#pedro pascal character

[andy-15-07]

Hello Andy, could you write a oneshot about Joel Miller and female reader who reunites after years of being separated?

Like these two had known each other before the outbreak, and the reader was pregnant during that time. So when they meet again, her child, dosen’t matter which gender it is. They are currently around their early twenties.

Joel can't help but to feel envious, maybe a bit bitter at times at the idea that the reader's child got to live whilst Sarah didn't. He knows it's dumb, but he can't help it, especially with how the reader's offspring tends to be selfless and reckless. Like her offspring will stand up and keep going even if they have a deep wound on their legs.

Still Here

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1201| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Joel Miller Masterlist

You never expected to see Joel Miller again.

Not after the world fell. Not after everything burned and died and turned to ash, and people you loved became names you whispered to the dark.

But there he was,leaning against a broken gate at Jackson, shoulders heavy, hair peppered with gray, eyes scanning faces like maybe he’d forgotten what he was even hoping to find.

You saw him before he saw you. That old ache bloomed in your chest like it never left. Joel. The man you’d loved before everything changed. The one who’d kissed your cheek the night before the outbreak, resting his hand on your stomach as if he already knew how precious that little life would become.

You’d been two months pregnant. You never got the chance to tell him.

Now, more than twenty years later, your child,your son, Jesse,was grown. Twenty-one. Stubborn as hell, all heart and fists, the kind of person who’d take a bullet for a stranger and smile through the pain.

Just like Joel.

And Joel… Joel had lost everything.

When his eyes finally landed on you, the world tilted. His mouth parted. His face crumpled, just for a second, before he blinked it away.

“…You,” he rasped. “You’re alive.”

You nodded, a hand pressed to your ribs to keep your heart inside. “Yeah. Still kicking.”

Joel stared. “You look… You look the same.”

You wanted to laugh. Instead, you said, “You don’t.”

He huffed, shoulders relaxing just slightly. “Fair.”

There was so much more you wanted to say. But it wasn’t until he stepped closer, until you caught the flicker of hope in his eyes, that you knew you’d been waiting for this moment,aching for it,for longer than you admitted.

“I didn’t know where you went,” you whispered. “I looked for you. I tried.”

“I thought you were dead,” he said, voice rough. “When everything went to hell… I couldn’t find you. I lost,”

He stopped himself. Swallowed.

“I know,” you said gently. “Me too.”

---

Joel stayed.

Not just for the night, not just for the week. He stayed, like someone who didn’t know how to leave anymore.

You didn’t push him. You let him come to you slowly. You let him talk when he was ready,and when he told you about Sarah, you listened with everything you had.

He said her name like a prayer.

“She was smart,” he told you once, his voice cracking. “Kind. Funny as hell. I keep thinkin’… if the world hadn’t gone to shit, she’d probably be doin’ somethin’ amazing right now.”

“I’m sure she would’ve,” you said, brushing a hand across his. “She had you for a father.”

Joel didn’t answer. Just held your fingers like he was trying not to fall apart.

---

The first time he saw Jesse up close was when your son limped into the Jackson gate after a patrol,shirt torn, jeans soaked with blood, a gash running up his leg.

You were already moving toward him with panic tightening your spine, but Jesse waved you off. “It’s fine. It looks worse than it is.”

“You’re bleeding through your damn pants,” you said, clutching his face. “What happened?”

Jesse shrugged. “Wasn’t gonna let them take Mia. She froze up and they had a knife.”

You stared at him. “So you got stabbed?”

“Barely,” Jesse said, leaning on one foot. “Besides, I got a few good swings in.”

Joel was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move. But something in his face flickered. A twist of pain,raw and familiar,tightened his features.

He watched Jesse like he couldn’t breathe.

Later, when your son was being stitched up by the medic, Joel sat beside you on the porch of your small house, staring out at the street.

“He’s brave,” he muttered.

“Too brave sometimes.”

Joel was quiet for a long moment. “He don’t care if he dies, does he?”

