 5k a/n i have been feeling #insecure about writing, but it's the same as when you haven't driven in a while and you're like "fuck i need to go on a ride otherwise i'll be too anxious to ever do it again", so here is me ignoring my inner demons yelling at me and posting anyway. oh and this is also my formal job application to be hotchâs free use nanny!!
You are a feminist, obviously. But beliefs tend to change in certain situations. To be precise, around certain people. The certain people in question being Aaron Hotchner.
Youâd been babysitting throughout your entire college careerâa job not only you, but all of your friends did. Itâs no oneâs plan to continue their college side job after getting a degree, but sometimes there isnât much of a choice. You didnât know what to do with your life after graduating, not sure how to navigate the struggles in your twenties while it seemed like everyone else had their shit together. A stable factor in your life was what you needed, and with capitalism taking over the world, the money was welcome too.
Nannying for the Hotchners was better than the families you babysat for in college. The term says it already; you were a nanny now, a live-in nanny at that. You had a home, a stable income, and took care of a shy but very sweet kid who grew more comfortable around you every day. If you closed your eyes, you could almost picture this being your life: the apartment you clean and cook warm meals in being yours, the mothers at Jackâs school seeing you as their equal and not just as âthe nanny ofâ... And if you squint hard enough, you could imagine Aaron being your partner, the one who brought in the money so you could be a stay-at-home wife.
Itâs not as delusional as it sounds, promise. Even though you and Aaron werenât actually dating, at this point you might as well be. Because, honestly, can there really be any love involved with a man who always prioritizes his job? You lived in his house, took care of his kid, and besides that, there was only one more thing needed for the label of having a relationship: sex. And sex there was. Lots of it.
Okay, again, it might not be like the sex youâd see in a traditional relationship, but you lived in the 21st century, for Christâs sake. It counted as something. At least to you.Â
It had been a couple of months since you started working for Mr. Hotchner when you had made the mutual decision to add an extra addition to your contract: a free use policy.
The decision didnât come out of nowhere. The second you had met up with Aaron over coffee to see if you were suitable for the job, there was a tension that neither of you could deny. An undeniable attraction that lingered in the air when your eyes first met across the cafĂŠ. A spark that coursed through both of your veins when he held out his hand and cupped your smaller one in his. The way your heart did a jump when he pulled out a chair for you and how his body had the same reaction at seeing your dress ride up when you sat down, revealing the slightest sliver of skin.Â
This arrangement was destined to work. Aaron was stressed out and on the verge of breaking down if he didnât get the relief of tension he so desperately needed after a long day of work. You needed to feel useful and worthy. Wanted by someone that in your eyes had it all.Â
One and one make two.
It sounded simple enough to you: being each otherâs sex buddy, satisfying each otherâs needs without overcomplicating it. But it wouldnât be your life if the execution of this plan went that smoothly.Â
During a late night on the couch, several glasses of wine in, you tried making a move on Aaron. Your legs were intertwined, bundled up beneath a warm blanket. His fingers had found the bare skin of your calves, drawing slow circles as he listened to you recalling your day with Jack. His lips would curl ever so slightly when you mentioned Jack getting a compliment from his teacher or when you laughed as you repeated the pun you had learned from his son.
Still, the tiredness in his eyes remained, just like the dark circles beneath them that never seemed to fade.
You just wanted to help, make him feel comforted in a way you knew would work. He didnât object when you scooted closer, turning your upper body to his to rest your head on his shoulder. He didnât react when you used the tip of your nose to lightly graze his neckâapathetic to the small shiver of his shoulders and the trail of goosebumps that followed with your movement. He did not even flinch at the first couple of kisses that you pressed to his skin.
It was only when your hot breath fanned over the shell of his ear that he had stopped you.Â
âWe need to set boundaries. This isnât professional.â
You swallowed down your sigh, chirping out a high-pitched sure. Deep down you couldâve predicted this. Aaron was the type of man disciplined enough to print out another copy of your contract, all the while ignoring the hard-on that was uncomfortably pressing against the zipper of his pants.Â
It was admirable how he took the time to explain this âfree useâ arrangement to you. Despite you working with kids, you werenât as patient. You were getting sex. That was all you needed to know. So you politely nodded along to his words as he scribbled down new information on the contract.Â
âI need you to sign here,â Aaron murmured, glancing up at your position on the couch.
With an inaudible huff, you stood and walked up to the wooden table he was bent over. Aaron took a step back, giving you the space to prop yourself in between the table and his frame to take a better look at the paper.
Your eyes flit over the rules:
No kissing
Minimal talking during the act (sounds of pleasure and code word allowed)
No talking about the act outside of the act
And most importantly, since he is the boss, he makes the calls on when youâll be having sex. No arguments.
The second you had scribbled down your signature on the new document, Aaron had pressed his body to yours. Large arms wrapped around your waist, his palms finding a home on your lower stomach. The erection you had spotted earlier wasnât gone, as it now poked against the soft curve of your ass.
A breathless sound escaped your mouth, quickly turning louder when Aaronâs short, dark hair brushed against your ear, placing open-mouthed, wet kisses on the place where your neck met your jaw.
You remembered how his hand slid into your jeans next, his fingers expertly slipping between the puffy folds of your pussy. His breathing heaved with every curl of his finger, and so did his movements as he rocked his hips into your back. He was visibly enjoying making you feel good. That much you could tell, but still you had thought that this was just a warm-up to get you ready for him. But when you cameâwith a loud cry he had to muffle with his other palmâhe had simply left the room.
It had been like this for the next couple of times: Aaron worshipping your body with his mouth or hands but never asking for anything in return. Maybe it was a boundary he wasnât ready to cross yet, or maybe watching you come undone was enough to satiate his needs and take away his stress. No matter his initial reasons, eventually he wasnât able to hold back anymore, your endeavors more often turning into you sucking him off while heâs on a tense phone call or having a quickie in the kitchen before the workday would start. Yes, specifically in the kitchen. Or any location other than the bedroom, for that matter. Because although not on the list, having sex in bed was an unspoken form of intimacy you agreed on not having.
But all sexual acts aside, at the end of the day you were a nanny. One who had a job to do.Â
With a long stretch of your arms and a loud groan, you climbed out of bed this morning. The weekendâtwo days filled with cheering Jack on during his soccer matches and baking chocolate chip cookiesâunfortunately has come to an end.Â
Your feet moved on autopilot, still in a dazed state from your sleep, until you found yourself in Aaronâs bedroom. It was only to enter the connected masterâs bathroom. It was probably against the ârulesâ, but no one could deny that his bathroom was superior to the guest one: it had a large shower cabin made out of glass, a window where the perfect amount of sunlight beamed through in the mornings, and there were discreet spotlights hidden in the ceiling that illuminated the room in a romantic setting during late night showers.
You never showered here when Aaron was at home. But he had been on a case this entire weekend, giving you the opportunity to fully enjoy the luxuries of his apartment. You did suspect that he was aware of your sneaky endeavors. One day he had come out of the shower smelling exactly like the vanilla scent of your shampooâthe shampoo you had forgotten to take back to your room with you.
Turning on the shower made you realize why waking up early was worth it. Warm drops of water fell down your skin, the fog that came free wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You had exactly one hour until Jack would wake up, one hour to abuse Mr. Hotchnerâs water bill and carry out your sacred full-body routine.
You were in the middle of rinsing the shampoo out of your hair when the creaking of the bathroom door sounded.Â
âFuck,â you curse under your breath, blindly reaching for a towel to dry your eyes from the prickling foam thatâs running down your face.Â
âJack, what did I tell you about knocking whenââ
Standing in front of you, barricaded only by the fogged shower doors, stood a man thatâconsidering someone couldnât grow twenty inches overnightâwas not Jack.Â
The dark, short-cut hair and the black blazer that was thrown over the figureâs form gave him away. It was none other than your boss standing in front of you.
âJackâs still asleep,â Aaron said matter of factly as he tugged the blazer off his arm before dropping it into the laundry basket.
A tinge of worry filled your chest, your mind running in a million different directions as it tried to come up with the most natural and fast explanation for you being here. âI didnât want to wake him. Your room is at the other side of the apartment, and you werenât home, soââ
He waves you off with a motion of his hand. âGood call, he needs his sleep.â
The fogged glass hides the deep breath of relief you're letting out at hearing his approval.Â
With the anxiety slipping away, you carefully reach out to wash the rest of your hair. You should turn around, face your back to him, and get the job done as fast as possible, but your boss had this essence that was too captivating to look away from. Squinting your eyes, you could make out the exhausted expression that lingered on Aaronâs face as he was busy untying his tie.Â
âRough weekend?â
He gave a short snort. âAs always.â
You nodded in understanding, although he couldnât see. Another silence followed, causing you to finally look away. It didnât take long for your curiosity to be piqued again, when the sound of a belt buckle unclasping and the soft thud of a shirt falling to the ground interrupted the steady stream of spilling water.Â
Turning your head, you could make out a vague tanned beige color where you previously saw the white of his dress shirt. The skin⌠the belt⌠Fuck, was this man getting naked?
âWhat are you doing?â You gulp when a strong hand reaches out for the showerâs doors.Â
âJoining you.â
Such a deadpan tone, like your boss joining you in your morning shower is the most normal thing to happen on earth. But this is what you wanted, wasnât it? To feel like it was a mundane thing. For it to feel like you had an actual, healthy relationship with Aaron, that you werenât essentially getting paid for your services.
âOkay,â you respond back with a newfound confidence.
You werenât sure whether Aaron had waited on your confirmation, but the second the approval left your mouth, the doors were being opened.Â
There was no need to hide your body; it wasnât anything he hadn't seen before. The way he looked, however, was different. Youâd only seen Aaron in a state where he was turned on, where heâd either been fantasizing about you all day at workâwalking around with a painful boner all dayâor where youâd been teasing him before you had greedily pulled his pants down. Now, however, he was still soft.
It wasnât a sight youâve often seen in your life, most men that youâd encountered feeling ashamed of the flaccid state; being a grower, or not thinking it looks sexy. So the fact that Aaron didnât think twice of walking in showed a sense of trust and intimacy that made your stomach flutter. Besides, he had no reason to worry about his looks, because he looked good in this state. His balls were tight and roundly shaped, his length looked a bit shorter when soft but hung thick and heavy over said balls, and what drove you even wilder was the way his full tip twitched when his eyes had landed on you.
âCan I help you with that?â He asked, nodding down to the pink loofah in your hand.
You answered by taking a step back, giving him the space to fully enter the shower and close the doors behind him. He reached out his hand, and you had to blink a couple of times to make sure that this was really happening before handing him over the sponge.
Aaron accepts it. His other arm extends, almost brushing against yours. You inhale a deep breath, only to find out he was reaching for the shower gel behind you. With the use of his thumb, he clicks open the cap and squeezes a generous amount of liquid onto the loofah.Â
Aaronâs eyes flick over your body, as if deciding where to start first. It was difficult for him to imagine that he had you right where he wanted. That you were standing right in the spot where he had fisted himself for months to the thought of you. The way you looked, with your curves bare on display as drops of water fell down the side of your body, was beyond any visualization his own mind couldâve ever come up with.Â
Your nipples harden under the weight of his long, dark gaze, and it seems like the decision is made for him. Gently, he places the sponge on your collarbone, then moves it down in a slow stroke, following the curve of your breast. Your eyes close shut when the rough material catches onto your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core.
With curious eyes he takes in your reaction, then repeats the movement, moving the sponge back up. Your breast sways along, causing Aaron to swallow back a groan. In circular motions he moves on to your other breast. You hum in pleasure as he repeatedly caresses the pebbled bud while covering you in little bubbles of soap.Â
âDonât fall asleep on me now,â he teases. âIs it that relaxing?â
The corners of your lips lift up, itâs not often that he breaks his own rules by talking to you. When you open your eyes, you notice a mischievous glimmer behind the stoic facade. Itâs not just that that you notice: the proximity is undeniable. In the few seconds your eyes were shut, Aaron had moved closer. So close that his forehead was nearly touching yours. So close that you could almost count the curly hairs on his chest that have deepened in color because of the streaming water.Â
It was a mistake to look down.
Just an inch away from your stomach, heaved Aaronâs rock hard cockâthatâs how fast the transformation can go. The large vein that you could dream at this point had made its appearance, and his bulbous head was shining in pre-cum. A thick drop hypnotizingly coating the slit.
âThatâs what you do to me,â Aaron breathes out, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.
Your heart was beating a million miles an hour. He could kiss you right now, his lips impossibly close to yours as he wet them with his tongue. Instead, his mouth moved: âUp.â
Before you were able to squint your eyebrows in confusion, Aaron had his arms wrapped around your thighs, giving you a firm tug up, allowing you to jump like heâd asked you.Â
In a smoothâway too smoothâmotion, you were thrown against the cold tiled wall, legs wrapped around his waist. Then he said it again. Up.Â
Like a toddler being lifted by their parents, Aaron had managed to climb you up so that your thighs were seated against each side of his face, legs dangling over his shoulders and the back of your calves planted firmly against his lower back.
âHow the fuckâŚâ you gasp out in belated shock.
âDonât waste your words asking questions,â he murmured, his hot breath fanning over your spread pussy. Not like youâd be able to in the state heâs got you in. âJust enjoy yourself.â
With his hands pinning you against the wall, he used the sole power of his neck to dive in. No time was wasted as his wet tongue split open the folds of your pussy, immediately latching onto your swollen pearlâcompletely magnetized by it.
Your thighs clenched around his head, a sound in between a moan and a gasp escaping you as you threw your head back.
âShit,â you hiss, the back of your head making contact with the cold surface.Â
Aaron groaned. You knew him well enough to know that it was a sound of disapproval, one of his dad-like âI told you to be carefulâ huffs. It didnât have its designated effect, though; his muffled sound vibrates through your body, causing a wave of tingles to ignite your skin, your clit twitching against his tongue.Â
When you looked down, he was rolling his eyes at you. âAre you serious?â his face spoke. A giggle left your chest, you couldnât take the stern attitude seriously.Â
Apparently, he did take it seriously. Aaron leaned back just enough to turn his head, and you missed the warmth of his mouth on you already. The light stubble that covered his jaw from being away on a case all weekend grazed along your inner thigh.Â
âMore,â you whimpered, lifting your hips from the wall and driving your cunt into his face.
His eyes flick to yours for a split second. It was easy to miss the moment, but something behind his eyes shifted, reaching the max of dealing with this daring disobedience of yours. Your breath gets caught before it happens: his teeth sink into your thigh.
You sputter in his grasp, legs locking tighter around his waist. He didnât bite hard enough to cut skin, but he was definitely leaving a mark. You were sure of that when, after the use of teeth, he wrapped his lips around the aching spot, sucking and not stopping despite your sharp nails digging into his back.
âAre you going to be good for me now?â
âYes! Yes, I promise!â
Wrong answer. Another bite.
This time you just nod, not speaking any excessive words.Â
His teeth are replaced by his lips. He leaves two featherlight kisses on the bruised spot and moves back to your needy hole.
âHavenât touched you in a minute, and youâre already dripping.â
Apparently the rule of not speaking doesnât apply to Aaron Hotchner today. Not that you minded.
He licked the sweetness off your pussy, getting back into rhythm. Aaronâs lips sealed around your labia, gently suckling until the only sounds leaving your mouth were passionate moans.Â
At this point it was impossible to decipher whether the wet, sloppy noises came from your pussy or from the water that dripped out of the shower's head, warming the sides of your bodies.Â
You dug your nails lightly into his shoulders, grounding yourself from the accumulating heat that was starting to form low in your stomach.
With every up and down of his chin, Aaronâs nose would bump against your clit, making it twitch in desperation.
âMmph,â you whine in response to his actions. Iâm close! Aaron, please! Is what you wish you could scream out to him right now. Wishing you could beg for a fast release as the obscene sounds grew louder around you. But you couldnât, not if you wanted to have any release at all. Forced to endure his sweet torture.
Aaron lifted his head, his mouth inches away from where you needed him most.Â
âAre you close?â
You obediently nod up and down, making sure he gets the memo.Â
âWill you cum if I touch her?âÂ
You vehemently nod, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. Please, touch my clit, Aaron.Â
His hot breath ghosted over the swollen bud. âHold on tight.â
You moved your fingers to wrap tightly in his locks, right on time as Aaron wraps your throbbing clit in between his lips. It was a combination of his satisfied moans and the slurping of his tongue that tipped you over the edge.
By the time Aaron had placed you back on the ground, you were wobbling on your legs, and your throat felt sore from the cries that had tumbled from your lips.Â
There wasnât much time to recover, Aaronâs hands finding your waist, warm palms burning your skin as he turned you around. Your chest heaved from your orgasm, and your heart rate only sped up when his fingers made contact with the back of your arms. He guided his hands up until your fingers locked.Â
The bathroom tiles werenât as cold as you expected them to be when you placed your palms against them, still heated by Aaronâs hands that were pressed against the same spot only a minute ago.
âArch your back for me, sweetheart,â he instructed.Â
The nickname had your legs close to giving out. You clawed against the wall as you arched your back, ass raised high in the air, your cunt making contact with his poking cock as it pulsed from the sight of you.Â
An arm cups around your frame, holding you steady against him. With the other, he brushes the skin of your curves, mapping out his favorite spots.
Aaronâs thick fingers grip around the cheek of your ass, spreading you open and watching you in a mix of lust and adoration. âFucking beautiful,â he murmured under his breath, as if heâd just witnessed the opening of an exotic flower.
You felt the weight of his solid chest against your back, dew drops falling from his skin and melting onto yours. Aaron bent slightly through his knees, enough to line himself up with your hole. Then he pushed in.
âThatâs it, you can take it,â he encouraged as his throbbing length entered you inch by inch. âAlmost there. Youâre doing so good, taking all of me.â
âFeels good,â you whisper softly, not able to help the words from spilling out.
âI know, honey. Going to make you feel even better.â
With that, he started pumping himself in and out of you, creating a mark in your cervix that he kissed with every thrust of his hips. It was hot. So fucking hot. The steam that has built up in the shower cabin, the warm press of Aaronâs body, the fullness of him inside of you, the heaving of his breath in your ear⌠Too hot.
Itâs like he heard you, because in the next moment he had you pushed up against the cool expanse of tile. A shiver ran through your body, a pleasant one, as your nipples peaked against it, stimulated by the continuous rubbing against the surface as Aaron moved your body up and down his cock.Â
A groan tore from his throat, the sound lightning through your body. âI missed this. Missed having you wrapped around me.â
The words were dirty, definitely, but it was the most affectionate thing heâs ever said to you. You could do this for the rest of your life: have him use you, be the reason he feels good, because there truly was nothing that made you feel more whole than to be praised by him.Â
You fluttered your pussy around him, enticing another deep groan from him.Â
âIâm getting close,â he hisses, and you nod. Give it to me, please.Â
Instead of speeding up the slapping of skin, he halts his movements, pulling a whiny no out of you.Â
With your back facing him, you donât catch on to how heâs taking the shower head from its bar. Not even noticing the change of there being no more water falling down your body.Â
What you do take in, is him hungrily cupping your mound. And you are definitely aware when he uses two of his fingers to spread your lips. You swear you can feel his grin against your neck when the shower head magically appears in his hand, turned to a setting where a strong current of water spurts out, which he places directly above your clit.
A high-pitched cry leaves your mouth, making you wiggle in his grasp. If he didnât have you pinned against his body, you wouldâve fallen to the ground, your legs feeling like complete jelly.
âHold yourself open for me.â
Regret followed later, when you realized that Aaron would pick up his pace again, all the while your clit was being overstimulated by the flow of water.
Your mouth was agape, moans and gasps and cries tumbling outâsometimes loud, sometimes utterly breathless. The last sound that left you was a scream of Aaronâs name as you came around his cock.Â
Your hand had left your pussy, reaching back to grip Aaronâs assâthe most accessible, and convenient place to holdâas your orgasm stuttered through you. You held him tightly, forcing a few more deep thrusts out of him before he pulled himself out.
âKnees. Now.â
The next moment passed in a blur. You fell to your knees, your legs squeaking against the cold, wet floor. You didnât have the time to decide where to settle your eye: on his thick length that he held tightly in his fist, on his soft stomach and chest that heaved in anticipation of his orgasm, or on his face that was barely visible with the way he had his head thrown back, lip caught in between his teeth.Â
His hips twitched, and his muscled thighs clenched as a white-hot fountain erupted on you. His release fell down your body, covering you from your breasts to your stomach to your legs. He even made a mess of himself, his hand covered in his essence, spread all over his cock by the jerking of his hand.
âJesus,â Aaron curses, using his clean hand to push his hair out of his face.Â
When his eyes fell back on you, he caught sight of you obediently sitting in front of him, using your thumb to flick a white stain off your breast before swirling your tongue around the digit.
He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his face. âYouâll be the death of me.â
You pick up the shower head that was thrown beside you on the ground, then place your hand around his thigh for leverage, wanting to clean him up.
Aaron sharply inhaled, body tensing when the stream hit his sensitive cock. âDonât do that!â
âIâm sorry!â You quickly apologize in a stutter, then burst out in small laughter.
He shakes his head, opening his palm. âHand it over to me.â
For a second youâre afraid heâs planning his revenge, but he turns the handle so that a gentle and even stream flows out of the head, then holds it above your body. Your personal waterfall.
With a hum, you wash yourself clean, almost sad to see the proof of his loving vanish from your body.Â
âCome here,â he whispers when youâre done and helps pull you up by your arm.
Surprisingly, he wraps a strong arm around you, the back of his fingers running across your cheek to put the wet strands of your hair back in place.Â
âI can bring Jack to school today.â
You raise your eyebrows. âAre you sure? You havenât slept all night. I donât mindââ
âMe neither,â he assures. âI know the work here is tiring too.â
It was. You knew nannying wasnât an easy job, but nothing had prepared you for the days and nights spent alone while Aaron was catching killers in different states. It wasnât easy being the main responsibility of a child in his most formative years, no matter how much gratification the work gives you.
âOkay,â you hum. âThank you.â
âI have some free time when I get back.â His eyes search for yours as he speaks the words, awaiting your reply to the invitation. His eyes soften when they catch your small smile.
âSounds good.â
He nods. âGood.â
#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotch x reader#hotch x reader#hotch smut#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#hotch x you#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds fic
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
20 Cigarettes (DBF!Joel Miller x reader)
summary: a chance run in with your dad's best friend while visiting home for a wedding leads to something you may never be able to take back.
tags/warning: +18, mdni. Joel is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s. age gap. f!reader. unprotected piv. creampie. SMUTT. angst. slow burn. jealous Joel. drinking, smoking, swearing.(if I've missed anything let me know and I'll amend). no outbreak, non canon, mention of TLOU characters but nothing is in line with the show/game aside from the fact Joel is the dilf to end all dilfs hehe
w/c: 10k
a/n: couldn't get the new Morgan Wallen song out of my head or Joel for that matter, so enjoy this plotty smutty fic.
Itâs nearly nine and The Rusty Antler is buzzing, content chatter battling with the speakers blasting a mix of pub classics and country hits. Itâs unsurprising for a Friday night. The dive has always been the perfect place for locals to drink away the stresses of the week and get geared up for the weekend, everyone from tradesmen straight off the job to moms gone wild and newly twenty-one-year-olds filling up the high tops and dance floor. Thereâs smoke filtering in from the front deck where patrons have slipped out for a cigarette, the smog creating a haze through the bar thatâs backlit but the neon beer signs hooked up on the walls. The antique Shiner sign hanging above your booth table casts a green hue over Dina, making her white Bride sash appear minty under the light.
Youâd flown into Austin barely twenty-four hours ago, ready to celebrate your high school best friendâs bachelorette party, along with a couple other childhood friends and two women from Dinaâs job at City Hall. You spent the bulk of the day at the local spa, getting pampered with everything from massages to manis and pedis, blowouts, the works. Dina didnât want anything fancy for her send-off into married life.
âJust wanna do what I love, with the people I love,â sheâd told you when preliminary plans were being discussed a few months back. And what Dina wants, Dina gets, which is how the six of you ended up at The Rusty Antler, the one bar that had always been your favourite since you were old enough to drink â and maybe for a few years beforehand, when youâd been able to distract the bouncer from the dodgy, fifty buck fake IDs Dina had bought from some stoner under the school bleachers. There was nothing like a night out with your girlfriends at a cosy dive with drinks and music â something youâd missed whenever you returned to Charlotte, where youâve lived the past three years since graduating on scholarship from Duke.
You readjust the pink Bridesmaid sash thatâs slung across your body, surveying the crowd.
âYou got your eye on anyone special?â Molly, one of your high school friends, asks, jostling your shoulder.
âNope,â you say, popping the p when you turn back to face the table. âThatâs not what tonightâs about. Iâm happy hanging with my girls and our bride-to-be.â
Dina flutters her eyelashes while she sips on her margarita. âYou know, you hooking up with someone tonight would be the best wedding present you could get me.â âYour weddingâs still not for another two weeks,â you remind her. âPlus, I donât think Iâm ready for that yet.â
Dina rolls her eyes. âBabe, I know what Jesse did was God-awful. I fucking hate him for doing that to you. But you know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.â A chorus of totally and youâre so right rouses from the rest of the group. You shake your head, heart clenching like someone has a fist around it at the mention of Jesse. Sure, itâd been a couple months since heâd confessed to sleeping with a colleague, since youâd kicked him out of your apartment, since youâd broken up, but it wasnât that easy to just move on. Itâd been a four-year relationship. Youâd seen each other through your Junior and Senior years at college and into navigating the real world together. You couldnât just turn that part of your life off.Â
âHey,â Dinaâs co-worker Reese says, interrupting whatever conversation had taken over from your love life. âDo any of you know that guy? He keeps looking over here.â You follow the manicured finger sheâs pointing across the room, to where a man sits at one of the bar stools, attention currently on the bartender whoâs pouring him a drink. Dark, wavy hair. Carhartt jacket fighting the wide breadth of his shoulders, green flannel poking out from underneath. Worn boots rest on the foot rail that runs along the length of the rickety bar, living up to its name.
Yeah, you know him.
âHold this for a minute.âÂ
You palm off your tequila soda to Molly before pushing out of the black vinyl booth, just as Dina asks, âWait, isnât that Joel Miller?â
Your dadâs best friend. He moved in across the street the summer you returned sixteen, after his divorce and with a bubbly, curly-haired eleven-year-old daughter in two. He and your father bonded quickly over single fatherhood and sports. They were always at one or the otherâs houses, cheering on game days, grilling up regular barbecues for the neighbours, drinking beers. Now that you were well into your twenties and living interstate, you couldnât visit home as much as youâd liked, but it gave you peace of mind knowing your dad had Joel to keep him company. Itâs been a couple years since youâve seen him, and God â whatâs that saying about aging and fine wine? He must be in his early forties now, at least, about a decade younger than your dad. Time has been nothing but kind to the contractor, whose skin glows with a tan from years of working on sites in the sun.Â
As you cross the bar towards him, you notice the silvery strands in his hair, almost metallic under the low lights, that sprout at his temples and weave their way through the waves heâs running a bearish hand over. The colours match the coarse scruff that hugs his jaw and chin, patchy in places, but not unkempt.
You slip between Joelâs barstool and the next one before saying, âYou spying on me, Miller?âÂ
He doesnât startle, just rolls his eyes up to meet yours like he was expecting you. âDefine spyinâ,â he responds flatly, but you donât miss the tilt at the corner of his mouth. âYou use a fake ID to get in âere tonight?â
You try to quell a grin by pushing your tongue to your cheek. It was a couple of weeks before your eighteenth birthday, your dad was out of town and you and Dina thought youâd try your luck at The Rusty Antler. The IDs had worked. You just hadnât factored in the possibility that your dadâs best buddy would be there, too. He hadnât ratted on you though, not in the time since, and for that you were grateful. âThat was one time.â
âMmhmm,â Joel tuts, unbelieving.
You glance at his glass. âDrinking alone?â
âJust finished up with a couple of guys from the crew. Might stay for one more,â he says as his eyes rake over you, gaze stalling at the sash draped over the swell of your breasts in a low-cut, blank tank. âSâwhoâs getting married?â
âDina,â you tell him, chin jutting in the direction of where your friend is using a penis-shaped straw as a microphone while she sings along to Mr Brightside. âFrom high school. Donât know if you remember her orââ
âI remember,â he cuts you off. âShe babysat Sarah with you a couplâa times.â Joel shakes his head, a stray curl falling onto his forehead. âGod, canât believe yâall are at the age where youâre getting married.â
âWell, some of us.â Jesse flashes across your mind.
âYour dad mentioned you and your fella broke up. Sorry to hear.â
You shrug. âIt is what it is. Wasnât meant to be.â
âIs anything?â Joel scoffs.
Your dimple dips into your cheek at his cynicism. âYouâre telling me.â A few beats pass as you watch Joel take a languid sip of the amber liquid in his glass before he clears his throat, focusing on the scratched timber countertop. You lean backwards, elbows resting on the bar, hoping to appear nonchalant despite the weird shift you immediately felt in his presence. âAnd what about you?â
He looks at you sidelong. âWhat about me?â
âYou seeing anyone?â Itâs none of your business, but youâre not ready to cut the conversation short just yet.
âDonât have time for that, darlinâ.â
Darlinâ. Your body tingles at the nickname.
âThatâs not what I heard.â
He quirks an eyebrow. âAnd what did ya hear?â âDad said youâve been out a few times with Tess from down the street.â
âDid he now?â Joel chuckles to himself. You feel the rumble of it in your own chest. âItâs nothing serious.â âNothing serious,â you regurgitate. Then, egged on by the alcohol in your system: âSo, youâre just fucking each other, then?â
He splutters over his glass, hissing your name with a reprimanding lilt.Â
âWhat?â you ask, voice laced with innocence.
âJust never heard you talk like that. Swearinâ and all.â
âThen you ainât spent enough time with me. Iâm all grown up now, you know.â
âI noticed,â he grits, voice so low you donât hear what he says over the whump of the music.
âWhatâs that?â
âNothinâ.â He glances over your shoulder, nodding in the direction of your group. âI think your friends are looking for you.â Heâs not wrong. Dina and the other girls are waving you over as Brooks and Dunnâs Neon Moon begins to filter out over the speakers.Â
You should want to join your friends. You should want to celebrate Dinaâs last official night out before she becomes a wife. But your feet are lead, keeping you stationary on the sticky barroom floor next to Joelâyour dadâs best friend, you have to remind yourself, though the title feels redundant with the way his molten eyes pour over you when he thinks youâre not paying attention. But you feel it, every lick of his gaze over your bare skin branding you under the neon bleating on the wall.
âOkay, well,â you straighten up, push your chest out proudly in a way that pulls Joelâs attention to your breasts again. âIt was nice to see you, Joel. Might see you around at my dadâs. Iâm down for a couple of weeks, âtil after the wedding.â
âYeah, sure,â Joel nods curtly. âHave fun. Donât get into too much trouble tonight.â
A light laugh bubbles from you. âOf course,â you tell him, resting a palm on his shoulder. âI always behave myself.â You push away from the bar without a second glance, but Joelâs focus is on you as you fight through the crowd that occupies the dance floor stretching between him and your friends. His eyes remain trained on the way your body swings with each step, your hips straining against your impossibly short leather skirt, the muscles in your legs rippling as your red Tecovas carry you across the room. Joel shifts on his stool. Drains his glass. Tries to ignore the fact that his faded Wranglers feel like theyâve tightened across his crotch, before flagging down the bartender for another drink. God knows he needs it.
Ten minutes later, a server appears and plants a tray of shots on the table. Dina immediately reaches for a glass of the clear liquid while one of the other girls tells the worker that you didnât order them.
The server shakes his head. âItâs on that guy at the bar. He says congratulations.â
Heâs gesturing to where Joel is perched on the peeling leather barstool. He smiles, only just, holding his neat glass of whiskey in the air with a cheers, his eyes locked on yours. You return a tight-lipped smile, holding his gaze as you throw the shot backwards, acidic heat trailing down your throat. Vodka. A shiver wracks your body before fire burns at the pit of your stomach, but whether itâs from the straight alcohol or the feeling of Joelâs eyes on you as you swallow it down is anyoneâs guess.Â
âThank you, Mr Miller!â Dina screeches over the music, to which he responds with a two-fingered wave. Then she turns to you, head ducked as she says, âGod, I havenât seen him in years. When did he get so hot?â
No shit, you think, then suck down the rest of your lukewarm tequila soda and push Joel Miller to the back of your mind.
***
The night quickly progresses from slamming shots at your table in the corner to dirty dance moves on the tacky floor in the middle of the dive. The bar must be at capacity, with the way that you can barely sway your hips without bumping into another patron and how the line for drinks is four people deep the whole way along the counter. Right now, Dina is at your back, an arm slung around your middle as you jump in tandem to Luke Bryanâs Country Girl (Shake It For Me). Your heart thumps to the beat of the song, cheeks aching from smiling and the joy of spending time with your best friends after so long. Youâre not thinking about much aside from making sure Dina has the night she deserves, your whole body feeling featherlight under the haze of alcohol, but thereâs a niggling at the back of your mind, and a heat that sears your skin like youâre being watched. A heat that has your eyes darting around the room, searching for dark eyes and a square-set jaw that belongs to a man you have no business worrying about, let alone thinking about.Â
Joel fucking Miller.Â
And there he is, on that same barstoolâthough his back is to the bar now so he has full sight of the roomâwatching you through the ever-changing gaps in the crowd.Â
Even from where heâs sitting, Joel notices the way your breathing hitches when you spot him, how sweat prickles just that little bit extra across your chest, his own breath catching when the light hits the bead that slips into the valley between your breasts. He knows he should look away. Hell, he shouldâve walked out of here the minute he saw you barrel into the bar with your girlfriends, bridesmaid sash slung across your pert, young bodyâfar more womanly than he remembered, or cared to notice, the previous times youâd visited home. But your dad is his best buddy. Joel owes it to him to keep an eye on his daughter, make sure she doesnât run into any trouble. At least, thatâs what heâs telling himself as your earlier declaration that you always behave toys on his conscience. Still, the angelic look that accompanied that confession is long gone as Joel watches you grind against your best friend in time to the music. A smirk tugs at your glossy, full lips, and the devious undertone of it sends a hot strike through his body, stirring his cock in its already half-hard state. Joel drops his free hand over himself, hoping to hide his arousal while the other fists his whiskey glass. With a quick glance around the room, he quickly realises heâs not the only one enjoying the show. Almost every man in the bar has his attention turned on you and Dina, watching keenly as the pair of you drop your bodies low, asses gyrating to the beat.Â
The song crossfades into another upbeat country hit that has the crowd hollering in approval and dividing itself into rows for line dancing. The corresponding combination begins facing away from Joel, and you lose yourself in the side steps and heel taps, clapping along to the rhythm when the routine calls for it. When the song hits its second chorus, you swing your body around to face the bar, restarting the combination, but your feet falter when you notice the loss of Joelâs attention. Now, itâs turned on a pair of men a couple of feet away from him, tension thick as the taller of the two puffs his chest. He says something to Joel thatâs completely intelligible to you, but whatever it is has Joel straightening up and his eyebrows drawing together until a divot forms between them. Heâs pissedâand your stomach knots. Itâs no secret that Joel Miller has a short fuse, and youâve heard the stories of him getting into bar fights back when he and your dad were young. A few when they were older, too. Itâs when Joel stands from his stool, knuckles white around his glass, that you break out of your line, maneuvering around people as they hit the moves to the Big & Rich tune. Your palm hits Joelâs chestâmore muscular than you were expecting for a man of his ageâjust as he begins to move towards the men he was talking to. Confusion crosses his dark features as he peers down at you, eyes flickering from your face to the hand on him.
He growls your name. âMove.âÂ
You shake your head, press the butt of your palm into him even harder. âJoel, donât. Theyâre not worth it.â
âAh, so the sexy little bridesmaid belongs to you, hey, old man?â a gruff voice pipes up from behind. The comment fills in the gaps that theyâve been talking about you, and it curls Joelâs lips into a snarl. He fights against you, one of his arms shooting over your shoulder.Â
âI told you to watch your fuckinâ mouth.â The gravelled edge to his voice shouldnât make your thighs press together, but it does. Your eyes drop from his face to his other hand, and you canât stop imagining how it would feel on you instead of clenched at his side. Keeping your palm on him, pressure hard with warning, you shift so you can face the other men.Â
âI think weâre done here.â
The bald one sluices his eyes down your body and it makes you want to shed your skin. Itâs slimy, disgustingânothing like the way it felt when Joel did the same thing. âDepends. Whatâs in it for me?â You narrow your gaze. "Not bleeding, if you're smart."
A lax smirk crops up on his pudgy face. âOh, sheâs got a mouth on her. I like that.â
You can feel Joel stiffen against your hand. Heâs practically vibrating, like a raging bull waiting to be let out of his pen. You stick a finger in the guyâs face, voice steady when you tell him to fuck off, aware that one of the barâs security guards is circling close by in case the situation gets out of hand. The bald manâs friend seems to have noticed him too, because he nudges his head in the guardâs direction and suggests they move along. And they do, thankfully, but not without another snide comment under the bald guyâs breath. Whatever.
Joelâs chest heaves, your hand rising and falling with his breath as his eyes stay stuck over your head. His heart thunders through his flannel and pulses against your palm. This is the closest the pair of you have ever been. Youâve never even hugged, in all the years youâve known each other. Not on birthdays. Not during goodbyes. A cedar scent imbued with cinnamon radiates from Joel, and for a brief second you're compelled to shove your face into his chest and inhale. To commit his smell to memory, maybe feel what it's like for him to wrap his corded arms around you and hold you to him.
Are you good?, you call yourself out, blinking yourself back to reality, the one where Joel is still rattling with anger.
âEarth to Joel.â You take your hand and click twice in front of his face. âYou good?â
Eventually, his dark eyes fall to yours, and he wills himself to not let them stray further down your body. Youâre all too close. âIâm fine. I had it handled.â
âDid you?â you laugh incredulously. âBecause from where Iâm standing, you looked about three-quarters of the way to giving that guy a knuckle sandwich.â
Joel raises a thick eyebrow with a chuckle. âThought you said you were all grown up. Grown ups donât call it a knuckle sandwich.â
âGrown ups also donât try to start bar fights.â
âTouchĂŠ,â Joel mumbles, and you give him a playful shove that dissipates the last of the tension in the air. You spin on a heel to face the shelves full of liquor, just as Joel offers you a drink.Â
âTequila soda, right?â
âSomeoneâs paying attention,â you tease with a wink that goes straight to Joelâs cock. Again. Not to mention what it does to him when you lean forward on the countertop, tits pushed up to the high heavens when your arms cross over your front.Â
Snap out of it, Miller, he scolds himself.Â
âBut no,â you continue, glancing down at his glass. âI want what youâre having.â
âYou want a whiskey?â
âWhat, you donât think I can handle it?â Your eyes sparkle with a challenge.Â
âGo on, then.â Joel tilts his glass towards you, inviting you to a sip of his drink. Goosebumps nip at your skin when your fingers graze when you take the whisky from him, a shock travelling from your fingertips to a heavy place at the pit of your stomach. You could blame the booze, but the way your body reacts to him feels far too real to be just a buzz.
His features are soft while you take a sip and let the whiskey coat your tongue. Itâs sharp, smoky. A tinge of sweetness as it sweeps to your throat and burns its way down. The warmth of the liquor seems to flood through your veins, heating your entire body from top to toe, but your face remains unreadable to Joel when you put the glass back on its cardboard coaster. Youâre unaffected, like the whiskey had no taste at all. He focuses on the golden sheen of liquid coating your full bottom lip, and he canât help but imagine what itâd be like to take it into his mouth, to tug it with his teeth. What noise youâd make when he didâwould you moan, whine? Hiss his name so heâd be forced to swallow it with a kiss? His breath catches againâfool, he thinksâwhen your tongue darts out and licks your lip clean, and somehow that tiny gesture is better than any intimate act heâs ever had any part of in his entire life.
âItâs good,â you confirm. Joel gives a barely-there smile and nods. âBest on the shelf.â
âIâll take your word for it.â
âSo, are youââ Having fun, was his question, but a wall of orange appears beside you in the form of a younger guy in a Longhorns tee and backwards cap.Â
âCan I buy you a drink?â he beams down at you, all perfectly straight white teeth and confidence. You return the smile but falter on the response, your eyes quickly flitting to Joel. Youâre not sure why. For permission? Maybe. But thereâs a dull tug in your chest, willing him to butt in, to tell the stranger that youâre busy and to get gone.