You looked at him. “He does. He just… he cares about other people more.”

Joel shook his head, something bitter curling his mouth. “It’s like lookin’ at a ghost.”

You swallowed. “Sarah?”

He nodded, barely. “She was like that. Always helpin’ other people. Always standin’ up when she should’ve stayed down.”

You put a hand on his arm. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “It is when it gets ‘em killed.”

You exhaled. “Jesse’s alive.”

“Yeah.” His voice dropped. “And mine ain’t.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You couldn’t say anything. Because he wasn’t wrong,grief never made space for reason. It just was.

“I see him,” Joel said, almost to himself. “I see him bein’ reckless and strong and tryin’ to be the goddamn hero and I,I get so angry sometimes. Not at him. But at the fact that he’s still here. And she ain’t.”

You turned to face him fully, your voice low. “Do you want me to tell him?”

Joel looked at you, startled. “What?”

“Do you want me to tell Jesse the truth? That you’re his father?”

He froze.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

“He’d want to know.”

Joel looked down at his hands. “He’d hate me.”

“He wouldn’t,” you said. “He’s your son, Joel. He’s a piece of you.”

Joel’s eyes were glassy. “I already failed one kid.”

“And you survived it. Barely. But you did. And now you’ve got another chance.”

He didn’t answer.

But a week later, Jesse came home from a patrol and found Joel waiting on the porch.

You stood back and watched from inside, heart racing as the man who loved you and the boy you raised faced each other in silence.

“I need to tell you somethin’,” Joel said, voice steady. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

Jesse frowned. “What’s going on?”

Joel swallowed. “I’m your dad.”

Silence.

“I knew your mom before all this,” he continued. “Long before. We… we were together. She didn’t get the chance to tell me about you before the world went to hell. I didn’t know. And I ain’t tryin’ to take the place of the people who helped raise you. But I,if you want,I’d like to be in your life.”

Jesse stared at him for a long moment. His face unreadable.

Then, with a half-smile and a cock of his head, he said, “That why you’ve been scowling every time I almost get myself killed?”

Joel blinked. “…Maybe.”

Jesse nodded. “Figured. You’ve got the same pissed-off look my mom gets when I come home bleeding.”

A long pause.

Then Jesse stuck out his hand. “Alright, then. Guess I’ve got a dad now.”

Joel stared at it like it might disappear.

Then, slowly, he reached out and took it.

---

Later that night, Joel came to your door.

You opened it without a word, and he just looked at you,eyes soft, heart open in a way you hadn’t seen in decades.

“You were right,” he said.

You stepped closer. “About what?”

“I still got somethin’ good in this world.”

You smiled, a little broken, a little whole. “Yeah. You do.”

Joel leaned in, forehead resting against yours.

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was quiet. Like breathing. Like coming home.

[dilf-docs]

From This Time, Unchained

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel doesn't know why, of all the people in jackson, you've chosen him.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), BIG age gap (20s/60s) (does it look like igaf), smut, begging kink, praise kink, oral (f. receiving), breast play, dacryphilia, hurt/comfort, soft!joel, insecure!joel, fluff bc my dying man deserves it💔 #joelmillerapologistclub

word count: 8,554 words

side note: joel miller widow club where u at??? i wish i could write a fix-it fic but my heart is too heavy even after a week lol and my ass too people pleaser-ish to write allat. (i haven't seen last night's ep yet bc this weekend has been ass!!) so, instead, have this piece because peepaw deserves love and a good fuck with his glasses on! (shout out to my joel miller playlist, u saved me girl) (also girl why did i battle with this like for four days lmaoooo not me posting it 9 seconds before midnight)

Joel Miller is a busy man.

All of Jackson seems to need him. Be it his neighbours, with a broken faucet or be the council, for his skills in construction, or even Maria and Tommy, when they wanted some time alone and he got to be the fun uncle for a couple of hours. Even Ellie, who didn't need him, as she liked to remind him, yet he still found himself in her garage, where she moved despite his reluctance, dusting off shelves or the forgotten guitar in a corner, all to feel useful for the one who he cared for the most.