But Joel doesnât even move. Heâs not even looking at you, for Christâs sake, just rolls his glass around in his palm, checks his watch like heâs got somewhere to be.
Fuck it. Your smile stretches into an inviting grin in spite of the sullen mood thatâs taken over the man next to you. âIâm all good for a drink but Iâll take a dance!â you tell the stranger, who introduces himself as Drew when you start leading him back towards the dancefloor. Dina and Molly hoot and holler when they notice your new addition, your best friend patting you on the butt in encouragement as you begin swaying to a half-played out Miranda Lambert track. A couple more songs pass in a blur of casual dancing and half-shouted small talk with Drew, the kind that wonât matter tomorrow when youâre both long gone, a blip on each otherâs radar. Youâre laughing, swaying, letting his hands find polite places to landâbut the whole time, you feel it. Joel. Watching. Seething. And you donât know why, but it irks youâthat scowl he wears like itâs his birthright, the way his eyes darken as they track your every move from across the bar. So you spin around, lips curled into something just shy of a dare, and press closer to your stranger, winding an arm over your head to loop around his neck. You lean in, slow and deliberate, hips swaying in time with the music, letting yourself laugh too easily when he dips to whisper something in your ear. Joelâs jaw ticks. Blood thrums in his ears, a low roar, drowning out everything but the sight of you wrapped around someone who isnât himâsomeone who can touch you without consequence. His fingers curl tighter around his glass, the strain in his hand matching the heat rising in his chest.Â
Are you doing this on purpose? he wonders. Trying to torture him?
Then the kid that stole you away from Joel flips you around, hands bold on your hips, ducking his head like heâs about to claim your mouth right there on the dance floor.Â
Thatâs enough.Â
Joel shoves his stool back and it screeches against the timber flooring. He doesnât wait to see what happens nextâcanât. Heâs done, stalking through the crowd and pushing through the front door before he says or does something he canât take back.
He doesnât see you pull away. Doesnât hear you mutter not tonight to Drew as you edge out of his grip, turning back toward your friends, now dancing together in a tight, giggly circle. Thatâs when you see himâJoelâout of the corner of your eye, disappearing into the night, shoulders drawn tight. The tension in your chest eases, but in its place comes something heavier.
Not relief. Not really. Just the hollow ache of missing the burn of his attentionâlike standing in the cold after stepping out of the sun.
***
Time slips by in flashesâmore drinks, more music, the bass thudding through your chest as you jump and sway with your friends. Laughter comes easier, limbs looser, heat blooming beneath your skin from the mix of liquor and motion. Eventually, itâs too muchâthe press of bodies, the stifling air, a light dizziness creeping behind your eyes. You slip away from the noise, pushing through the door and out onto The Rusty Antlerâs redwood deck, chasing the cool air as your hot breath forms in a cloud in front of your face. You gather your hair at the nape of your neck and hold it away from your skin, letting the cool air pacify the sweat sticking there as you sidestep a drunk couple filtering out of the bar behind you. You watch them cross the parking lot, zigzagging, before they disappear past a beat-up Bronco. The low whine of a heavy weight on wood snaps your head to the right and your heart leaps when you see the shadowed figure looming at the other end of the building.Â
Heâs still here.
Your boots on the timber echo into the night as you cross the deck to where Joel stands by the railing, surveying the lot with a hand deep in the front pocket of his jeans. His other hand busies itself at his mouth, and itâs only when a plume of smoke stretches in front of him that you realise heâs got a cigarette at his lips.
Joel smokes?Â
"I thought you left," you say, falling into step beside him. The charred smell of burnt paper fills your nose.
"Thought you were busy," Joel bites back on an exhale. A flicker of irritation sparks under your skin at his words, but you brush it off with a shrug.Â
âNeeded some air. I didnât know you smoked.â
âDonât so much anymore. Just when I need to take the edge off. Usually tryân hide it from the kids, though.â
You grit your teeth. âDonât see any kids around here.â
Joel glances sideways at you, eyes darkening for a heartbeat, then quickly clearing as if chasing away a thought. âSâpose not. Youâre someoneâs kid, though.âÂ
âMy dadâs kid, you mean?â Youâve always been proud of being your fatherâs daughter. Wore it like a badge of honour. But right now, as you watch Joel swallow thickly, youâre not sure you want the title.
âHeâs a good man. A real good friend.â The words linger, heavy in the air. You can see the quiet conflict etched across his faceâthe tug between loyalty and this crackling, unsaid thing between you. Joel takes another drag of his cigarette, then nods toward the parking lot. âYou still got that old Jeep you used to peel around town in?â
The tension loosens slightly as you glance into the night. âOnly just. Iâm probably due for a new one. The thingâs a fucking relic.â
He lets out a humorless chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching. âLike me, huh?â
You almost smile back, but the moment splinters as loud laughter filters into the night, followed by your friends barrelling onto the deck in a flurry of heels and half-shouted inside jokes. Molly and Reese are struggling to hold up Dina, whoâs draped between them like a ragdoll, giggling uncontrollably.
âShe needs fries and a bedânow,â Tana, Dinaâs other colleague says.
âYou coming?â Molly wants to know, attention flicking to where Joel hangs a few feet back, your own gaze following suit before returning to your friend.
"I might hang out here a little longer,â you tell her. âIâll grab a ride with Joel.â
His heart stalls when he overhears this, logic grinding against the heat crawling up the back of his neck. He should say heâs leaving too, tell you not to wait, to go home with your friends. But the words donât come. They falter, thick on his tongue, swallowed down with the acrid burn of smoke.
A drunken laugh bubbles out of Dina, lazy eyes sweeping over you and Joel. "You know when I said you need to get over that asshole Jesse by getting under someone else?â she whisper-shouts. âI wasnât talking about your dad's DILF-y neighbour.â
"Dina!" you hiss, red creeping up your neck. You're not sure what embarrasses you moreâDina calling Joel a DILF right in front of him, or the fact that the thought of getting under him had crossed your mind a few too many times tonight for your sober selfâs liking.
âIâm just saying,â she slurs, hiking a thumb over her shoulder, âthat cute guy you were dancing with is still in there.â
âNot gonna happen,â you shut her down, before planting a kiss on her cheek. âCall me tomorrow, okay?â
âYeah, yeah,â she waves you off before addressing Joel. âI know who you are, Miller, so if my best friend turns up missing tomorrow, I'm telling the cops to come for you, handsome."
Joel barks out a genuine laugh at this, cropping his fingers in the air in salute. "You got it, Dina. See you around, girls."
Girls. It lands like a warning. You hate how it brands you, how it tries to shrink you back into something smaller, younger. But maybe itâs not for you at allâmaybe itâs for him. A last-ditch effort to redraw the line heâs toeing in his head.
You watch your friends climb into a taxi at the curb before joining Joel again.
âYou donât mind, do you?â Itâs too late to ask, but you do anyway.
âNot at all,â Joel lies on an inhale. He tilts his head back, blowing smoke to the ceiling of the verandah, watching until it fans out in a thin cloud against the tin roof.
âYou got another one of those?â You gesture to his cigarette. He looks from you to the burning nub, trying to piece together when the hell you picked up the habit. You expect him to pull another out of the packet thatâs sat beside his wallet on the railing. Instead, he doesnât hesitate to hold out the one heâs already got lit in the small space between you. The airâs already so charged, youâre surprised the burning cigarette doesnât set the night alight in an explosion of flames, taking you and Joel with it. You pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, conscious not to touch Joel again after the bolt of heat you felt when he handed over his whisky back inside. His eyes track your movements as you bring the cigarette to your mouth and take a long drag. As your pale pink lips fit around it naturally, your cheeks hollowing out just slightly. The thought of putting something else in its place causes Joel to shift from one booted foot to the other. You pull it back to reveal lipstick stained on the foot of the cigarette before handing it back to the man next to you.
âI didnât know you smoked.â Your question from earlier sounds different in Joelâs gruff drawl. And honestly, youâre not really one for the habit, but after a few drinks, you donât mind pretending for a while.
You donât tell Joel this, though, just throwing out: âIâm an adult now, remember? I do a lot of things I didnât used to.â
âGuy in the Longhorns tee included in that?â Joel throws back. He knows he shouldnât have said it but fuck, if it didnât make him see red, that kidâs hands on you, only chasing his own high. He wouldnât have looked after you. Not like Joel wants to. Not like he could⌠Like he shouldnât.
You donât answer right away. Not when you can see it written all over himâthe bite in his voice, the flash across his eyes. Heâs jealous. And trying like hell not to be. And God help you, but you like it. The electric charge, the crack in his armor. Itâs raw, unguarded, and only fair that you return the candor.
âIâm kind of over the whole dating thing at the moment,â you confess, taking another drag. âDonât know if Dad mentioned, but Jesse cheated on me. Some woman from work.â
Joelâs hand flexes at his side. âHe didnât tell me that. Sorry you had to go through that, darlinâ.â
âItâs⌠fine,â you settle on, handing the cigarette back to him.
ââS not fine. You donât deserve that. He doesnât deserve you. If he couldnât see how good he had it, how beautiful you areâŚâ Joel trails off, takes a puff. Meanwhile, your stomach flips at the compliment, and youâre pretty sure your cheeks are blazing as bright as the pink sash still adorning your body.
âAnyway, that whole situation put me off. Made me realise most guys my age are idiots. So, no, Iâm not jumping into bed with the guy in the Longhorns tee,â you tell him, a hint of jest in your voice.
Joel lets out a ragged laugh. âAll men are idiots. Doesnât matter how old.â
You glance at him, taking in his side profileâall harsh lines and facial hair youâd kill to feel brush against your skin. âI donât think youâre an idiot.â
Flicking ash over the railing, Joel turns his head, just slightly, so his eyes meet yours. âThen you donât know me very well.â
The conversation ends there, and you both fall into a comfortable silence, passing the cigarette back and forth between unhurried drags for several minutes, set to the sound of the wind in the woods at the side of the bar, and the patrons inside singing along to Closing Time, despite The Rusty Antler still being an hour or so off shutting down for the night. The fall breeze picks and it tugs at your bridesmaid sash, lifting it away from your skin like a restless ghost. A shiver ripples through you, the cool night air pulling at the hair on your bare arms. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Joel swipes his wallet and cigarette pack from the railing and shoves them into his back pocket before shrugging off his jacket, smoke pitched between his teeth.Â
âPut this on, âs cold,â he tells you, holding the Carhartt out for you.
âJoel, Iâm fine, reallyââ
âNot an option. Your dadâll kill me if I bring you home with pneumonia.â You bristle at the mention of your father again, but still slide into the jacket. The sleeves are far too long, the hem falling to your mid-thigh, but itâs warm and smells of Joel.
âWe better get goinâ. Donât wanna get caught in whatever stormâs headed our way,â he says around his cigarette, already leading you into the parking lot towards the old half-ton heâs driven for as long as youâve known him. He holds the door open for you, stamps the butt out in the gravel while you climb in. Then he reaches into the cab without thinking, giving the seatbelt across your chest a firm tug to make sure itâs latched. Itâs automatic, protective, and youâre hit with the memory of him doing the exact same thing to Sarah, back when her feet barely reached the floor mats. You watch Joelâs eyes drop, following the path of his own fingers as they flex slightly, knuckles grazing the soft curve of your breast through you top.
Then his eyes liftâslowlyâand land on yours. He freezes.Â
What the fuck is he doing?
Not just the seatbelt. This. You.
Something raw flickers across his faceâguilt, regret, wantâall tangled up in one tight breath. âShit,â he mutters, yanking his hand back like it burns. âSorry. Force of habit, I justââ He hesitates. âYou good? Comfortable?â
You nod, too quickly. âYeah. Iâm good,â you say, but your voice is thinner than you mean it to be. Joel lingers a second longer, Then, without a word, he pulls the door shut with a dull thunk.
***
Any hope of getting home before the storm hits fades fast. Barely five minutes down the road, the sky splits open with a white-hot flash of lightning. Then the rain comes, lashing against the windshield in heavy sheets that blur everything beyond the glass. The wipers on Joelâs truck beat furiously, but itâs like driving underwater. The tail lights ahead of you become smears of red in a pit of black. Joel leans forward with tight knuckles around the wheel, a newly lit cigarette between his lips. âGotta pull over. Canât see shit,â he grinds, flinging the wheel to the right until the truck rests in an embankment off the highway. It seems other drivers have had the same idea, because you see the glow of more tail lights a few car-lengths ahead. The radio crackles with John DenverâTake Me Home, Country Roads coming out all staticy no thanks to the signal being interfered with by the weather.Â
The windowâs cracked on Joelâs side, the rain tapping a quiet rhythm against it. He cranes his neck slightly to blow smoke out into the downpour, careful not to let it drift your way. A few rogue droplets slip in anyway, dotting the fabric of his flannelette sleeve. The cab smells like rain and smoke and him, and the clock on the dash blinks 12:06 AM in soft neon, casting faint shadows over the lines of his face. You unclick your seatbelt and shift in your seat, pitching one foot up on the edge of the bench, knee bent, jacket coming away from your body just enough to expose the smooth line of your thigh. Itâs nothingâcareless, comfortable but Joel sees it. Feels it. That small flash of skin tightens something low in his gut. The Carhartt swallows you whole, your tiny skirt and tank top disappearing underneath, making it look like thereâs nothing beneath it at all. Like youâre naked under there, curled up in his passenger seat like you belong.
He turns his head, molars pressed together when he forces his eyes back to the windshield as the cigarette burns down in his hand. The rainâs still coming down in blinding sheets, hammering the hood, masking the way his breath falters. He stares through it, jaw ticking, and starts prayingâquiet, fierceâthat the storm lets up. Just enough to get you home. Out of his truck. Out of his jacket. Before he does something real fucking stupid.
âSooo,â you start after a few minutes, when it becomes obvious that the storm isnât passing over any time soon. âTess, huh?â
Joel groans. âCan we talk about something else, please?â
You duck your head, trying to meet his gaze as you tease, "Why? The thought of her getting you all hot 'n bothered there, Miller?"
Thereâs a whine of leather under his single-handed grip on the wheel, then comes the glare.Â
Itâs lethal.
Thereâs nothing going on with him and Tess. Not really. A couple of lowkey dinners. They fooled around once, only barely, because he struggled to get it up. Itâd been a while, and in all honesty, the flingâif you could even call it thatâwas born out of boredom and a little coaxing from your father. Absolutely nothing to get all hot ân bothered about.
You pitch your hands up in mock surrender, sitting back against the seat. âNo Tess talk. Got it,â you agree before letting out a contemplative hum. You could ask him about Sarah, but you two keep in touch enough for you to know sheâs top of her class at UT, killing it on the first-string soccer team and has a boyfriend Joel isnât privy to just yet.Â
"Dad said you caught a nail a few months back," you settle on.
Joel shifts in his seat, taps ash out the cracked window. The truck rocks with the wind.
âIs there anything your old man donât tell you?â he asks.
You shrug. âNot really. If heâs not talkinâ to you, heâs talkinâ to me.â
He nods, slow. âYeah. He misses you. Talks about you all the damn time.â
Another gust rattles the truck. You press your knee tighter to your chest for warmth, cheek now resting against it while you egg Joel on. âSo, the nail?â
Joel huffs. âYou donât quit, huh?â You donât dignify it with a response.. âFreak accident. Not as bad as it sounds. Ricocheted off a piece of sheet metal and wedged itself between my bottom two ribs. Just missed my lung."
You sit upright, turning your whole body to face him. âJesus, Joel. That's what you call not as bad as it sounds?" No wonder your dad hadnât mentioned the full extent of it. The idea of a nail sticking out of flesh makes your stomach turn over the swell of alcohol still sitting in it.
"It's fine. Had worse injuries."
Your heart thumps once, thenâ
"Can I see?"
Joel turns the full weight of his attention on you now, flinging the last of his cigarette into the storm, startled. "What?"
"You've got a scar, right? I wanna see it."
He arches a thick brown. "Bit morbid, don't ya think?"
"Please?" you push, dragging the word out with a look thatâs all wide eyes and pouts.
Those fucking lips. How could he refuse?
Still, he makes a show of rolling his eyes while he reaches for the hem of his flannel, two fingers crooking under the fabric that he pulls up with the white t-shirt underneath. He moves slowlyâintentional. Like heâs giving you time to change your mind.
You donât.
Inch by inch, Joel reveals skin thatâs warm and tan, the flash of abs dusted with a smattering of hair. The muscles there aren't tight like a younger manâs, but sturdyâstrong with age and history and years of hard labor. When Joel stops, heâs hovering just above an uneven scar thatâs still tinged pink at its edges. While itâs obvious against his bronzed skin, itâs small, so you shift closer for a better view, too honed in on the injury to notice the space closing between you. Joel tenses at your proximity though, every muscle in his body drawing taut like a wire being stretched to its limits.
You reach for him, for the scar, without thinking, your fingers brushing the raised crescent of his skin. Itâs ragged and warm beneath your touchâtender in a way that feels too intimate for the cab of an old truck in a thunderstorm.Â
For a man and his best friendâs daughter.
Joel hisses at the contact, a sharp sound swiped straight from his chest like youâve just pressed a hot iron to his ribs. His torso spasms under your fingertips and you recoil, eyes immediately searching for reassurance that heâs okay,
âDoes that hurt?âÂ
He doesnât answer right away, jaw clenched so tight the muscle flicks. After a beat, his hand comes up to catch your wrist, to stop you. For purchase, maybe. Whatever it is, he just needs a second to collect himself, to steady the tremble running down his spine.
âNo,â Joel finally says, voice rough as gravel. âDoesnât hurt.â
But his face says otherwise. His gaze stays fixed straight ahead, unseeing. Joel knows if he looks at you, itâll undo him completely. Whole body still, brow furrowed. You can sense it, feel it, the way he breathes through his nose like heâs barely keeping control. His thumb lingers on the inside of your wrist, heat blooming there. It stretches all the way up your arm and burrows under your collarbone, into your skin, until every bit of blood in your body is pumping fiercely, almost like your pulse is chanting Joelâs name until it falls off your lips in a whisper.Â
His eyes are turned on you nowâdark, torn, hungry. You just stare back at him, held hostage by the way his gaze flicks from your eyes to your mouth and back again, his Adamâs apple jumping with a swallow. The storm still raging outside the truck is nothing compared to whatâs building in the silence between you. Still, you can hear your heartbeat louder than the rain, louder than the thoughts telling you this is a bad idea.
âJoel,â you say again, but itâs strangled. Desperate. Thereâs a secondâmaybe lessâwhere neither of you move, both of you frozen in the middle of it, on the edge of something irreversible. You know this is a bad idea. The kind of bad idea that doesnât just unravel nights, but lives.
You donât know who leans in first.Â
Maybe itâs both of you. Maybe it doesnât matter.Â
Joelâs mouth crashes into yours like itâs the last thing keeping him alive. Itâs messy, all teeth and tongues, need and no patience. Thereâs no slow build, no give, just him take, take, taking. His stubble scrapes against the skin of your top lip, his left hand knotted in the hair at the back of your neck like heâs trying to anchor himself to you. He tastes like the culmination of his vices: smokes and whiskey, together creating a flavour that clings to your tongue and makes you dizzy. And underneath it, something else that you canât pinpoint. Itâs warm and wild and so Joel. Not sweet. Definitely not soft, but itâs addictive in a way that makes you lean in harder, mouth open wider, like if you kiss him deep enough, you might finally figure out what it is. With another thrash of thunder, you push up from the seat, hiking a leg over Joelâs body so youâre straddling him behind the wheel, pressing your rapidly dampening core against his growing bulge. He grunts into your mouth at the movement, his tongue circling yours while your hands find the muscular planes of his jaw. You carry on like this for a few moments, grinding and groaning, ignoring the niggle at the back of your mind that tells you this is recklessâwrong, until Joel rears back, tearing his mouth from yours with a sharp inhale. He clamps his eyes shut, panting and shaking his head, like it might rattle loose the want clawing at his ribs.
âDarlinâ,â he grits, and the nickname sends a hot strike of lightning through your veins. âWe gotta stop. I canâtâWe canâtâYour daddyâll put me in the ground.â
The words come low, strainedâlike heâs dragging them out from somewhere deep where heâs still trying to do the right thing. And yet, his palm slides up your thigh like heâs already made peace with the consequences, thick fingers curling into the flesh of your ass.
âDonât care,â you barely get out, peppering light kisses over the swell of his cheeks, trying to draw him back into the moment.
âYou should. Itâll kill him,â he mutters, but doesnât move away. Doesnât let go. Doesnât stop you when you shed his Carhartt jacket and let it slip into the footwell. The air filtering in through the cracked window bites at your bare skin but you donât flinch, just press the weight of your body into Joelâs lap, your legs stretched wide across his on the bench seat. Joelâs eyes drop, and you feel the burden of his stare like a blowtorchâdragging over the curve of your collarbone, the swell of your chest, the stretch of thigh your skirt doesnât quite cover.
âChrist,â he whispers, then his mouth is back on you, on your neck this time, licking at the pulse beneath your ear. His wiry facial hair chafes the sensitive skin there, like steel wool, before he bites at the dip behind your earlobe. Hard, yanking a high pitched gasp from you. But before the pain sets in heâs sucking the sting away with a kiss, lapping up the salty but sweet residue left over from the sweat that had wicked your skin earlier in the night.
âDo that again,â you plead, rotating your hips to gain friction where you need it most. Joel chuckles at the request, lolling his head sideways to repeat the process at your other ear.
The storm outside intensifies, rain hammering the roof like a warning neither of you heed. Instead, one of Joelâs hands slides one of your tank straps off your shoulder, dropping a quick kiss there, while the other slides from the outside of your thigh to where your panties are sticking to your throbbing core. He presses a thumb down, feeling your warm arousal seep through the thin material. An involuntary whine slips out of you at the gesture, and another flare of lightning illuminates his face just enough for you to see the self-satisfied smirk yank at Joelâs lips.
âLook at you,â he says, his hot breath summoning goosebumps across your chest. âYouâre fucking soaked. How long you been like this?â
The motion of your hips is instinctive, need bleeding into your voice. âSince the bar,â you breathe. âWhen you tried to fight assholes.â
Joelâs jaw clenches, his fingers still slick and patient between your thighs, circling with maddening control. âThat why you went after that kid?â he grits. âNeeded to let off some steam, huh?â He leans in, nose brushing your jaw. âYou have no idea how bad I wanted to lay into him for puttinâ his fuckinâ hands on you.â
You buck your hips forward, silently begging for more. Itâs almost sickâtalking about another man while this one has you trembling with every swipe of his fingers over your clothed clitâbut it only heightens the need, makes the heat lick up your spine like wildfire.
âHe kiss you like I do?â he growls.
Your eyes snap to his, almost black in the dark truck, but still you feel the force of them working over every inch of your face.
âDidnât kiss him,â you pant. âDonât want him. Only want you.â
The confession frays Joelâs composure, and heâs yanking your panties to the side and sinking his thick middle finger inside youâfuck, darlinâ barely comprehensible around a growl when he feels you flutter hotly around him.Â
âYeah? Show me then,â he seethes, the pad of his finger already gently stroking that spongy wall deep in your core. âShow me how much you want me.â Your forehead drops to meet his, his free hand anchoring your hip. âThink you can come for me right here?â
Your cunt clamps down hard like your bodyâs answering him before your mouth can. Your breath stutters, thighs already beginning to tremble where they straddle his lap, the tension coiled so tight inside you that it feels like you could snap with just one more word, one more groan, one more look from him. âMore,â you plead, eyes half-lidded, fingers finding the mess of curls at the base of his skull. âJ-Joel, please.â
He complies by sliding a second finger into you slowly while his thumb meets your bare clit in unhurried circles.Â
âLike that, baby?â
You nod incessantly, chasing his rhythm with a circle of your hips. Your head rolls backwards, exposing the column of your throat to Joel, and he wastes no time in latching his mouth, licking hot stripes up the length of it while his fingers pick up speed. He can feel your pussy tightening, your breathing becoming ragged and movements frantic. His voice comes low against your throat, lips only just dusting your skin when he tells you, âThatâs it, darlinâ. Youâre right there. I can feel it. Keep goinâ.â
âIâm so close,â you whimper, the roll of your hips faltering when Joel tugs down on your earlobe with his teeth.
âCome on, let got for me,â he spurs you on. âShow me how good I make you feel. âS okay, baby, I got you.â
Your body winds tighter, tremblingâright on the edge, waiting for that last push. Then, Joel jams his fingers into you that tiny bit deeper, and you seize around him with a sharp cry. Pleasure snaps through you like a rubber band on releaseâsudden, sharp, and overwhelming. And just as you come undone in Joelâs lap, the sky splits open above you, thunder cracking louder than it has all night, lightning flashing so bright you can still see it, even with your eyes screwed shut. Itâs as if the storm had been waiting for you to fall apart, building with you, breaking with you.
Loud. Wild. Merciless.
The large hand that was previously as your hip now rests at the small of your back, Joel stroking over your tank top gently while you come down from your high, murmuring something that resembles good girl under his breath. When you finally blink your eyes open, Joelâs looking at you like heâs never seen anything quite like it. Thereâs a rawness in his expressionâlike heâs in awe, like youâve just undone something in him heâll never be able to put back together.
âYou look so fuckinâ pretty when you come,â he tells you reverently as he slips out of you. You immediately miss the pressure of him there, but their absence is quickly forgotten when his fingers, slick with your release, disappear into his mouth with a satisfied hum. âTaste fuckinâ pretty, too.â And thatâs when you feel it, him, thick and straining beneath you, his own arousal hot and urgent even through the thick denim of his jeans.
Joel shifts under you like a man possessed, one arm snaking around your waist, the other bracing the back of your head with a tenderness that steals what little air is in your lungs. One swift motion, and he lifts you off his lap and lays you down across the the worn bench seat, your back meeting the cool leather. His burly body follows, covering yours, and you hear the metallic clank of his belt buckle under the rain still pelting hard against the roof. The air inside the truck is thick nowâhumid with your breath, his breath, the leftover heat of your oragsm. Even with the crack in the driver side window, the glass is completely fogged, streaked with condensation. Thereâs a beat of hesitation in his eyes as he hovers above you, while your cunt still pulses with need despite your release just moments earlier.
âI need to feel you,â he rasps, followed by your name, voice tattered and needy. âNeed to be inside you, darlinâ, butâfuck, you gotta tell me. You want this?â
Your hands find his face again so your eyes are locked, and you nodâonce, certainâand thatâs all it takes. His hand drops between your bodies. You feel the rough scrape of denim, the tension of his zipper giving way, and then the low sound he makes when he finally frees himself. Another hand finds your underwear, dragging them down just enough to bare you to him, just enough for him to slot himself between your upper thighs, skin to skin, his body shaking with restraint as he lines himself up at your entry.
He goes slow, nudging his swollen head inside you, the stretch of him already greater compared to his thick fingers. He must feel you stiffen at the sensation, because he stalls, eyes darting from where youâre connected to your face, searching for any sign you want him to stop.
âKeep going, Joel,â you breathâbegâghosting your thumb over his bottom lip. Iâm okay, the tiny gesture tells him, and Joel continues to press into you, excruciatingly slow, pleasure chasing away the sting of his girth as he edges closer to where you need him most. He bottoms out with a depraved groan that vibrates through your chest, his hips flush against yours, the full weight of him settling deep inside. Your moan tangles with his in another hungry, messy kiss, mouths moving like youâre starved for each otherâlike this might be the only time you get. Joel stays there for a beat, buried to the hilt, breathing heavy against your lips before dragging his mouth lower, tracing your jaw, your throat, until his lips find your chest. One hand fumbles with your top, dragging it down just enough to free your breast, his tongue immediately swirling hot and wet around your nipple. The sensation makes you arch beneath him, breath catching as he sucks greedily, the other hand braced under your back like heâs trying to memorise the way your body bends for him.
âJoel,â you whine with your fingers knotted at the crown of his head. Another quick lick of your nipple and heâs peering up at you hungrily.
âWhat is it, baby?â
You rock your hips as much as you can under his weight. âNeed you to move,â you say. Then, more definitely: âNeed you to fuck me.â
âJesus, woman.â The words are aggressive, just like the way his hips snap back before driving into you. Hard. Deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. His fingers press bruises into your thigh as he anchors it high around his waist, and itâs then that Joel becomes a savageâhis thrusts relentless and rocking the whole damn truck with every grind of his hips.
âGod, you feel perfect. Like you were made âfâme,â he grits. âNot gonna last long with your pretty pussy squeezinâ me like that.â Your breathy whimpers, your pleas of yes, right there, Joel, fuck puncutate each collision of your bodies, the base of his cock nudging your clit just so when he bottoms out. That familiar pressure is already building again, your second climax clawing its way from the pit of your stomach, and Joelâs lips slide into a lax smile just before your eyes sink shut.
âYeah, darlinâ, youâre gonna come for me again.â Itâs not a questionâJoel just knows, and pants at your ear, egging you on. âThatâs it, come on.â
You seize beneath him and flutter tightly around his cock like a vise as your orgasm washes over you with a shameleslly load moan. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck with a grunt, his hips faltering as he fucks you through the tightness around him.
âFuck, thatâs itâjust like that, baby,â he rasps against your skin, breath hot and uneven. âStay with me. Not far behind you.â His mouth finds yours again, hungry and open, as he pistons into you faster now, chasing his own edge. âWanna fill you up. Will yâlet me come in you?â Your answer comes in a breathless moan, a frantic nod against his mouth. âYesâinside. Please.â
Itâs all the coaxing Joel needs, burying himself to to the hilt with a strangled groan, movement stuttering as thick heat floods you. You hold him there with your legs, Joel twitching as he empties every last drop of himself inside you. The pair of you freeze there for a beat, panting into each otherâs shoulders before he finally pulls out of you with a low, satisfied grunt. Youâre sensitive now after your two shell-shock orgasms, the air cool against the mess heâs left behind. Your skirtâs bunched high around your waist, panties stretched to their limits just above your knees until Joel tugs them back into place. The rough drag of denim on your thighs makes you flinch as he redresses, his belt clinking softly in the quiet aftermath. Itâs only when you peel yourself up from the bench do you realise that the storm has rolled on. Rain no longer assaults the truck. The windows are fogged but quiet now, aside from the whoosh of passing cars as headlights begin to reappear on the highway in the dead of night. Itâs nearly one in the morning, according to the neon clock, and you follow suit after watching Joel click his seatbelt back over his body. He doesnât look at you, just fishes a fresh cigarette from the crumpled packet abandoned on the dash. It ignites with a flick of a lighter, and he inhales deeply, the glow burning amber across his face.
The truck chugs to life beneath you, engine grumbling as smoke curls into the stale cab air.
âLetâs get you home,â he mutters quickly, like if he says it fast enough, he might outrun the guilt. And then he pulls back onto the highwayâinto the night, into whatever comes next.
***
pt. II here
a/n: pleeeeease let me know what you think!! like, share, reblog the works. i have a bit of an idea for a follow up fic, so if that's something you'd like to read, make sure you let me know that you want part 2 and whether you want to be added to the tag list for this fic!
#joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#dbf joel miller#joel miller#joel tlou#joel the last of us#dbf!joel miller x reader#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#dads best friend joel miller smut#dad's best friend joel#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#dbf joel smut#joel miller imagine
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Mrs. Victoria buys a brothel
a novel by TalhĂ Briones
1865, United Statesâ It took thirty years and a dislocated arm for Victoria to leave her abusive husband. Heartbroken, she has to choose her own life over the hope of ever seeing her son again. She escapes the manor in the dead of night, only bringing with her a white wedding dress. She ends up in Swainsburg, a minuscule town in Wyoming, where sheâs adopted by the local prostitutes. To save them from expulsion, she buys the building and learns that in these parts, entertainment is worth more than gold. Itâs almost easy, even fun, to organize piano recitals and cancan shows for the cowboys of the area, but being a Madam comes with responsibilities and dangers she isnât ready to face. Her husband, after all, has contacts everywhere. Itâs hard to navigate the delicate tensions between respectable ladies and whores, between white society and the âothers.â Her new friends are women who carved their place in this merciless life; people who, like her, ended up in Swainsburg when they got tired of running. Victoria doesnât notice, canât even imagine the possibility; but she falls in love. The townfolk say the widow DĂaz is strange, but Natane is actually incredibly awkward, kind, and very lonely. Victoria has no name for this burning friendship, but the feeling grows and demands to be acknowledged. This is a story about women who age, gossip, drink, love, and help you hide the body of your dead husband.
After many years of work, the book is finally available for pre-order!
On the kickstarter, you will find art and more stories set in the same universe. You can help by sharing this post and telling your friends!
LINK TO THE KICKSTARTER
EDIT: We reached 10K in two days?!? I can't believe it. All the stretch goals are now unlocked.
Note: Regarding the stretch goals, please pay attention to which tiers they apply to. Only Tiers 5 and 6 will get the stickers, postcards, and hardcover version.
If you really believe in this project and want to help, you can share this post and reach people who would be interested!
UPDATE: The kickstarter is now over.

357 backers, 18,928$CA.
backers will receive an email with more information soon.
To everyone who backed this, thank you!! I can't wait to share my story with you!!!
--
If you missed the kickstarter, I will soon share other ways to pre-order the novel.
The official launch date is May 20, 2025.
#mrs victoria buys a brothel#please reblog and help me reach a wider audience who would love this story!#thank you so much to everyone!!
874 notes
¡
View notes
Text

michael robinavitch
masterlist ⢠the pitt ⢠07/20/25
Ëâ§âş シ Ë Âˇ ŕ¨ŕ§ recs II gif credit - @/emziess
here are some michael robinavitch stories iâve read, loved, and reblogged. all the admiration for the writers who share their talent so generously. please be sure to read the warnings on each fic. and if you enjoy them, let the author know by a comment, reblog, or both! âĄ

𣲠angel kisses I @science-hoes
𣲠a ray of fucking sunshine I @/science-hoes
𣲠taste I @/science-hoes
Robby is fighting nicotine withdrawals, but the reader has something sweeter to curb the cravings.
𣲠gorgeous I @/science-hoes
Robby loses in fantasy football and pays up. Somehow, his loss is making your life a lot more difficult.
𣲠special treatment I @ovaryacted
𣲠an itch you canât scratch pt2 I @theonewiththefanfics
After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...
𣲠married name I @tedmustache
Robbie decides to casually reveal their marriage in the most dramatic way possible.
𣲠doctors orders I @/tedmustache
Between long shifts, late-night triage, and the chaos of The Pitt, something quiet has been building between Dr. Robbie and Y/N. When one rough day pushes things to a breaking point, unspoken feelings come dangerously close to the surface and maybe neither of them is ready to pretend anymore.
𣲠triage I @/tedmustache
Amid the nonstop pressure of a Pitt emergency room, one nurse navigates long nights, relentless crises, and two doctors who are harder to read than any medical chart.
𣲠residuals pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 I @eureka-its-zico
You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. Youâve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You canât miss what you donât see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.
𣲠devastation (daughter!reader) I @nineteenninety-six
The tragedgy at Pittfest brings brings a victim that devastates Dr Robby
𣲠late night visits I @stellamarielu
somehow your neighbor is always finding himself at your front door hoping to find relief through casual hookups, but you both canât deny your feelings any longer
𣲠impatient intentions I @/stellamarielu
robbyâs innocent obsession with his neighbor takes a turn after a dinner invite that leads him straight into your kitchen and renders him a slave to your touch
𣲠work crush I @xximperioxx
𣲠heartbeat pt2 pt3 I @asxgard
You get called in to assist with the mass casualty event on your day off and youâre grateful to be there when your husband finally breaks.
𣲠companionship pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10 I @/asxgard
Heâs not sure how he got here, perhaps itâs the aching loneliness or the overwhelming stress. Youâre there because it seems like easy money and you have a pushy friend. All in all, itâs a good deal â he gets the companionship heâs after, no strings, and you get your utility bills paid on time. Itâs pretty simple, easy, until your arrangement bleeds into something a bit moreâŚcomplicated.
𣲠a lesson in vulnerability pt2 I @/asxgard
A pregnancy scare forces you both to lay your cards on the table.
𣲠be I @/asxgard
You had no intentions of falling for the sad-eyed attending on one of your rotations. And yet, here you are.
𣲠feels like trouble I @thepencilnerd
You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is cluelessâexcept the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television.
𣲠cuddles in the on call room I @/thepencilnerd
𣲠drunk confessions I @/thepencilnerd
Youâre out drinking with your colleagues. Robbyâs not thereâuntil he is. What happens when you see each other again in the ER, and everything you said (or left unsaid) comes rushing back?
𣲠chronic illness!reader I @/thepencilnerd
𣲠the story never ends I @/thepencilnerd
From coffee and first glances to slow unraveling and quiet returnâthis is a story of love across changing seasons, of whatâs lost, and what still lingers; healing is neither linear nor pretty, but itâs realâand sometimes, that's enough.
𣲠dayshift nurse!reader I @/thepencilnerd
𣲠sweet nothings I @thebestandworstdayofjune
you own a bakery down the street from PTMH, and Dr. Robby is one of your favorite customers. The night of The Pitt Fest shooting, you stress bake and deliver the results to the park near the hospital when you have a gut feeling everyone could use something to lift their spirits
𣲠stay with me I @mercvry-glow
𣲠a girls guide to shopping I @/mercvry-glow
𣲠i start my mornings with folgers and hot, steamy sex I @spockiguess
Dr. Robby doesn't get to share many mornings with you, so when the day comes that he's finally able to spend just a little bit more time in your embrace, he doesn't pass on the opportunity to make it memorable.
𣲠idiots doctors in love I @oceantornadoo
𣲠rose scented scrubs I @/oceantornadoo
𣲠i look in people's windows I @augustwinesworld
𣲠message received I @abbotjack
𣲠and you came back to me I @/abbotjack
𣲠stitched together I @hauntedhowlett-writes
after accidentally cutting your hand, you seek out your neighbor for help. a favor becomes a friendship and a friendship becomes something more.
𣲠lead the way I @traumaone
after over a year of pining over Robby, reader gets into a relationship to try and get over him, and gets cheated on. Robby (after putting up with a snippy reader) comes to the rescue
𣲠keys I @/traumaone
Robby misses you, but lucky for him, you just so happened to leave your keys on his desk after your shift last night (or, you come by to pick up your keys and Robby feels you up in the ambulance bay)
𣲠immature I @/traumaone
Robby loses his temper on you, and you're not quick to forgive, then tragedy strikes, and Robby's not answering his phone
𣲠mature I @/traumaone
𣲠the right moment is you I @cherriready
robby didnât mean to propose today. not during a long shift, not without a plan, and definitely not in front of the ER. but when he saw herâcradling a toddler, keeping on a concussed mom, keeping calm in the chaosâhe saw the rest of his life. no speeches. no perfect moment. just her. always her.
𣲠drabble I @arrenjo
𣲠touch I @a-soft-aside
You land yourself in the ER and Robby is the first face you see.
𣲠positions I @/a-soft-aside
Your recent work trip is the longest time you and Robby have been apart since you two started dating. Heâs thought of you non-stop and all the things heâs been wanting to do to you. He gives you a welcome home to remember.
𣲠dark is the way, light is a place I @isaysexualthingsaboutrobinavitch
As a board-certified clinical psychologist working at PTMC, you were expecting to see patients of the hospital. But by some twist of fate, you end up seeing several ER doctors for individual therapy.
𣲠Ho'oponopono I @ay0nha
where you make a mistake that leads to a probationary period full of observation hours, required counseling, and loathing for Dr. Robby, the very person who put you in this position.
𣲠young gf!reader I @astreamofcolors
𣲠safekeeping I @dexxtrosee
A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.
𣲠drabble I @loveyhoneydovey
𣲠in good hands I @blackleatherjacketz
You draw the short straw and have to work part of your shift in the ER, but Dr. Robby makes it a little more tolerable.
𣲠night vision pt2 pt3 pt4 I @artibeus-lituratus
While dr. Frank Langdon is away while seeking treatment for his drug addiction, you're plucked from the loving arms of the night shift in order to replace him inside the crushing jaws of the day shift in the Pitt. Being a nocturnal creature with a closed-off personality, it's hard to adjust at first, especially when you're no longer working alongside your mentor (and father figure of sorts), dr. Jack Abbot. However, you slowly start to grow on the day shift's attending doctor, and it's up to Robby if he'll stay away from you to protect his heart, or if he'll give in to something that's bigger than a workplace crush.