That spot was debatable, thought. There was his brother, his niece, maybe Maria, Ellie, recently Dina and well, you.

You. Sweet you. Town's favorite girl. A complete dream. The girl next door embodied. Looks that aim to kill. It killed him. So damn perfect he can't help but wonder why, of all Jackson, you'd choose brooding old Joel Miller.

The one you'd give your smiles to, because even if you shared it to the world, your reserved your best for him only. His patrol partner, the beauty of the snowed-in landscape barely rivaling your own. Who you'd give your hours, always appearing when he needed you most, eyes open wide with that shine of theirs it was impossible to resist, not to trust. He had been a faithless man for too long, wandering in the dark. Eyes closed. Then came Ellie, and it was gone, coming back the days when Sarah was his babygirl. But it returned when she pushed him away, but you had stepped in, not as a replacement but as an oath. Something to hold on.

To believe.

In anything. In you. In the us, silent but strong. Watchful, like the stars shinning above in the sky, twinkling as the sound of your laugh when you and him would watch them, sitting on his roof. He let this things happen, let his guard down and allowed himself to be childish and soft, even if his joints ached when he got up and he could fall. But you were there, and falling... It didn't sound bad.

(He knew you'd be there to catch him, anyway. Even if you weren't that strong and he wasn't exactly... well, featherweight)

Right now, he's working. Not for Jackson, but or you. Furrowed brow and shoulders slumped over his table at the workshop, concentrated, his glasses perched on his nose. He hates them, another reminder of the time passed by, yet there's no option. At least not if he wants to give you the very best.

Ah, yes. His latest project. A little wood carving. Doesn't have a shape yet, like your relationship. He chuckles to himself, feeling silly. What where labels anymore in this world, anyway? Still, he can't fanthom the nature of it. It sounded more like a perverted old man's fantasy, if he's being honest, the glances thrown his way from townsfolk a little cruel reminder. You're no good, you'd jokingly sing that one song and, despite the judgment, he'd smile. For you, anything.

Like the figurine. Joel finally sees it take shape. And then there's a knock in the door. Sharp. Same as yesterday, and as the year before ever since he's had you like this.

"Come in" he says, not looking up as you enter.

He's too focused, voice sounding gruff for the long hours of silence since he sat down with an idea in mind; pounding heart, trembling hands.

"Hey, Joel"

He takes his glasses off, placing them on the table, before standing up to greet you. He crosses the short distance and wraps his arms around you in a tender hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He smells like wood and sweat. His musk lingers, so does his tight embrace. As if you'd dissappear if he didn't.

"Missed ya', sweet girl" he mumbles, voice muffled.

You giggle a bit. "I was gone for an hour. Are you getting clingy on me, Miller?"

You loved to tease him. Bad habit of yours. He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles on his chest and against your skin. He pulls back from the hug, yet his arms now drop to your waist, because he's addicted to keeping you close.

"Too damn long" he protests, carrying his southern accent within.

"I love when that Texan drawl slips in" you sigh, poking his cheek. He leans into your touch, like a touch-starved puppy. You then look at him, pouting your lips with a small frown. "Hey, and your glasses?"

"Huh?" he looks at the pair, sitting on the table. Forgotten. "Over'ere. For?"

You shrug. Joel shoots you a suspicious look. "Darlin', why you so interested in my glasses?"

You avert his gaze. The floor is more interesting now.

"Honey... Look at me. S'okay if you don't wanna-"

"I like how you look when you wear them" you finally blurt out, too fast and too quiet.

He's taken back by that. Eyes wide, probably written all over his face. Yet you refuse to look at him. He tips your chin up, so you can meet his gaze. It's soft, making your legs wobbly.

"Is that so?" he asks, teasingly. He still can't believe you actually like them. "You like when old men wear them glasses, baby?"

"Hhm, yeah" you hum. "More if it's you"

His heart skips a beat at your response. Fuck. He's gone soft, too soft. He feels his face heat up, chuckling in an attempt to cover it. Then, runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the base of his neck, a tell-tale sign he's feeling awkward. Flustered, even.

"You gon' give me a heart attack, honey. 'M too old for ya' to say things like that"

"Aw, old man can't take a compliment?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. Then, you stand up on your tiptoes to whisper on his ear. "You're cute when you blush"

Joel's sure his face has gone redder, breath hitching as well. Still, he manages to put his arms around your waist, holding you close.

"You're real bad" he grumbles, though there's no bite on his tone. He hides his face again in the crook of your neck. "And I'm not blushing"

You giggle, patting his head lightly as your fingers trace his now long hair. If it didn't drive you wild...

"Then stop hiding"

Joel relaxes under your touch. "You're trouble. I'm serious 'bout the heart attack"

"No" you exaggerate, rocking him slightly. "Don't die"

He looks up at you, smirking as he groans with fake annoyance.

"If you keep that up, I might do"

"Then who will I bore with my failed recipes and gossip?"

"Thankfully, not me"

You groan. "Oh, shut up you old man"

You're always calling him that. Not that he minds, he knows you're not doing it with malice, but sometimes it annoys him. For example, today.

"Well, you chose 'tis old man so don't go complainin', honey"

You huff. "Unfortunately, I love this old man with his old-man ways. Like your woodcarving"

After saying so, you take a small peek over his figure, still drapped over your chest and neck, to the table behind. "Speaking of, can I see what you're doing?"

He looks back, where he's left the figurine unnattended after your arrival. Lets go of you, taking a step back so you get a better look.

"Sure, darlin'. Go'head"

Joel thinks he's good at hiding the nervousness in his voice as you approach the table. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, anxiously.

"Your glasses" almost in a reflex, passing them to him before seeing what's on the table. "Can you wear them, Joel? Pretty please"

He takes the glasses from your hands, fingers brushing. It may be that or your request that make his heart jump. You can see some hesitation on him before he puts them on. Looking down at you, smirking, Joel smiles.

"There ya' go, sweet girl. Happy now?" he asks, a hint of huskiness in his voice.

"So much better" you tap them lightly, "and so is your vision"

Joel let's out a small chuckle, grinning like a fool. Honestly, he loves the attention.

(He's never going to admit it out loud, though)

"You do know how'da flatter an old man, huh"

You smirk, moving to the table again. "Oh, I love flattering him. Now, show me what you're working on"

There's a block of wood on the center. Cut sharp. Perfectly. He's been obssesive with it, maybe. There's a sketch, and the figurine only has been carved at the bottom, where a tail begins to take shape.

"I know am not an artist, but I tried"

You remain silent, making him a little nervous.

"S'a deer" he explains, gruffly, looking into your eyes for a reaction.

"A deer? Like, Bambi?" you ask in awe, softly tracing the wood. Your words get stuck, like honey. Sweet but sticky. "Joel..."

His heart swells a bit at your tone, expression soft as he recognizes admiration in your tone.

"Yeah, like damn Bambi" he murmurs, hands itchy. First, he shoves them on his pockets, just to take them out and place them on his hips instead, his jacket now open, the silhoutte of his tummy under his shirt showing, the flannel stretched on the middle. He watches you closel as you face him again.

"Is it- Is it for me?" you ask in that voice that, goddamn it, makes Joel want to give you the whole world if he could.

He slowly nods, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah" he admits, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "S' for ya"

Then looks away, feeling vulnerable for some reason. But your lips quiver, and before he can register, you throw yourself at him, hands around his neck, body practically swinging. He stumbles a bit, yet manages to catch you alright.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you gush, peppering his cheek with kisses. "I know it's not even done but, wow. Thank you, Joel!" an adorable squeal leaves your mouth, and as soon as that is out, your lips find his to leave a sweet kiss on his mouth. When you calm down, your voice goes soft. "It's... No one had ever done something like this for me"

He's clearly taken by surprise by your affection outburst, his heart swelling at your reaction and giddyness. He's also a bit overwhelmed, kissed cheeks now a pretty flushed pink. There's something so warm and fond on his eyes as he looks down on you, cupping your cheek after your final kiss.