𣲠robbyâs biological clock I @marvelslut16
Robby opens up to the reader that he realizes that he wants a child after finding out that he almost had one.
𣲠gyltig I @strangunddurm
Michael has a secret that he was too guilty to tell anybody about. Especially Heather Collins.
𣲠loathing you, my whole life long pt2 pt3 pt4 I @kisses4themissus
𣲠sheâs here pt2 I @butyoudidthis4what
The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed and doesn't react well.
#michael robinavitch#michael robinavitch x reader#michael robinavitch x you#dr robby#robby robinavitch#doctor robby#dr robby x reader#doctor robby x reader#robby robinavitch x reader#dr robby x you#dr robby x y/n#the pitt#the pitt fic recs#michael robinavitch fic recs#michael robinavitch smut#michael robinavitch angst#michael robinavitch fluff
913 notes
¡
View notes
Text
BABY MOMMA.Â
PAIRINGS: AMAB!DOM!VI X SUB!FEM!READER
PREFACE: you're thirty, she's twenty, but the moment you say âcome to bed,â all vi wants is to knock you up and never leave.
WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni)Â
TAGS: age gap (v: 20 ;; r: 30) ;; obssesed!vi ;; perv!vi ;; baby fever-mode!vi ;; babysitter!reader ;; milf!reader ;; domestic tension ;; mommy kink ;; laundry sniffing ;; fever dream ;; dry humping ;; filthy thoughts ;; breaking point smut ;; breeding kink ;; oral (r. receiving)
navigation.Â
vi wasnât even supposed to be home that morning.
she was supposed to be at the gym or⌠anywhere but standing shirtless at the window, mouth open, watching you haul boxes out of a small delivery truck like you werenât the finest woman sheâd ever seen in her damn life.
tight jeans. hair pinned up. a tattoo curling behind your ear. sunglasses you slid off with one hand as you called out something sweet to the driver, and holy shitâyou smiled. at him. at the world. and her body locked up like sheâd just been sniped.
you were older. she could tell by the way you carried yourselfâlike you knew better, like you didnât care who was looking. but vi? vi cared. she cared so much, she was gripping the windowsill until her knuckles went white, watching you pop open a water bottle and tilt your head back to drink.
and just like that, she was hard.
not in a gross way. in a oh fuck i think i just saw god kind of way.
she scrambled. didnât even thinkâjust grabbed a hoodie (no shirt underneath) and jogged out the door like a complete idiot. nearly tripped over her own feet when she saw you bend over to adjust something heavy near the door. maâam please i am twenty i will die.
you stood up, looked straight at her.
âoh hey, neighbor,â you smiled, and she forgot how to speak.
âiâhi. i mean, yeah. me. neighbor. iâm⌠i live there,â she pointed to her own house like a moron, hoodie still half unzipped, chest glistening slightly from sweat and thirst.
your eyes flicked down once. she saw. she definitely saw.
âthanks for the info,â you laughed, and her soul left her body. âiâm [your name]. moved in just now, as you can see.â
âi see,â vi muttered, and what the fuck kind of response was that?!
you tilted your head, amused, and extended your hand. âvi, right? your landlord mentioned you when i signed the lease. said you were helpful.â
she took your hand way too fast, way too eagerly. ây-yeah. i help.â
âgreat,â you nodded, letting go slowly. âthen maybe you can help me with the crib inside.â
she blinked. âthe what.â
you laughed. âi babysit. thereâs a four-month-old whoâs practically glued to me all week. sheâs sweet. iâm just renting this place so she has somewhere quieter to nap. her parents live a few blocks over.â
viâs brain short-circuited. crib. baby. you. you holding a baby. you cradling. you humming lullabies. you as a momâ
she choked.
you frowned. âyou okay?â
âyeah! yeah. totally. iâuh. i like babies.â
oh my god shut the fuck up vi shut the fuck upâ
you chuckled. âgood to know. come help me build the crib, vi-who-likes-babies.â
she followed you inside, hoodie clinging to her back, heartbeat out of control, hard as fuck, stammering at every single thing you did.
because your perfume was expensive, your back arched when you leaned over the instructions, and you sat cross-legged on the floor like it was nothingâbut everythingâto her.
and when you casually said, âyouâre cute when youâre shy,â
âŚshe almost came on the spot.
viâs not okay.
she was barely hanging on when you wore that little tank top and asked her to hold a wrench last week. but this?
this is full-on war.
you open the door holding a baby on your hipâsome chubby-cheeked, sleepy-eyed little thing in a duck onesieâwhile wearing that fucking sundress. the pale yellow one. thin straps, low neckline, hugs your waist like itâs being paid to ruin her life.
vi forgets what oxygen is.
âoh, hey, sweetheart,â you smile at the baby first, bouncing her softly. then you glance up at vi. âyou ready to help me carry the stroller down?â
vi opens her mouth.
nothing comes out.
because the cleavage. and the bare shoulders. and the baby in your arms like itâs natural.
âi-iâyeah. stroller. of course.â sheâs already sweating.
you giggle. âyou always this red, or am i special?â
âiâm fine,â vi lies through her teeth.
you walk ahead of her, barefoot in your little house, the curve of your ass visible through the soft cotton of your dress, and she thinks: iâm going to jail. i am going to jail and i will smile in my mugshot.
the strollerâs heavier than expected, but she handles it fine. sheâs jacked. thatâs the one thing sheâs got going for her.
wellâtwo things, if you count how fucking hard she is under her sweatpants.
you hum beside her, rocking the baby with one arm, hair tied up in a lazy bun. youâve got soft lines around your eyes and a warmth she doesnât know how to be normal around. and viâs thereâshoulders tense, jaw locked, trying not to pop a visible boner every time you coo, âsweet girl,â to the baby.
then you make it worse.
you reach over and gently wipe sweat from her brow. âitâs hot today, huh? thanks for the help, sweetheart.â
sweetheart.
vi twitches. physically twitches.
you raise an eyebrow. âeverything okay?â
âyes,â she says, hoarse. âjustâuh. youâre really good with her.â
âiâve always loved kids,â you say, smiling down at the baby.
and vi mutters before she can stop herself: âbet youâd be a hot mom.â
you blink.
and thenâyou smirk.
âoh? that a fantasy of yours, baby girl?â
vi panics. âiâi didnâtâshit, sorry, that wasââ
youâre laughing. genuinely laughing. ârelax. youâre cute.â
viâs frozen. she canât believe it. she whimpered.
and then you kiss the babyâs cheek and say, "come back inside. iâve got lemonade."
vi follows you like a damn dog.
sheâs got baby fever, mommy issues, and a certified obsession with the thirty-year-old milf next door.
god help her.
viâs been helping you move furniture all afternoon.
sweat trickling down her back. tank top clinging to her abs. hair pulled back. sheâs been trying to be chillâtrying so hard not to stare at how your shorts ride up when you crouch or how your bra peeks through that thin-ass topâbut her self-control is in the fucking icu.
especially because you keep leaning over her shoulder, brushing close, saying things like:
âright thereâmm, yeah, just like that.â
youâre not doing it on purpose, right?
right?
right??
sheâs holding up a bookshelf now while you tighten the bolts, crouched in front of her, the top of your head level with her chest. she can smell your perfume and itâs giving her a stroke. sheâs already lightheaded when you stand up, give her a once-over, and smile that slow, warm smile that makes her want to bark.
âall done,â you say. âthanks for being such a good girl, vi.â
and she moans.
like, not subtle. a real, shaky-breath, ânnnh,â straight from the chest.
you blink. â...vi?â
she freezes.
she wants to die.
her ears go red instantly. her fingers twitch. her soul tries to leave her body but gets caught on her raging boner.
âiâsorryâi didnâtââ she stammers, stepping back too fast and bumping into the wall. âyou saidâyou called meââ
you smirk. that smirk. the one that says you definitely noticed.
âgood girl?â you say sweetly.
she whimpers again.
you take a step closer. she backs up like prey.
âoh?â you tease, voice just above a whisper now. âthat do something to you, baby?â
âi-i donâtâfuckâcan we talk about literally anything elseââ sheâs not looking at you, hands fisting the hem of her shirt like sheâs holding herself back from combusting.
but you just tilt your head, amused.
then? you lean in, real close, and murmur, âwhat if i say it again?â
viâs eyes flutter. she stops breathing.
âgood girl.â
her knees buckle. she physically has to catch herself on the side of the doorframe.
âjesus,â she groans under her breath, clearly hard now, sweat dripping from her temples, breathing like she just ran a marathon.
you chuckle and walk off like nothing happened, calling over your shoulder:
âlemonadeâs in the fridge if you need to cool off, sweetheart.â
vi drops onto your couch the moment youâre out of sight, throws her head back, and mutters:
âiâm gonna die. iâm actually gonna die. from thirst.â
itâs not supposed to be a big deal.
you text her something casual:
âhey sweetheart, can you bring the bottle from the fridge? hands full đđâ
vi sprints.
like sprints across the yard, slides through your back door in socks, bottle in hand, chest heaving like she just finished cardio. sheâs sweating. heart racing. already down bad because you called her sweetheart again.
she doesnât even knock. just steps into your cozy little living room like always and calls out, âgot theââ
then stops.
and drops the damn bottle.
youâre on the couch.
top pulled down. baby cradled to your bare breast. your head tipped back, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly as you hum a soft lullaby. you donât even notice her at first.
vi just stands there.
dead.
brain: blue screen. vision: blurry. crotch: raging boner.
she triesâtriesâto look away. but the curve of your breast, the way the babyâs little fist clutches your shirt, the soft rise and fall of your chestâŚ
she whimpers.
like audibly.
you finally glance up, blinking slow. âvi?â
âiâs-sorryâfuckâbottle,â she stutters, bending to pick it up and almost falling over. she keeps her eyes on the floor like thatâll save her from spontaneous combustion.
you smile, unfazed, lifting the baby gently off your chest and tucking your top back up. âshe was starving. you got here just in time.â
vi canât speak.
you walk over and take the bottle from her handsâher shaking handsâand nod toward the couch. âsit. you okay?â
she sits like a robot. legs clamped tight. face red as hell. ây-yeah. totally. normal. healthy.â
you laugh. âdidnât mean to shock you. youâve never seen someone breastfeed before?â
ânotââ you. ânot someone like you.â
you raise a brow. âlike me?â
she looks up, eyes blown out, and whispers, âhot.â
silence.
then you giggle and ruffle her hair. âyouâre adorable.â
she dies again.
literally lays back on your couch with a hand over her eyes and mutters, âiâm gonna marry you.â
you just smirk, bounce the baby gently, and say, âbetter take me to dinner first, baby girl.â
she chokes.
it starts around midnight.
viâs in bed. shirtless. half-hard. brain running laps about the way your ass looked earlier when you bent over the stroller. sheâs just about to give in and touch herselfâlike she hasnât already done that three times this weekâwhen she hears it.
a moan.
muffled. desperate. yours.
then another one.
soft, strained, and punctuated by a frustrated groan. âughhh, noâcâmon baby, pleaseââ
vi sits up straight, eyes wide, hair sticking up in every direction.
is someone in your house?!
is someone⌠touching you?!
her jealousy catches fire. she doesnât even grab a shirt. just yanks on sweatpants, grabs a wrench (???) from her closet like sheâs gonna be your knight in shining fuckinâ armor, and sprints next door barefoot like a lunatic.
she doesnât knock.
just bursts in like a heat-seeking missile. âhey! you okay?! whatâs going onâ!â
and freezes.
because youâre in the living room. hair messy, wearing a big sleep shirt, holding the baby upright against your shoulder. your eyes are bagged, chest rising and falling like youâve been fighting demons.
you blink at her. â...vi?â
she stares.
you blink again. âwhy are you holding a wrench?â
vi lowers it. âiâuhâheard you moaning.â
you tilt your head. âi was soothing a baby, not getting railed.â
âiââ
âyou broke into my house.â
viâs entire soul leaves her body.
you sigh and flop onto the couch, baby still whimpering against your shoulder. âsheâs teething. iâve tried everything. warm milk, lullabies, rocking, crying on the floor, begging the universeâŚâ
vi shuffles awkwardly in place. âi really thoughtâi just wanted to make sure you were safe.â
you look at her again. that big, strong idiot in baggy pants and no shirt, still holding a wrench like sheâs gonna fight your imaginary boyfriend.
and then you laugh. like, real laugh. the tired, cute kind that makes her chest ache.
you pat the spot beside you. âcome here, bodyguard. you woke her up all the way, so now youâre part of this.â
vi slinks over, cheeks on fire, and sits close. the baby instantly grabs her hair.
you smile. âcongrats. youâre a chew toy now.â
vi mutters under her breath, âworth it.â
then louder: âyouâre⌠really amazing with her.â
you look at her, eyes soft. âyeah? you think iâd make a good mom?â
vi looks at you like sheâs praying youâll say that again.
âthe best,â she whispers.
you smile. âso sweet. but you still broke into my house, dummy.â
vi nods solemnly. âiâd do it again.â
vi hadnât meant to fall asleep thinking about you.
but youâd hugged her that evening.
youâd said, âthank you, sweetheart,â all soft and tired, arms around her waist while the baby slept upstairs. and sheâpoor, tragic, twenty-year-old viâhad gone home with trembling hands and a burning face, repeating your voice in her head like a spell.
so of course, when sleep hit, it hit wrong.
sheâs dreaming.
youâre in a sunlit kitchen, barefoot and glowing. your bellyâs roundâswollen with childâand youâre humming softly as you stir something in a pot. wearing her old hoodie. stretching tight over that huge bump.
you smile over your shoulder. âmorning, mama.â
mama.
she comes up behind you, presses her chest against your back, palms splayed over your stomach. you lean into her like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âthis all yours,â you whisper in the dream. âyou knocked me up good, baby.â
vi groans.
you turn in her arms, lift her hand to your mouth, kiss her fingersâthen suck one between your lips like you know sheâs weak.
âyou gonna fill me again?â you whisper, voice silk. âyou wanna watch me waddle around carrying your babies?â
sheâs panting in her sleep.
hard as a rock. grinding into her pillow like sheâll die if she doesnât get friction. sweat at her temples. jaw clenched.
in the dream, you push her back onto the couch and climb into her lap. âiâm ovulating, baby. better hurry.â
she whimpersâa real sound that escapes her throat in bed as she ruts helplessly against the mattress.
still dreaming.
you straddle her. she sees your swollen tits, your fucked-out expression, your belly tight with her kid.
âyou did this to me,â you moan. âall yours. you want more?â
ây-yesâfuck, yes,â she gasps into the pillow.
and thenâ
she wakes up.
drenched in sweat. hips still twitching. boner pressed against soaked boxers. pillow between her thighs like it personally wronged her.
she stares at the ceiling, chest heaving.
ââŚi need help.â
she doesnât even bother cleaning up before grabbing her phone and texting you:
âdo u need help babysitting. rn. iâm free. iâll bring muffins. anything.â
you reply three minutes later:
âso sudden 𼺠come over. i just got peed on. again.â
she throws on pants and sprints.
it was supposed to be innocent.
youâd texted:
âcan you throw the load in the dryer for me? baby finally fell asleep and iâm scared to move đŠđâ
vi, of course, was already halfway across the yard by the time you hit send.
she lets herself in (as always now), heads straight for the laundry nook, and opens the washer.
and then she sees it.
your underwear.
not just any pair. that pair.
the black lacy one with the tiny bow and the high cut andâfuckâit still smells like you. a little fabric soaked in pheromones and torture. her brain flatlines.
she stares.
sheâs so sick. so down bad. so gone for you that her fingers twitch and before she can stop herself, she lifts it to her face.
deep inhale.
one.
two.
âvi?â
she screams.
youâre behind her. holding a half-asleep baby against your chest. looking at her like she just got caught trying to rob a church.
âiâiâthis isnâtââ she drops your underwear like itâs radioactive. âi can explain.â
you raise an eyebrow.
her voice jumps an octave. âitâs for a bet.â
you blink. âa bet.â
âyes! my friend dared me. i said i wouldnât but iâm not a coward andââ she gestures wildly like thatâll save her soul. âlook, i didnât even mean to sniff that hard!â
you're silent for three long seconds.
then you tilt your head, absolutely unimpressed. âvi.â
âyes?â
âyou sniffed it like you were dying.â
she opens her mouth. closes it. looks at the ground.
you sigh, adjust the baby on your shoulder. âfinish drying the laundry, perv. and fold it properly.â
she nods, ashamed. âyes maâam.â
you start to leave.
but before you disappear down the hall, you smirk over your shoulder. âfor the record⌠that pairâs my favorite.â
vi stands frozen.
then whispers to herself:
ââŚiâm gonna nut in this laundry room.â.
vi never gets sick.
thatâs what she says, anyway. but now sheâs a sweaty, shivering mess on your couch, hoodie sticking to her back, cheeks flushed and nose red as she sniffles like a kicked puppy.
âyou look like death,â you murmur, setting a bowl of soup on the coffee table.
vi glares up from her blanket cocoon. âyou look like an angel. so we balance out.â
you laugh. âsmooth even while dying, huh?â
she grins weakly. âtrying to get laid before the fever kills me.â
you just roll your eyes, press the back of your hand to her forehead. âstill burning up. eat your soup, dumbass.â
she eats two spoonfuls before she passes out on your lap.
you donât move.
you just let her sleep, your fingers lazily carding through her messy pink hair while the baby monitor hums softly in the background. her face softens when sheâs asleepâno cocky smirk, no flirtatious remarks. just long lashes, chapped lips, freckles. twenty years old and absolutely wrecked by your existence.
and thenâ
she moans.
soft at first. just a breathy, âmmnhâŚâ
you pause.
then it happens again. louder this time.
âmmâ[your name]âŚâ
your eyes widen.
ââŚso fuckinâ softâŚâ she mutters, hips twitching under the blanket. âwanna⌠breed you fullâŚâ âit trails into a shaky whimper.
you blink.
breed you full.
this bitch is dry humping your couch in her fever dream.
you glance down. the blanketâs tented. her hips are doing a pathetic little roll and sheâs straight-up panting now.
ââŚsuck your tits while youâre pregnantâŚâ she breathes, completely gone. âmine⌠mineâŚâ
your face burns.
you should wake her up. you should. but instead youâre frozen, one hand over your mouth, staring at the down bad mess in your lap like sheâs a perverted victorian poet possessed by baby fever.
then she moans again, almost a whine:
âmommyâŚâ
you shove her off your lap.
she hits the floor with a thud, eyes fluttering open. âhuhâwhatâ?â
youâre standing over her, arms crossed, face unreadable.
she blinks, looks down at her very obvious situation, then back up at you.
âiâuhâbad dream?â
you raise an eyebrow.
ââŚreally bad dream?â
you just toss her a pillow. âsleep on the floor, romeo.â
she groans and flops back down, whispering into the cushion, âworth it.â
you say it casually.
like itâs nothing.
like you didnât just rip her entire soul out of her chest and crush it lovingly between your fingers.
youâre both at the park. itâs quiet. sunset bleeding gold into the sky, baby sleeping in the stroller as you sip your drink beside her on the bench. youâve been chatting about nothingâabout strollers with better wheels, about viâs new job at the gym, about your favorite lullabiesâand then you just drop it.
âyou knowâŚâ you hum, looking out over the grass, âi think youâd be a good dad.â
vi chokes on her spit.
you glance over, confused. âwhat? iâm serious.â
she wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her hoodie like a panicked man-child, eyes wide, ears red, legs spread too far like sheâs trying to hide a very obvious situation in her pants.
âyou okay?â
âiâyeahâgoodâgreatâjustââ she gulps. âwhyâd you say that?â
you shrug. âyouâre sweet with the baby. patient. you carry her like sheâs made of glass, and she always stops crying when you hum. itâs just cute.â
cute. sheâs gonna pass out.
you look away again, smiling to yourself like you didnât just nuke her from orbit. âsome people arenât built for it. but youâve got that soft part under the muscle, you know?â
viâs silent for a beat too long.
then:
âi want it to be you.â
you blink.
âwhat?â
sheâs breathing fast now. canât stop herself. doesnât want to.
âi want it to be you. i think about it all the time, okay? youâround with my kid, sitting on my lap, feeding them with your tits out, walking around the house glowing, whining about cravings. i want all of it. with you.â
you stare.
she keeps going. âi canât stop thinking about it. itâs sick, probably. youâre older, smarter, out of my leagueâfuck, i knowâbut every time you call me sweetie or ask me to hold the baby, i get hard. i dream about knocking you up. i dream about putting a ring on your finger and watching your belly swell.â
you open your mouth.
she rushes to fill the silence. âif thatâs too much, i get it. iâll back off. but i had to say it before i fucking explode. you make me crazy. i wanna breed you and worship you and hold your hand at the same time.â
you look at her. really look at her.
the trembling hands. the flustered face. the heart practically beating out of her chest. and all you can do is smile, slow and wicked.
âokay then,â you say.
ââŚokay?â
you lean close. lips nearly brushing her ear.
âbreed me, then.â
vi blacks out.
literally slumps on the bench.
you shake her gently. âvi?â
âiâm fine,â she groans, hand over her face. âiâm gonna nut and cry at the same time but iâm fine.â
vi never meant to stay this long.
youâd invited her over to âwatch a movie,â but the baby had been fussy, the wine had been opened, your head had ended up on her shoulder. now itâs nearly 1 am, and sheâs still on your couchâstiff, sweaty, trying not to come in her fucking pants just from the weight of your body against hers.
you yawn. stretch. rise from the couch in that loose silk nightgown sheâs been trying not to look at all night. thin straps. clingy fabric. no bra. nipples poking through like itâs personal.
âcâmon,â you murmur, eyes half-lidded. âcome to bed, sweetheart.â
her whole body tenses.
you walk off slow. the sway of your hips deliberate. that little flash of skin where the hem lifts when you turn the corner into your bedroom.
vi doesnât think. she follows.
the room is dim. lamp glowing. sheets pulled back like youâd been waiting for her. the babyâs long goneâsafely back at her parentsâ place. and youâre standing at the foot of the bed, lips curved in that tired, sexy smile as you murmur,
âtake your clothes off, baby.â
thatâs it.
thatâs the moment she breaks.
vi steps forward like sheâs in a trance, hoodie hitting the floor, then her sweatpants. sheâs already hardâaching, throbbing, tip leaking like her cockâs been waiting for your voice this whole time.
you sit on the edge of the bed, part your thighs slightly, and whisper, âshow me how much you want it.â
vi sinks to her knees instantly.
she pushes your gown up, breath hitching at the sight of your thighs, the way your pussyâs glisteningâalready wet. her hands tremble as she presses her mouth to the inside of your knee and drags her tongue up.
âgod, you smell so good,â she groans. âso fucking sweet, mommy.â
you tangle your fingers in her hair and guide her in.
she doesnât hold back. her tongue drags slow and deep through your folds, lapping like a woman starved. she sucks on your clit until your hips jerk, then moans against you when you tug her hair.
âs-shit, viââ you breathe, thighs trembling. âyouâre eating me out likeââ
âlike iâm in love with you?â she growls between licks. âi am. been in love with you since the first time i saw you hold that baby.â
you cry out as her tongue plunges inside you.
she groans. âwanna knock you up so bad. wanna fill you and watch it take. youâd look so fucking pretty with my kid in you.â
youâre gasping now, one hand over your mouth as your body tenses, riding her face until you breakâspasming on her tongue with a soft, desperate moan of her name.
she keeps going. slower. gentle. worshipful.
when you finally pull her up by the hair, eyes glazed, lips swollen, she looks at you like sheâd die if you asked her to.
âi want it,â you whisper.
viâs cock twitches. ây-yeah?â
you nod, chest rising and falling. âcome inside me, baby. youâve wanted it, havenât you? fill me up like you mean it.â
she lets out a shaky breath. âfuck.â
she climbs onto the bed, cock heavy between her thighs, flushed and leaking. you reach between your legs and guide her in yourself, moaning when the fat head of her cock pushes past your folds and stretches you open.
viâs voice cracks. âoh my god, youâreâshitâyouâre perfect.â
she starts slow. long, deep strokes that have your eyes rolling back, her hands gripping your thighs as she fucks into you with growing urgency.
âyou want my baby, huh?â she pants. âwant me to pump you full âtil it sticks?â
you nod, delirious, grinding up into her. ây-yeahâfill me, vi, pleaseââ
she snaps her hips. hard.
you cry out.
her hand grips your jaw, holding your gaze. âlook at me while i do it. look at me when i breed you.â
you shudder under her, legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into her back as she pounds into you.
then she slowsâpresses her forehead to yours.
voice soft now.
âi love you,â she whispers.
you blink up at her, tears in your lashes, body full and aching.
you smile. âi love you too.â
she moans. deep. shaky. like the words undid her.
and then she buries herself inside you.
you feel itâhot, thick spurts flooding your cunt as she cries out your name, body twitching, cock pulsing deep inside. you hold her through it. rock with her. feel her collapse into your arms, panting, still buried to the hilt.
she kisses your collarbone. your cheek. your lips.
âmine,â she whispers again and again.
âyours,â you promise, holding her close.
you fall asleep like thatâher cock still inside, your bodies tangled, your future rewritten in the heat of one shared breath.
911 notes
¡
View notes
Text
⼠Chauffeur .
⼠old!manlogan x fem!reader
summary: mean old logan canât help but to push the best thing away in his life. and you canât help but to let go of your worst.
⼠tags: stubbornness, age gap (readers in her late 20s), reader is a mutant, old man logan having a wet dream, car sex, riding, creampies, possibly pregnancy, reader is very rich and established, brat taming, readerâs boyfriend is an ASSHOLE, logan is an asshole but thatâs nothing new, etcâŚ
note: we all wanna ride, old man logan. also, stepping away from jjk for a bit. wc: 4.9k
Everyday was the same when you got into the car. There was a smile on your face and you greeted him, even if you didnât get a response most of the timeâyou still treated him with kindness. He was your driver after all and you were trusting him with your life.
â45th and Madison, please.â You placed your purse into your lap and buckled up as he pulled off from your house, keeping his eyes on the road.
âHow was your night Logan? Get any rest?â You stared at the side of his face, taking in his rugged features. âGood.â Was all he grunted, hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the busy streets of New York. You didnât bother to question him anymore, not wanting to piss him off on this beautiful morning.
The car ride was silent on the way to your company, the only thing that couldnât be heard was the soft hum of the car and the sound of the air conditioner blowing its cool air. And when he pulled up to your job, you opened your mouth to speak, âthanks, and hereâ.â you leaned over and handled him an envelope full of money, the scent of cigars and cologne invading your nostrils; making you swoon.
He muttered a thanks and you quickly got out of the car, âIâll text you what time to pick me up! Later Logan~â You waved and smiled, watching the old man pull off into the nearby trafficâbefore you entered the double doors to your million dollar company.
You were one of the top businesswomen in the world, employing the most mutants and paying them fairly. You started this company when you were just a teen, not seeing any jobs for mutants when you were growing upâso you decided to make that change. You wanted a safe place for mutants to be able to work in, something like your mentor; Charles Xavier wanted.
You had to do it for your people, especially when the whole world was against you all.
Even though you were a multimillionaire and you owned a license, you didnât have time to drive yourself around. You hired Logan after a friend recommended him. They praised him for everything that he did for them, he was more than a driver, and when got the chance to meet him in personâyou were sold.
You grew very fond of the older man as time passed. He plagued your mind as you worked, his face clouding your thoughts while you were in important meetingsâdriving you insane. It was clear as day that you had a crush on him, however despite how you felt; you knew he would never think of you like the way you thought of him.
âWill you have dinner with me tonight? Wear that red dress that makes you look like a fucking supermodel?â The voice of your business partner and boyfriend broke you out of your daze, while the two of you ate lunch in the high-end lounge your company acquired.
Eric, was a guy you met at a press conference that supported you when you wanted to have more mutants employed and treated as normal in the world, when the public was against your kind. He was intelligent and an all around amazing person, and when he asked you out one dayâthe two of you immediately hit it off. You were happy to have himâŚ..but there was something you didnât like. He would put himself first before you.
He did this a couple of times, putting him and his buddies before you; and you called him out on itâbut he always apologized and told you it wouldnât happen again. Liar.
âWill it just be us this time? Last time it was me and your frat brothers. And I hate that night, you left me all alone.â You pouted and he chuckled before leaning over to kiss your lips. âItâll just be us this time, I promiâhold that thought,â his phone started to ring and he quickly pulled it out; talking to whoever was on the other end. You sighed and continued munching on your food, before you headed back to your office; alone.
Logan was already outside of your office when you finally exited your companyâs building. You hopped into the truck and he pulled off once you buckled up, heading into the direction of your house. âHow was your day Logan?â You looked at him through the mirror, studying those hazel eyes of his, which connected onto yours as he answered you.
âGood.â You smiled and relaxed into your seat, enjoying the ride back home. âOh, Ericâs and I are going out to eat. You can come inside while I get ready, it shouldnât take long.â You beamed and he tensed up in his seat. You couldnât see it, but Logan rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel at the mention of your boyfriend. He wasnât fond of him, thought the guy was an asshole from the moment he met him. He felt like you deserved better, he knew you did.
But, who was he to judge? He was no saint himself.
After he pulled up to your house and the two of you entered, you were immediately greeted by your calicoâPersia. She purred and rubbed against your leg before she spotted the tall man a few steps behind you. The cat inched over to him and sniffed his pants leg, before she rubbed herself against him; purring once more. Logan grunted and you smiled, reaching down to rub the soft furred animal, âsheâs never donât that before, she usually hisses at strangers. she must really like you.â
As you stepped deeper into your house, putting down your things and slowly stripping out of your work clothes, before turning to the grumpy old man standing at your front door, âHe wants me to meet him there. Iâm going to get ready, in the meantime are you hungry? Foodâs in the fridge.â
âIâm good.â His voice was gruff and his face was blank, when he connected eyes with you, moving away from your cat. You unbuttoned the last black button to your matching button up, leaving you in your deep green matching underwear setâcausing him to look away. âI have a huge liquor cabinet, help yourself.â
He watched as you ascended up the stairs before shaking his head and entering your kitchen. He admired your boldness, comfortable enough to undress in front of him, but he felt like he didnât deserve to see you like that. No one did. Especially that fucked face motherfucka, Eric.
Logan took a look at your cabinet, impressed with your collection of wines, cognacs and other strong liquids; but he was more impressed to see this thirty year aged whiskey you had. Hibiki Whiskey, his favorite. He smiled to himself and grabbed it along with a glass, pouring a nice bit into it; before downing itâthe smoothness flowing down his throat beautifully.
He sat on your couch, sipping on the dark liquor, while taking a look around your house. He found comfort in the decor, your home feltâŚ.safe. Something he hadnât felt in ages. It was so safe that he couldnât help but drift off into sleep, something he hardly did lately.
He mustâve been sleeping for a while, deep into his dream; this one a little different from the oneâs he usually had about you.. You had frequented his dream world on occasion when he did sleep. Your warm smile was something he saw on a daily basis; when you were cooking for him or sometimes the two of you appeared in a field of flowersâyour smile overshadowed the sun. But, this one was a lot different. You were on top, riding him.
Everything felt and looked so realistic. The same emerald green set you wore was glued to your body. The panties were pulled to the side, your essence sticking to them and his cock; while you bounced. Your body looked so beautiful and he knew he shouldnât be dreaming about you like this, but he couldnât help himselfâespecially when you turned around; face contorted in sheer arousal. And then he lost it, when you opened up your mouth and moaned his name.
âLogan~â fuck, he could feel you clench down on him, as you brought your ass down on him againâmoaning his name once more. But this time you were louder, repeating his name over and over again; his tired hazel eyes shooting open, staring at your own. You were standing in front of him, wearing a beautiful ruby red dress; which clung to your body and accentuated your curves, smiling at him.
âSorry, I didnât mean to startle you. But, I need your help zipping up my dressâplease~.â He nodded, shifting in his spot to hide the boner that was poking through his black corduroy pantsâreaching over to help zip you up. His rough fingers melted into your soft skin, as he held his hand on your upper back for support; his mind going right back to his dream. Fuck, he was going to hell for dreaming about you like that.
You looked beautiful, standing a little taller than usualâthanks to your gold heels that matched your jewelry. You decided to curl your natural hair, which framed your soft made-up face. He could stare at you all day.
âThanks. Iâm ready to go!â And there you go with that smile, that slowly melted his cold heart.
You waited outside of the restaurant in the car, waiting for Eric to show up. It had been ten minutes since you arrived and he still wasnât there, wasnât answering his phone either. Your gut told you to leave, but you couldnât bring yourself to itâyou were hoping he would show up. So, to get your mind off of him, you sparked a conversation up with Logan.
âHey Logan, tell me about yourself. What do you do besides driving?â He clenched his teeth and kept a grip on the carâs steering wheel.
âNothing.â
âReally? I heard you were a bodyguard and a hitman. What was thatââ He turned around and glared at you, cutting you off as he spoke. âListen. Iâm not one of your fucking girlfriends you sit and gossip with. Got it?â His voice was deep and scary, while his eyes told a different story. However, you nodded and looked away, blinking back the tears that wanted to leave your own.
Then, your phone rang and you immediately answered. On the other end of the line was Eric, apologizing about not showing up and begging for the two of you to reschedule. You swallowed the lump in your throat and told him that it was alright, saying you were tired anyways; before hanging up and slumping into your seat. âTake me home.â Was all that you could muster up to say, before a stream of tears cascaded down your faceâruining your makeup.
The car ride was silent, besides the sounds of your sobsâwhich slowly broke the old man. He kept glancing at you through the mirror, feeling like a dick because he played a part in your sadness too. But, an apart of him felt angry, he wanted to kick Ericâs ass for standing you up. How could he not see what was right in front of him?
As the car halted in front of your house, you immediately got out, slamming the door behind you before you sped walked to the front doorânot looking backâtoo embarrassed to speak to him. And one he saw that you were safely inside, he drove off and headed into the direction of the nearby barâready to drink the night away.
This was one of the worst nights ever and neither of you would forget it.
The following days were like a blur for you. You hadnât been to work for a week, taking some time off to try and understand your mental.
That day played in your mind over and over, you were hurt twice that night. But, the look on Loganâs face haunted you. You could tell there was more behind those eyes, besides all that anger, something else laid behind themâand you wanted to know more. No matter how much he tried to push you away.
Currently, you were sitting on your couch with Persia by your side, eating ice cream and watching whatever was on tvâignoring the spam calls from Eric; when you were startled by a loud pound on your front door. You looked at the door then at Persia, fists clenched as your powers started to surge; before you started to creep towards the door. You swung it open, ready to pummel whoever was on the other side, until you saw who was standing on your porch.
Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, looking at the older man who was covered in blood and holding onto his arm. âLogan! What the hell happened?â You asked, helping him into your home and shutting the door afterwardsâto hide him from any nosey neighbors; before you ushered him into your downstairs bathroom. He sat down on the toilet with a clang, before he started to remove his clothes; with your help.
âWhose blood is this?â You asked, putting his bloody beater into the hammer behind you before inspecting his scarred face. âMost of it was someone elseâs. Donât worry, Iâll heal.â He moved away from your touch, but you immediately pulled him back; your eyes piercing him.
âI know, but until your healing factor kicks in, im gonna help. And i'm not asking.â He chuckled and nodded his head, before you used your powers on himâstopping the blood from leaking out until his own powerâs kicked in. One of his thick eyebrows raised in confusion, before you answered him.
âBlood manipulation. Now letâs put that shoulder back in place. Here, bite down on this.â You handed him a washcloth, but he declined.
âJust do it, princess. I can take it.â He reassured and you stared at him for a moment, before whispering an âokayâ. Without warning, you gripped his arm and pushed it back into his socket, making him yell out in painâhis claws unsheathing in the process.
âIâm sorry! Iâm sorry!â You apologized, making him shake his head in response. His claws retracted and he pulled you in by your waistâhis body heat warming you as you stood next to him. His hazel eyes searched all over your face, lingering on your plump lips before backing up to your soft irises, âneed a drink, right now.â
The two of you sat in your kitchen, sharing a bottle of ten year old cognac, while Logan shared stories about what he didâanswering your question from last week. âI also take care of CharlesâŚ.Charles Xavier.â You swallowed the smooth liquor, before responding.
âOh, I knew that already.â He raised an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing. âHe accidentally called on your phone, thinking I was Taco Bell, until I spoke with him. Heâs a funny guy, Iâve always imagined he wasâŚâŚI was a big fan of his when I was younger.â There was some silence, as he thought about the Professor and his current state.
You got up from your spot and put your glass in the sink, done drinking for night, before going into the fridge for a snackâuntil his deep voice made you stop moving. âLook, princessâŚ.about the other nightââ
âItâs fine. No need to apologize.â
âNo, but I need to. I was a jerk and you just wanted to get to know me. So, I'm sorry.â He was now standing in front of you, towering over you, still shirtless from earlier. Your eyes trailed over his hairy, toned abs, before you looked up at his beautiful rugged faceâpressing your thighs together as you felt that familiar pulsing between your legs. You nodded and turned on your heels to leave, but his rough hands pulled you back; making you stumble, before he caught you.
âWhat happened to you and whatâs his face?â He spoke and you snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of Eric. âHeâs an asshole, who likes to waste my time.â
Logan clenched his teeth, feeling himself get upset at the mere thought of him mistreating you. âDick canât see what the hell he has right in front of him?â You blushed, and bit your bottom lip, your smaller hands reaching up to toy with his platinum dog tags. âNeither can you.â
He froze and you stopped moving, eyes slowly looking up at his, until he leaned down and pulled you in a wet, sloppy kiss. His hands immediately went down to your ass, squeezing the soft fat through your tiny black shorts; something he thought doing for a while now. You squealed when he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop behind you, never breaking his lips from yours. Despite being an old man, he still had the same strength he did when he was younger.
He kissed down from your lips to your chest that was hidden behind your hot pink beater, nipples standing at attention. He circled the imprint of them with his tongue, making you moan out, before he made his way down to your clothed cunt; your arousal plaguing his nose.
âKnew you wanted this since earlier, could smell her calling out for me~â He swiped his tongue over your clothed slit, slick already staining the dark fabric. He pulled the shorts down with ease, hazel eyes growing darker as he was met face to face with your bare cunt; your essence making your puffy lips glisten.
âShit.â He cursed, loving the sight of your pretty pussy dripping just for him, he couldnât help but to dive in and enjoy the meal you had set right in front of him. The sensation of his beard and his tongue rubbing against you, made you moan out; back arching off of the counter and your hands tugging on his salt n pepper colored hairâgrinding against his face.
He worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, forcing more and more of your sweet translucent arousal from your aching hole; building up your orgasm. Logan spat against your soaked cunt, using his fingers to rub it all over soft lips; before pushing a thick finger into your holeâmaking you yell out a series of curse words.
âGonna cumâf-fuck! Just like that Logan!â He continued to lap up your juice and pump his fingers in and out of you, curling themâmaking them punch your spot over and over; making you gush all over him. The grip you had on his hair was tight as you came, but he ignored it and continued to draw out your orgasm; before pulling away and pressing his wet lips against yours.
The kiss was sloppy, filled with nothing but hunger as you licked every inch of his wet face, tasting yourself; a low hum leaving his lips. And as your hand reached down to feel the bulge in his pants, he pulled awayâmaking you whimper. But, when he backed further away and wouldnât look at you, you noticed something was wrong.
âLogan?â You started, slipping off the counter, legs wobbling as you stood and walked over to him; only for him to back away once more.
âGotta go. This was a mistake.â And before you could protest, he made a beeline to your front door, opening it and shutting it behind him; not bothering to grab his shirt or turning to look at you.
What the actual fuck?
You returned back to work the following day. Logan dropped you off of course, but he barely acknowledged youâevident he didnât want to talk about what happened yesterday. But, you needed to talk about it, wondering what made him stop. Surely he didnât think you would just be alright with him eating your pussy and making you cum, and not feel something about him?
However, you would deal with the grumpy old man later. Today, you had to face the asshole of the year, Eric. You left the car with a simple âbyeâ to Logan, before taking the elevator ride up to your officeâs floor, trying to push yesterdayâs events out of your mind.