"S'nothin', sweet girl. You're welcome"

"You're so special, Joel. Did you know that?" you whisper, leaning into his touch while closing your eyes.

Good. He's probably a mess right now, his heart clenching on his chest, a mix of emotions washing over him. God, he hates getting compliments, but yours always stirred things he long ago thought dead.

"Special, huh?" he grumbles while sporting a half-smile. "I reckon that's you"

You smirk. "We can both be special, then. There's always room for two"

He runs his thumb over your cheek, chuckling a bit. "Deal. But you're a bit more"

"Oh, you want to compete?" you tease.

He smirks at the challenge, pulling you closer with a tight arm around your waist.

"Damn right I do. Y'know I like winnin'. 'Sides, 'm more than willin' to play if it means ya' get competitive 's well. You're cute when you challenge me, baby"

You feign hurt. "I'm always cute, how dare you"

"Oh, forgive me" he chuckles. "At this age I tend to forget"

"Don't worry. I'll beat your ass so bad, you won't forget it"

He archs an eyebrow, amused. "Now you abuse the elder? Bad girl"

Your face flushes and core pulses.

"I can be a bit of a brat if I want to" you tease, fingers roaming over his warm chest. "Will you punish me for that?"

Joel's eyes darken on an instant. There's a shadow of desire coating his brown when a low rumble escapes his throat. The air feels charged with a new found tension suddenly.

"Careful, sweet girl. You ain't know what you playin'"

He closes the gap between you, his body pressing against yours. His hands move from your waist to grip your hips, holding you against him.

"You're quite mouthy tonight, aren't 'cha?" he growls, his voice carrying a rough edge.

"Just to get what I want. Besides, your little project tug at my hearstrings" you quip. "And something else"

"Oh, yeah? You gon' tell me what's that?"

You smirk. "What do you think it is?"

He hums. "I'd rather hear you say it"

"That's not fair" you pout your lips.

He chuckles, "Nothin' ever is fair, I reckon. But you're a troublesome little thing, ain't ya'?"

You send him a little flirtatious wink.

"I am looking for some trouble tonight"

He's not amused by your words. You're a greedy insatiable little thing sometimes. So far, Joel's been able to deflect all of your attempts. The farthest you'd ever made it was when you straddled his lap on the old couch of his workshop, and even then, he limited his reactions to grunts and seeing you come. God. It had been tortuous waiting for you to go so he could piston his aching cock to the memory of your little sounds.

"Ain't that interesting?"

"Oh, but it is" you're quick to counter, "and I take you and your little friend are into it"

His breath hitches, eyes and cheeks burning alike with intensity. The heat travels down his spine, straight to his throbbing dick, the reason he's been caught red-handed.

"You surely are looking for trouble" his voice reduced to a rough gasp.

Joel's struggling to maintain the control he so prided himself in, you not making it any easier with your teasing. "Y'a temptress, doll. Know that?"

"Is my magic working?" you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He's resolve is quickly crumbling, self-control tossed to the bin in the corner. Joel loves as much as he hates your big innocent yet teasing eyes. No wonder he was carving you out a deer.

"Damnit, sweet girl. Y'know it's. You gettin' me all worked up in'ere"

"Take me upstairs, then. I'm sure we can find a solution"

He can feel the heat radiating off of you, eyes darkening at the invitation.

"Doll, you're playing with fire here" he warns, despite the obvious effect your words are having on him.

"It's fine. I don't mind the burn"

He knows he's done, Joel's growl an indicator of his control snapping completely.

"Damn it" he mutters before his lips crash against yours. It's heated. Desperate. His hands grip your hips, holding you tighlty against him while he devours your mouth like a starved man, as if you didn't kiss just this morning, before going on your patrol.