Your baby blue heels clicked on the wooden floor as you sashayed down the walk way, making heads turn and people cheer; excited for your return. However as you approached your office, you were stopped by your assistant, who had a look of worry on their face.
âWhatâs the matter?â You questioned, looking at your office before going back to your assistant. They gulped and prepared themselves to tell you what lies in your office.
âMr. Ericâs in there...and heâs not alone. Heâs with anotherââ you cut them off and storm past them, opening the wooden door, eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of you. Your boyfriend was balls deep into your new intern, having her bent over your crisp white desk.
The sound of the door slamming shut startled them and the girl screamed, scrambling to pull her skirt down, while apologizing to you frantically. You held up your finger and shushed her, motioning to the door so she could leave. And once she did, you immediately sauntered over to the guilty maleâbody temperature increasing by the second.
âHow long?â You questioned, your tone flat and emotionless. He stuttered, but then he looked down and looked back upâa devious smirk on his face.
âA good couple of months now. Whyâd you think i pushed for you to hire her? What, did you think Iâd actually love someone like you?â He chuckled, circling around you, while you raised an eyebrow. âAnd what does that mean? Someone like me?â
âYour kind! A fucking mutant! Iâve been using you from the beginning, I just wanted to get my hands on this companyâhave you mutants under my control. Starting with youââ You set him flying back with a punch to his cheek, making him fly through the door; knocking it down.
All you saw was red as you marched over to him, your employees shocked at what was going down, but none of them dared to step in. âThisâŚ.this is what I expected from you people! Pure chaos and violence.â He smirked, blood pooling from his mouth as he spewed his hate.
Using your powers, you were able to make more blood flow out of him; making a wound in his lungâwhich caused him to cough up some more blood. And as you raised your fist to punch him once more, your wrist was caughtâstopping your movements. You turned to see Logan, his hazel eyes begging for you to stop.
He smelled danger when he was on his way up to your office, since you had forgotten your phone in the car he wanted to bring it to you. Only to be met with you about to kill a man.
âHeâs had enough. Let him go.â You knew better than to protest, so you used your powers to close the internal wound on Eric; calming yourself down as Logan pulled you back into his arms. âGet him out of here, heâs fired!â
You were fuming in the car. Angry was an understatement, you were pissed. You were humiliated. You were hurt. Logan couldnât stop checking on you through the rear view mirror, until he decided to pull over to the side of the roadâputting the car in park. He hopped out of the car and opened up your side door, nodding for you to get out.
âLoganâwhat are youââ
âLet it out. It helps to let everything out.â You squinted and chuckled. How ironic of him to try and help you not keep things bottled inside.
âYou canât be fucking serious! You of all people, trying to give advice on their feelings? Youâre the fucking king of keeping things in!â You stepped closer to him, but he didnât budge, letting you get it all out of your system.
âYou pushed me away from the beginning! Then you come in my fucking house like a wounded dog and then on top of it allâyou made me have the best orgasm of my life and let me fall in love with you! Who does that!â Hot tears rolled down your pretty face, while you poked into his broad chest with each word.
You were right. He did push you away. He couldnât open his heart, his stubbornness would allow him. But, he couldnât let his past haunt his future, not anymore. So, he decided right then and there to finally open up and let you in.
Logan pulled you in close, the smell of his cologne and the cigar he smoked earlier was soothing; it warmed youâwhich made it easier for you to accept his kiss. All of that anger washed over you while your tongues danced with one another. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck; while gripping your hips and picking you upâmaking his way over to the car and placing you in the seats, laying you on your back.
He wasted no time and tugged off your clothes, your grey dress falling to the floor; along with your panties and bra. He stepped back, taking a moment to bask in your glory. You were beautiful and he was going to cherish this moment forever.
His slacks dropped to his ankles and you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his cock out, making them widen. âKnew you were huge~â you said, your slick pooled and dribbled down your crack, making the black leather seats glisten underneath you.
Logan grabbed his girth, rubbing against your swollen clit; eliciting moans from your sweet lipsâcoating himself in your fluids. Angling himself at your entrance, he pushed himself in; stretching you as he eased himself in.
âGoodââŚ..girl. Thatâs it, princessâtake all of itâ He grunted, praising you as you were able to take all of him in one go. You winced, his tip pressing into your cervix, making you inch away from himâonly to be pulled back in. He wanted you to sit there and take it. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Some dick.
He held your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he began to move inside of youâhis strokes were deep and powerful; making your eyes roll back and your lids flutter. The more he moved, the more you grew arousedâmaking you a moaning mess while he fucked the shit out of you.
You clung to him with each stroke, making the older male grunt. Your tits bounced and clashed against each other as the two of you moved, hypnotizing Logan. He leaned down and plopped one of them into his mouth, sucking on your nipples like it was a peppermint. You moaned out, hands clawing at the back of the seat right next to youâpleasure too intense for you.
He was fucking you so good, splitting your pussy open with each movement; orgasm rising inside of you. âPlease! Logan, I'm gonna cum! Waitâslow downâfuck!â He ignored your pleas, his pace increasing by the second. Who knew that this old man could have that much stamina?
Continuing to make a mess out of your pussy, he continued to rub against your g-spotâmaking your orgasm course through you. You clung to him and clenched around him sporadically, creaming all over him. He growled, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on himâbut you pulled out, causing him to groan.
âSit. Wanna ride you.â
His hands clung to your waist, helping you bounce on his dickâfilling you up completely. You gripped his shoulder for support, as the car rocked with your movements. The sound of your pussy and the clapping of your ass against him, made him feral and he couldnât help but to grip your assâhard, pushing you further down on him.
âFuck, princess. Where do you want it?â
âInside! Deep inside of me.â You didnât care what would come afterwards. You just didnât want him to stop fucking you. Logan pressed another kiss to your lips, rough hands smacking your ass as you moved wildlyâwalls getting ready to milk him dry. And with a few more hard bounces, he spurted deep inside of you, inner walls being painted a nice shade of white.
Rocking your hips against him, another orgasm made your body shake; cheeks jiggling against him as you cameâmoaning his name repeatedly.
The two of you stayed like that, his cock softening inside of you, while he continued to bottom outâbefore he pulled out, tip hitting your ass. You kissed him once more, content with how the night ended; finally with the man you deserved to be with.
âI love youâŚ.promise to not push me away?â
He smiled, the first time you saw it on his face, and nodded.
âI love you too.â
#logan howlett x mutant reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#xmen logan#old man logan#old man logan smut#old man logan x reader#old man logan x reader smut#logan smut#wolverine x mutant reader#wolverine x female reader#xmen wolverine#wolverine smut
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
a lesson in condom sense | dbf!j.m. x f!reader
masterlist pairing: dbf!joel miller x sex shop employee!reader summary: [no outbreak] the last customer you expect to be waltzing into your secret day job is your dad's best friend. you can only fight the tension between you two for so long before giving in. warnings: (18+ mdni) what it says on the can: reader works at an adult store, many sex toys referenced (& used!), age gap (mid 20s/early 50s) brief mention of sex work, don't follow reader's example, joel buys a fleshlight, joel fantasizes about you, brief mention of bondage, mostly pwp, reader humps a chair + gets caught doing it, mild exhibitionism, 'just the tip' that leads into unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, joel uses a vibrator on reader, degradation, praise, soft dom!joel, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 6.5k a/n: condom sense is, in fact, a real sex shop that exists and serves the DFW metro area, so not exactly austin, but the name was too perfect not to pretend. unlike these two, please favor condom sense and wrap it up. dbf sex shop joel won the poll for my next wip, but expect coach!joel pt. 2 to be right around the corner.
Admittedly, working at a sex shop isnât the highest point in your life, but it certainly isnât the lowest, either. The 40% off employee discount does soften the blow of lying through your teeth at cookouts. Saying youâre working at Walmart while trying to navigate a competitive job market goes over better than saying you work at Condom Sense.
All things considered, itâs not the worst place youâve worked. Your manager, a 60-year-old stuck in the 70s named Sally, is much more lenient than your past bosses. You get to recommend toys to the girls that come through, and you also get the satisfaction of them coming back to sing your praises. Condom Sense never wouldâve been your first choice of work right out of college, but now you almost mourn the day youâll have to leave.
Thumbing through an old issue of Cosmopolitan, your bubblegum is beginning to lose its flavor. The tinny noise of Madonnaâs âLike a Prayerâ purrs out of the ancient radio sitting alongside tentacle dildos. Itâs still a little weird to have a constant audience of whips, handcuffs, vibrators, fleshlights, and everything in between, but since your bedside drawer has gotten fuller with every shift you take, you really canât judge anything stocked here.
The later shifts are normally slower, especially this close to 11:00. Sometimes thereâs a gaggle of sex workers outside of the door, dressed skimpily no matter how biting the rare Texas cold is, but that isnât the case tonight â youâre the only one here, feet kicked up on a pink stool.
As if the world has it out for you, the rust-eaten bell lets out a metallic jingle, and you canât help but roll your eyes at the thought of having to put your Cosmopolitan away. Who the hell comes into a sex shop twenty minutes before close? Someone whose vibrator gave out on them, someone who needs lube, or both.
âWelcome to Condom Sense,â you put on your customer service voice, reluctantly bouncing off of the stool. You flip your magazine shut and toss it onto the counter, breaking into a crouch to finally make yourself useful by restocking the condom display. âLet me know if you need anything.â
A small grunt comes in response, and then some heavy footsteps carry through the store. Great, even better, you think to yourself, itâs a man.
The crowd thatâs attracted to Condom Sense is mostly college-aged or middle-aged women, not with too much wiggle room in between. Itâs Texas, after all, where ownership of more than six dildos is âprohibitedâ. Sometimes thereâs a stray overeager boyfriend or creep with a receding hairline, but normally Sally is right around the corner to tell anyone out of line to scram, waving around a broom as if trying to fend off a stray dog. Thatâs not the case tonight.
You hold your breath and keep putting boxes of Trojans into the glass display case. Whoeverâs in here is quiet, at least, not the type to ask for help or make too much of a ruckus with knocking shelving units over. Hopefully you can get him checked out quickly so you can close up and head home.
You stay like that for five minutes, sorting through boxes and marking stock until a throat clears in front of the counter.
Jolting up, you smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes, fiddling with your nametag. âHi, yes, you all seeeee-â
Who the hell comes into a sex shop twenty minutes before close? Apparently Joel Miller does. You know, your dadâs best friend.
Maybe itâs because youâre surrounded by phallic dildos, maybe itâs because youâre goddamn stupid, but Mr. Miller, who seems to be fresh off of a worksite, looks good. Even though thereâs an unmistakable surprise stricken across his brown eyes and a splotch of dirt on the slice of neck above his flannel collar, his hair is mussed perfectly, his scruff tamed along his jawline. Your eyes flash down to what heâs holding: a fleshlight.
You hate how quickly your mouth goes dry at the thought of Joel himself thrusting desperately into the dumb toy, and worse is the thought of him using your cunt to get off instead. Youâre quick to remind yourself. Off. Limits. First of all, you donât fuck customers. And you definitely donât fuck customers that are your dadâs best friend.
Joelâs fist tightens around the box as if trying to obscure what you already know. His face is redder than youâve ever seen it, cheeks like apples. In the end, itâs him who speaks first. âThis ainât a Walmart, hun.â
Your face heats up, and you shrug. âPays well.â
âCanât blame ya there,â he nods along. ââS been a while. You alright?â
âI mean, I work at a store called Condom Sense. What do you figure?â
âCâmon now, canât be that bad,â Joel grins at you.
âIt isnât,â you concede. You look him up and down again, trying really hard not to spend too much time on the toy in his hand. âLong day⌠contracting?â
Joel lets out a long, winded sigh through his teeth. âYeah⌠my guys fucked up our concrete job. Had us there two hours longer than we were sâposed to be. Probably gonna be another long one tomorrow.â He runs a hand back through his already disheveled hair, his nose flaring. âNot your problem though, sweetness.â His eyes flick over you, over the counter and the neon signs behind you. âYour daddy know you work here?â
You freeze, eyes widening. âHeâd have a cow, Joel. And if you think youâre about to hold this over my head or somethin-â
âWoah, woah, now when did I ever say any âa that? Thatâs none of my business, hun. Youâre an adult, as long as you're gettinâ paid and youâre comfortable? I donât see the issue.â
You nod, heart slowing to a steadier pace, or at least as steady of a pace as it can manage with Joel standing on the other side of the counter holding a fleshlight. âSo, uh, relaxing night in orâŚ?â You swallow hard. Professionalism, you remind yourself.
Joel laughs, an almost nervous sound as he rubs the back of his neck. âJust⌠a bit dry lately, I guess.â
âFirst time buying?â you ask with a raised brow.
âThat obvious?â He slowly slides the box across the counter to you, and you inspect it under the fluorescents.
You hum under your breath, tilting the box away from you to get a better look. âNot a bad first choice. Iâve heard good things. Since itâs your first time, are you more of a spit-in-your-hand kind of guy, or do you have some massage oil or lube?â
Joel stares at you, almost sputtering as his lips try to form words. âWhat?â
You shake your head, veins suddenly iced over. âShit, sorry, I shouldnât be asking-â
âNo, no, not a problem, sweetheart. Itâs your job. Just⌠donât expect to be hearinâ... that from you.â He chuckles, but it sounds strangled. âI⌠normally spit. âS faster.â
Joel, desperately shucking off his belt and pants, pulling his hardened cock out, spitting into his hand so he can wrap his fist around himself. That first groan of pleasure he lets out, hand moving up, down, up, down. He treasures his alone time so much that he has to be the type to savor itâ but you canât think that far. Your tongue darts out to swipe along your lower lip, and you swear Joel tracks the movement. Your chest is tied up in knots.
âWell, youâre gonna want a heating massage oil. Moves it along easier, feels realer, yâknow?â You reach across the counter and pluck a blue bottle from the display. âThis is our bestseller.â Mustering up the most casual smile you can give him without wincing, you tap your fingers along the countertop.
Joel looks between you and the bottle, gnawing nervously at the inside of his cheek. âThanks, hun. Thatâll be it, then.â
You ring him up, sinking the fleshlight, the oil, and a complimentary toy cleaner deep into a bag that says THANK YOU four times along the side. The printer buzzes as it spits out his receipt, and you hand it all to him. He gives you a nod, casual, simple. You could keep it that way, a tiny interaction isolated to the four walls of Condom Sense, but you feel the words knocking at the backs of your teeth.
Youâre saying them before you can second guess them: âEnjoy yourself, Joel.â
He makes eye contact for what must be the first time that night, eyes murky with something that, if you were more gullible, could come across as want. âI will, sweetheart.â Joel nods, wrapping a large hand around the bag. You donât watch him leave, but you do hear the ring of the doorbell as the door knocks shut. Itâs not enough to distract yourself from thinking of what his moans sound like.
Joel sweats like a whore in church the next time your dad calls him. He practically is one when he thinks about what itâd be like to be inside of the divinity of your body, a rosary of sweat collecting on his neck. Heâd say every prayer if it meant he got to keep thinking of you like that â feels realer, a spit-in-your-hand kind of guy, enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself.
Itâs shameful, the way he thinks of you, the daughter of the man he considers his best friend. But he canât make himself stop. Every time he pulls the fleshlight out of his drawer, you appear in his head. Sometimes youâre bent over the counter, whining as he rolls his hips into yours. Sometimes he rucks up those fucking skirts you wear to shove his face between your thighs, lets you soak his face as you pull his hair. Sometimes youâre riding him, moving how he shifts the fleshlight over his leaking cock.
Every time, regardless of what he imagines, he shakes himself loose in post-orgasm bliss, guilt chewing at his stomach. Every time he passes Condom Sense on the way to a job, he wonders if youâre working. Whatâs a respectable amount of time to stop in for a second sex toy purchase? Joel wouldn't know, and he doesnât want to be selfish. Money doesnât grow on trees, unlike his arousal. The fleshlight is already miles better than his own hand, and he worries what he might say if he sees you bouncing around, say, restocking dildos.
He manages to keep his self control. He doesnât get on his knees and confess his sins to your dad on the phone, or when they run into each other at home depot. By some miracle, he doesnât get any further than flicking his turn signal before immediately turning it off when he passes Condom Sense.
And then he has the dream.
Itâs his day off, a Sunday, and he wakes up to his dick softening and his cum drying on his abdomen and all of the hair spattered there. Thereâs traces of the dream in reach, tugging on the harness heâd tied around your body to pull you back on his cock.
This time, he canât shake himself loose.
Heâs standing in Condom Sense by ten in the morning, running his hands down his sides and feeling oddly exposed, as if every camera or wandering employee can see the shame painted on his skin much like his cum had been. He hopes youâre not here; heâs not sure he can handle it, but he is sure of the arousal that would brim in his lower belly at the mere sight of you. Itâs bad news â everything about this is bad news.
Youâre bad for Joel, and you have been ever since he saw you for the first time after your college graduation, partying in your old manâs living room. Four shots deep and a feather boa around your neck, wearing a low-cut top as you scream-sung Dolly Parton into the busted karaoke machine from your childhood. That was the first time he ever saw you as anything more than your dadâs little girl. It shouldâve been the last, too.
Joel takes a relieved breath when thereâs no immediate sign of you in the store, but you very well could be squatting behind the counter like last time. There's a woman in a pink polo shirt with bangle bracelets standing over by the wall of ropes, reorganizing and sucking on her teeth.Â
He doesnât even know what heâs here for â heâs chasing something he canât have, or at least a semblance of it. The obvious choice is the restraints from his dream, but he has nobody to put them on, no skin to feather with kisses as he pulls them secure. Another fleshlight would be greedy.
And then he hears it. The unmistakable sound of your voice, a shockwave to his chest. He slips behind a display, almost ready to make a beeline for the door when you say, âWe restocked the wands.â Joel glimpses you through the grid of butt plugs heâs hiding behind, where youâre waving around a rectangular white box. âYou were asking for recommendations, right? Well, this oneâs a trooper.â
âThat so?â your co-worker clicks. âMight be too intense for me. Youâre known to be an overachiever.â
âNo shame in a little overstimulation,â you shrug.
Joel slams a fist on his chest to stop himself from hacking out a surprised cough. His thighs go hot, a warmth that spreads between them and tightens his pants as he thinks about you with a wand to your glossy clit, hips squirming for more and less all the same.
âYeah, for you. Iâd be bawlinâ into my pillow in two minutes.â
âItâs my favorite! Only just gave out on me yesterday⌠had her for years, though. My old faithful. Have to say, itâs a little rough waiting for my next paycheck. Nothing else does it for me. Feels fucking incredible.â
Joel walks out. Not because he wants to, but because if he doesnât, he wonât be able to stop himself from spending almost a hundred dollars on that wand and handing it to you in broad daylight. It occurs to him on the uncomfortable drive home, hard and throbbing between his legs, that he wants to be the source of your pleasure, to make you feel good.
Itâs a damning thought for a man like him, but not damning enough.
Pent up is one way to describe the way youâre feeling.
After the unfortunate passing of your trustworthy wand, your fingers nor the rest of your collection of comparably wimpy toys, have been able to do the trick for you. And the worst part of it all? Your paycheck is still three days away.
Youâd like to say not getting off in four days is the source of all of your arousal, but youâre not a liar. At least, not to yourself, because you wouldnât stand at the podium and confess your nastiest Joel-centered fantasies to his face. Itâd been bearable when it was only him fucking the fleshlight taped to the backs of your eyelids. You blame it on the pervy part of yourself thatâs always rubbed her thighs together from watching a man get himself off. Itâs no longer bearable when you start envisioning him moaning your name while he rocks his hips into the toy, chasing his release.
No, itâs not bearable at all.
Sitting behind the same counter youâd checked him out at makes it worse, roughly the same hour of the night that heâd popped in the other day. You keep thinking of how he looked at you, first caught like a deer in headlights, then almost shy, a word youâd never once use to describe the man youâd come to know as your dadâs best friend.
An even more pervy part of yourself, the same one that hopes he thinks of fucking you when he fucks his recent purchase, slowly rolls her hips into the stool. Itâs imperceptible, not something that has a chance of being picked up by the camera. You grind your clothed, needy pussy onto the pink vinyl cover, smothering a whimper into your fist. The seam of your shorts catches on your clit, snuggled between your folds. Your arousal clings to the gusset of your drenched panties. Pleasure spools in your stomach, winding around your cunt and spine.Â
You curl in on yourself, burying your head into your folded arms and panting as you grind on the stool. You let yourself pretend itâs Joelâs lap; the mound-like shape of the foam beneath isnât at all close to what Joelâs bulge must feel like, but with every press of your hips, it matters less and less.
The taboo of it all, knowing youâll have to go into the security system and delete the footage once youâre done soaking the vinyl, being in view of the unlocked door, is doing just as much for you as your vibrator back home would. So much so that with your head tipped low, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips canting back and forth, you donât even notice the rusted rasp of the bell above the door.
You donât notice a damn thing until a strangled sound comes from the front of the store.
Your head snaps up so fast that you go toppling off of the back of the chair, just barely able to catch and prop yourself up on a shelf behind the counter. An embarrassed cough knocks its way out of your gut. Too taboo. Youâre still panting when youâre stricken by a passing thought: youâre definitely going to lose your job, the last one this part of Austin seemed to have to offer. Shit.
Your dignity on the other hand is long gone, somewhere in the smear of arousal you left on the stool. âSorry â fuck! Iâm sorry,â you blurt out in a last-ditch effort to keep your job, fingers crossed that itâs someone who understands or at least doesnât care.
When you look up, you get none of that. For the second time this week, you get Joel Miller. Joel Miller with his messed up hair and work-worn hands, slack jaw and rapid blinking.
You must be matching his expression now, mouth opening and closing with your eyes widened in the ultimate form of disbelief. Your head bows and your chin meets your chest. Apparently it wasnât enough for your dadâs best friend to buy a fleshlight from you. He also had to find you getting off in public.Â
âJoel, shit, Iâm so sorry,â you start, planting the heels of your palms on your temples. Your legs feel weak, a death sentence with your sluggish, blistering heartbeat. Joelâs silence bears down on you, an inescapable weight, and youâre talking before you can stop yourself. âIâ Iâve just been so pent upâŚâ Cheeks burning from the inside out, you scrub your hands from your forehead to your chin.
âShut up,â Joel says stiffly. A wince cleaves its way out of your body.
Another apology sits on your tongue. âIâm s-â
He cuts in, âKnock it off,â and thatâs when your eyes drift lower. Below his belt buckle, but not much further. How could you look any lower when his cock is rock fucking hard in his jeans, fighting against the denim? You whimper, unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together. âJesus, are you in fuckinâ heat?â Joel snaps.
It doesnât achieve the desired effect â you just let out another whimper, your arousal still clinging to your thighs. âJoel, please.â
Joel pinches his nose bridge. He shakes his head, dissolving into a muttered swear under his breath. âNo, hun. Not gonna end up balls deep in my buddyâs little girl, even if you beg real pretty for me.â
âWhy not,â you practically whine, pushing off of the shelf and walking closer to him. He only folds his arms over his broad chest as if to keep you away.
His voice is strained. âBabyââ Your heart flutters. âCanât do that to your dad. Youâre just houndinâ after a poundinâ, ainât ya?â
âI am,â you huff, brain clouded by the arousal thatâs currently casting a shadow through all of your being. âPlease, I havenât come in days.â
Joel hisses at that like heâs in pain. He shakes his head again, much faster. Thereâs a line of remorse pressed between his brows, but itâs far overpowered by the pressure of his cock pulling his jeans taut. âYour little âmassagerâ quit on you, sweetheart?â
You bite your lip. Right on the money. âHowâd you know?â
âCame in for⌠somethinâ... the other day. Heard you fussinâ about it to your co-worker.â He shrugs.
Youâre burning up, a match struck against the gritty concrete of Joelâs voice. It doesnât matter that heâs a customer, doesnât even matter that heâs buddies with your dad. You just want him to replace your aimlessly working fingers at night. You want release, and you want it with him. Begging wonât get you there with Joel, youâre realizing, even if all you want is to get on your knees and cry for his cock. You need to rile him up until he breaks. âNeeded another pocket pussy to put your dick in?â you tease.
âWatch yourself,â Joel says. âYou really that cock starved, darlinâ, that youâd beg your daddyâs friend to stick it to ya?â
âYouâre one to talk,â you smirk. âWhat is it you said? A bit dry lately, right?â
âI clearly got more self control than you, hun.â
You say, âNah.â Your smirk widens, and you take another dangerous step towards him. âYouâre hard as a rock, Joel Miller. Bet you were thinking about sticking it to me all along. Thatâs why you came back, huh? Get another glimpse of me for your spank ban-â
Joel seals the distance between you two, fist going to curl up around your jaw and squeezing. Your mouth pops open, a choked whimper dislodging from your lips. âYou got batteries behind that register?â He asks, voice stern. His eyes are all pupil, plunged into black. You struggle to nod in his grasp. âGrab âem.â
He leaves you standing in front of the door, buzzing with nervous energy as he walks towards the vibrator section. Your stomach does what feels like ten cartwheels in a row. You lean over to the door, flipping the sign to closed and drawing the curtain shut before practically jogging to the batteries.
You grab the type your beloved wand takes, not even concerned with cashing him out before heâs in front of you again, slicing into the box with his truck keys. You slide the batteries over, and heâs peeling apart the plastic to expose your favorite pink wand, armed with six different settings that never fail to make you come. You only notice youâre rubbing your thighs together again when he gives you a sharp look while heâs popping the batteries into the proper compartment.
He pats the counter. âUp.â You hop up, maybe too eager, your eyes big and needy. Joel grabs you by the shoulder and leans you back, starting to work on the button of your jeans. âThis is how this is gonna go,â he says, voice hardened with an order. âYou want me to stop, say so. Iâm gonna put this wand on your achy little clit, gonna make you feel better, because you ainât slutty enough to be humpinâ a chair.â You nod so fast that youâre surprised your head doesnât fall off. âNot gonna give you my cock, got it?â
âG-got it,â you get out shakily. He taps your hip, and you arch off of the counter so that he can yank your jeans and panties down, leaving you spread out and exposed.
 Joel spreads you with his pointer and middle finger. âShoot, baby, you poor thing.â He runs a thumb through your seam, thumb coming up sticky with your wetness. âDrippinâ like a faucet.â He brings his thumb up to the corner of your lips, and you greedily take it into your mouth, tasting your musk off of his callouses.
âThatâs it, suck it like a good slut,â he coaxes as you run your tongue along his skin. He pulls away with a pop and weighs the wand in his hand. Flicking one of the buttons with his freshly-sucked thumb, the toy whirrs to life and thrums in his large hand.
You squirm below him and his intense gaze, gripping the edge of the counter for any semblance of purchase you can get. Without warning, he places the toy down onto your clit. Your vision crackles black at the edges as you cry out. You writhe underneath him, hips helplessly bucking. Joel laughs, the bastard that he is, and rolls it along your sensitive nub. It moves freely with the help of your wetness, and even on the lowest setting, itâs more than you thought it would be.
It helps that Joelâs the one using it on you, knowing just went to add extra pressure and lift up, and it also helps that youâve been untouched by even yourself for the majority of the last week. You push your palms down on the counter and desperately grind your hips against the wandâs head. Your head lolls back, the neon signs on the wall behind you shining on your sweat-slick skin.Â
Joel flicks between two of the settings, a constant push and pull between low and a little higher, the sort of sensation that has your stomach stirring. âThat feel good, hun? Better than rubbinâ this needy pussy on that stool, I bet.â You let out a pitchy sound of half-disagreement, half-pleasure in response, managing to push yourself up on shaking elbows to get a good look at him. Heâs still hard, if not more than heâd already been, rolling the wand in easy motions against you. âShh, itâs okay, baby. Not a bad thing that you only think with your cunt. âS cute,â he coos at you. His words make you gush.
âM-more,â you rasp, hips stuttering. You crave more, more of him, even though heâs already denied you that much. Thereâs a supernova of need flaring inside of you, enough to crack your lips into a ragged moan. Your cunt tightens, squeezing out more of your arousal. You crave him inside of you, buried deep and rolling his hips into you. âJoel, I need â need your cock.â
He turns it up, notches it to a faster pace that engraves pleasure onto your swollen clit. âNo you fuckinâ donât. Quit your mealy mouthinâ and take what I give you. You were âbout to spray your whore cum all over that chair, this should be more than enough.â Joel punctuates his sentences with hard jabs of the wand against you, drawing pathetic moans from your chest.
âJ-J-Joel! Fuck!â
âJ-J-Joel,â he mocks above you, shaking his head. His dark hair flops around with the movements and his tongue sneaks out to lick his lips while he watches you quiver below. âYeah, youâre in heat alright.â Joelâs hand goes to the hem of your shirt and yanks it up, and your trembling hands help him lower the cups of your bra so he can grab and knead your tits.
His thumb circles your nipple when he turns it up to the highest setting, the one that makes your clit go numb and your back arch. You hardly have time to choke out, âCl-close!â before Joel rubs the wand just right.
As your orgasm soars through you, you can hear him saying Attagirl, give it to me, so pretty when you come through the veil of your hearingâs fuzziness. You whimper, still rolling your hips as your fingers clamp around his over your tit, and he rubs circles into your palm while you ride it out. âThatâs it,â he says when you come down fully, starting to shiver away from the pressure of the vibrator. He lowers it until it stalls in his hand and sets it down on the packaging.
âGood?â he asks, reaching up to stroke your cheek.
âGood,â you nod with a tiny little sigh.
You manage to haul yourself up fully onto your elbows, thighs still trembling. When you look him up and down, you notice two things: thereâs the tiny etching of guilt in his eyes, but his cock is definitely still hard. Joel breathes out your name when you reach for him, cupping his sizable bulge through his pants. He hisses. âCanât be doinâ that, baby.â
âWhy?â you ask, lips contorted into a pout. âBecause youâre scared youâll bend me over and fuck me?â You feel his cock twitch under your hand. His resolve is breaking, and youâre loving it. âJust the tip, Joel.â
He winces from your words, but he looks at you, right down to your still-dripping cunt where your release trickles down your inner thighs and your seam. When you spread yourself out for him like he had done and run your finger tip along your opening, that seems to be the last straw. Joel curses under his breath and g0es to make quick work of undoing his belt with one hand, his other still holding yours. âJuâ just the tip,â he reiterates, voice stony.Â
Joel pulls himself free, groaning when his cock springs up. A noise of surprise catches in your throat when you see him in full. Heâs even bigger than he looked in his jeans â which you had no idea was possible. âDonât worry, darlinâ. Just gonna give you the tip, remember?â
âYeah,â you exhale on a shaky breath.
Despite his insistence, he still reaches out for the condom display next to you, already popping a box open. You grab his wrist urgently, shaking your head. âDonât need one. Want â want you like this.â
âWe shouldnât,â he says, still holding the box. âI mean, hun, this joint is literally called Condom Sense. Oughta have some, shouldnât we?â
âDonât care.â You gather some of your cum on your fingertips, wrapping them around his head so you can brush over his slit. His hips jump, a dead giveaway to what his answer will be.
He grunts, tossing the box somewhere off to the side. âYou protected? Clean?â You nod, victorious. âAlright,â Joel sighs. Apparently coming all over his fleshlight isnât enough, because Joel bends over the counter and dips his head to press his lips against your clit, kissing before he sucks gently on it. You yelp, but quickly feel that heat returning and sparking in your core. He licks at your entrance, swirling his tongue around. âTaste fuckinâ delicious, baby.â You have a feeling he isnât prepping you for the tip anymore, even more so when he pulls back to feed your cunt two of his fingers.
You whine, desperately rolling your hips down against his thick fingers, fucking yourself down on him as he opens you up properly. He curls his fingers, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you. Your stomach twitches. âThat it?â
âMhm,â you whine, and he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, always sure to brush your g-spot. The heel of his palm slaps against your clit and you whine, looking at where his fingers fuck into you. Itâs an obscene view, his knuckles drenched in your juices while you clench down around him.
âGood girl,â he sighs when he finally pulls his fingers from you. He gets a good grip on his cock, rubbing the head through your slippery, sensitive folds. He coats it in your arousal before notching it at your opening. When he pushes in, he stays true to his word so far, but the tip is enough to make the room spin all over again. You squeeze down on him and he groans a rough, âFuck. So goddamn tight.â
His words make you clench again, and his head tips to meet your shoulder blade, body poised at an awkward angle while he fights to stay at least partially outside of you. âDidnât expect you to feel this fuckinâ good, sweetheart. So fuckinâ... good.â He gives you shallow thrusts with the tip, just barely enough to slip in and out of you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as if trying to keep himself quiet, trying to steel himself into remembering who heâs on top of and who he just made come.Â
âJoel,â you whine, carding a hand through his hair and tugging lightly until he brings his eyes on you. âFuck me.â
For once that night, itâs enough. With his eyes on you, he eases into you, groaning with every inch he gives you until heâs bottomed out in your cunt. With all of Joelâs prepping, thereâs no pain, only the fullness of what itâs like to throb around him, to leak down his cock. Your fist tightens in his hair when he pulls out of you only to slam back into you. You look down where his body almost covers yours, and through your silhouettes, you can see the stretch of your arousal sticking to his happy trail, stretching between your skin. The room does spin, now, a blur of pink and pleasure.
Joel says, nipping at your ear, âThis what you wanted? Wanted me to stretch you out, make you take my cock like the whore you are?â He rolls his hips into yours and effortlessly finds your g-spot like before. Your legs scramble for purchase, wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. His happy trail, spattered with your arousal, rubs against your clit. You grind your hips down, dig your nails into his biceps, desperate to meet his thrusts. When you donât respond, he pinches your nipple, and your legs wind even tighter around him in surprise.
âYes! Wanted it â wanted it when you first walked in, fuck,â you whine.
Joel smirks into the place between your shoulder and neck, kissing up the expanse of your skin. âHorny little girl. Bet you went home so excited to put that wand on your pretty clit, only to find out it quit on ya.â You can only moan, boneless and foggy underneath him as he rocks his hips into you. âFucked my fleshlight thinkinâ of you, but I bet you already knew that, didnât you? Wanted to bounce you on my cock so bad. Fuckinâ choking me like I knew you would.â
âFuck me like you fucked it, then,â you say in a rush, your whimpers still poking through your sentences. âH-hard, Joel, want it rough.â
Joel grunts, twitching inside of you from your request. âShit, canât say no to ya. Gotta have⌠gotta have a goddamn death wish or somethinâ, baby.â With that, he finds a punishing, ravenous pace, the filthy noises of his body slapping against yours filling the store from wall to wall. He grins. âBut you like it, dirty girl. Can feel ya gettinâ close. Câmon, gimme another, baby.â
You come with a cry, soaking his cock, eyes watering from relief while you grip him. Warmth seeps into your bones and turns your brain to mush, electric from dopamine. You go limp on the ledge while he continues fucking into you, voice filling your ears, âThatâs it, thatâs my girl, fuuuuck, way better than that fleshlight. Shoulda bent you over the counter and fucked you that first night.â You moan at the thought, pussy still clenching his cock.Â
Youâre too busy coming to notice him reaching to the side, retrieving the long-forgotten wand. You could scream when he touches it to your clit again on the medium setting, and then your thighs are shaking around him even stronger and youâre coming for the third time that night, launched from one orgasm straight into another with Joel hovering over you, still fucking into you. âFuck, again?â he asks, voice layered with disbelief. âSuch a messy pussy, baby. Drippinâ down my thighs. Gonna make it even messier, pump you full âa my cum, sweet girl.â
Your vision whites, palms slapping on the counter before he wraps his hand back in yours like before to ground you. You squeeze his hand and moan in response. He turns the vibrator back to low and keeps rolling his hips into you. âClose, baby, gonna shoot this load up your pretty pussy.â Joelâs forehead drops to the counter, still mouthing at your neck when you feel him jerk inside of you. You feel the warmth of his cum spill into you while you still flutter around him, his debauched moans filling your ear as he empties himself into your cunt.
Both of you are breathing heavily by the time he pulls away from you, you laying down on the counter and staring at the ceiling tiles. Theyâre unfocused and blurry in your post-orgasmic bliss. You blink yourself back to reality, giving him a look with your hooded, tired eyes. His chest rises and falls, mouth and softening cock smeared with your cum. Heâs looking at you with the same eyes youâre giving him, something crossed between incredulity and shamelessness.
Joel fishes around in his back pocket before finding a red flannel handkerchief, which heâs careful to dab at your inner legs. Youâre both silent until he separates from you with a peck to your forehead. âDid good for me. Youâre, uh⌠really somethinâ, sweetheart.â
You grin at him. âThat mean this is gonna happen again?â You ask as he tucks himself away and buckles his belt. You stuff your tits back in your bra, pulling down your shirt and securing your pants and shoes from where theyâd long fallen into piles on the floor.
âDonât jump the gun, baby.â He rubs the back of his neck and licks his lips. âBut I ainât rulinâ it out.â
A cocky smirk tugs at your lips, and you hop fully off of the counter, tugging your jeans up your waist. Joel taps the vibrator box when youâre all done. âCash me out?â he asks, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket and grabbing his wallet instead.
You nod, scanning the damaged vibrator box and batteries and reading off his total. You bag up the soaked vibrator, the on-the-house toy cleaner, and the rest of the batteries heâd bought. âHere you go,â you say, holding it out for him.
âNah, hun. Thatâs for you. What use am I gonna get out of a vibrator unless itâs makinâ you come?â He pats the back of your hand and slides the bag across to you again.
You stare at him, fighting not to let your jaw loosen. âJoel⌠thatâs a lot of money.â
âAnd you deserve to come as much as you want, got it, pretty girl?â He smiles at you with a shrug as if he hadnât just wrung three out of you within an hour. âBesides, you have my number. You know who to ask if you ever need someone to talk you through it.â
You choke, nodding dumbly at his proposition. So definitely not ruled out.
âThank you,â you say, bringing yourself to match his smile.
He gives your hand a squeeze and says, âSee you later, sweetheart,â before heading out.
And sure, this entire thing is a tornado that could toss up your life like a trailer park, but for Joel? Youâd let it happen.
#vetty's words đ˘đ¸#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller/reader#joel miller/f! reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
meet jensen ackles, your regular hollywood washup who weaseled his way back into your father's life after ghosting him for twenty years. to be fair, he had a career he was trying to pursue! a man with many dreams and wasted talent, jensen has a handful of bad habits keeping from reaching the potential that everyone in his life reminded him that he was abandoning. this comes as no surprise, though, considering he's only ever existed in your mind as a warning story; never a face or presence to connect the name to, just the foreboding tales of his mistakes in college. don't be like jensen, your father would warn . . . but he never warned you about liking jensen.
trigger warnings for : hefty age gap ( 20s & 40s ) | sexual content š | alcohol usage & ab/se | drug usage & ab/se ² | addiction Âł | emotional manipulation & unavailability | unhealthy coping mechanisms | (updated frequently!) + lmk if i need to add anything! š ă
¤ unprotected p in v | oral f & m receiving | choking kink | daddy kink | spit kink | semi - public sex | public sex | manhandling | creampie | (updated frequently!) THIS WORK IS NOT SAFE FOR MINORS. ² ă
¤ only scenes with weed are going to be described in detail | harder drugs are eluded to or mentioned by name | not romanticized | please read with caution / don't read if these are triggers for you! your mental health & general health matters <3 Âł ă
¤ not romanticized | discussions of addiction struggle / relapse | please read with caution / don't read if these are triggers for you! your mental health & general health matters <3
sneak into his room? YES | NO

navigate the trigger warnings by which title has the aforementioned number by it !
part one - friend from college š your dad's estranged best friend from college, jensen, comes back into his life to find you, his daughter, as an unexpected factor in it.
part two - swallow the smoke ² it wasn't supposed to be more than a one-time thing. a little slip in your judgment. but jensen seems to have taken more of a liking to you than he thought.
part three - bite the pillow š the last two days with jensen are going to be torturous if he keeps giving you those eyes across the room, right under your dad's nose.
part four - hide away the signs š jensen says goodbye, but he's not going without a taste, and definitely not without a way and a promise to see you again.
ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤ă
¤reply with â if you want added to the taglist ! <3
#dahlia's â journal#dad's best friend!jensen#best friendâs daughter!reader#jensen ackles au#jensen ackles#jensen fucking ackles#jensen ackles series#jensen ackles angst#jensen ackles smut#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles x you
592 notes
¡
View notes