You moan into the kiss, Joel swallowing your sounds as if they were his own. Fuck. His mind goes fuzzy when you grab his face with both of your hands, deepening the kiss. He thinks he's backed you against a wall, by the small Thud sound. He's lost: on the way your lips move, on the way they taste, in the sounds they make.

You pull out first. Joel thinks you belong in a museum: with your lips, swollen and parted. It's too your dilatated eyes and chest, rising and falling. He can't resist and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers tenderly brushing your soft skin.

"Aren't you the prettiest man in Jackson?" you blurt out, adoring.

He's not used to being praised like this. Not even by you, even after months of doing so. Always feels like the first time. And then, he feels stupid: for blushing too much, heart skipping too many beats, chest clenching too hard. Like a damn highschooler. Joel's as embarrassed as content that you make him feel all sort of ways.

"Easy, sugar" he mutters, voice gruff. "You gon' give 'tis old man an ego"

"No need to blame me when you can look at yourself in the mirror" you're quick to reply. "I believe that's enough reason to give you some ego"

He's smirking at your response. Yeah, he definitely loves when you stroke his ego. Especially as of late, where he feels... rather, old.

"Oh. Oh" you begin to tease through giggles, playfully hitting his chest. He huffs, catching where this is going. "Do you like it when I call you pretty?"

Joel's cheeks flush a little at your question, his stoic nature faltering a bit at your teasing.

"Maybe" he mumbles, eyes avoiding yours. "But don't let it get to your head, doll"

"Too late" you murmur, wrapping once more your hands on his neck. "You're pretty, Joel. Especially when you flush"

Pretty isn't exactly a word he'd used to describe himself. But when you call him pretty, out of that sweet mouth of yours, his name along as well? You can call him however the fuck you want.

He can feel his body reek out vulnerability, and he hates himself a bit for getting weaker. He tried, really did, but his walls had been down for a while. His defenses had crumbled. He was pathetic, lonely, and sad. Yet here you were, looking at him with your big adoring eyes like he was the only thing that mattered. Joel lets your words sink for a moment, letting out a small sigh, not being able to deny it feels good. Maybe it does matter.

"You're too damn sweet, sugar. Y'know that?" he mutters, finger tracing lightly your hip.

You smile, sickenly saccharine. "I'm aware. Trust me, I have a cute grumpy boyfriend to remind me so"

His expression softens even more at your easy loving. He's so fucking putty in your hands, Tommy would laugh in his face.

"Y'got me wrapped 'round your damn finger, sweet girl" Joel whispers in his usual gruff voice, but it's laced with affection.

You raise a finger, moving it in front of his face like one would with a bone and a dog.

"You mean this?"

Joel watches your finger with amused eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It scares and excites him how easy it's to fall under your spell. With soft movements, he reaches and captures your hand, bringing it to his mouth. He then presses a gentle kiss to your finger, eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah, doll. This one" his voice is husky, "All of 'em. Y' got me good"

You gulp under the intensity of his gaze. "Don't do that..."

He smirks at your reaction, finally feeling like he has some leverage. He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he holds you even closer, your chest pressing against his. You even feel the soft curve of his stomach over your own.

"Don't do what?" he asks, playing coy. "We're not backin' down now, are we, sugar?"

At your lack of answer, cheeks bright, he huffs, hand moving to gently cup your chin. Joel's brown eyes lock with yours when he speaks again.

"So, what now? Or did y' just come by to check up on your ol' man?"

"No. That's not what I want"

His smirk grows as the dark shade on his eyes. He's not dumb, of course he knows what you want. Just wants to hear you say it.

"What'da ya' want, then?"

You pout your lips, whining.

"Joel... Just give me what I want"

He leans in a bit closer, voice gruff and filled with desire. His thumb strokes your chin softly.

"Depends" he grumbles. "You gon' ask nicely?"

"On my very best behavior" you raise your hand, "I swear it"

He smirks, letting go of your face. "Good girl"

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning against his ear. His heart skips a beat, a small shiver running down his spine at your lips ghosting his skin.

"I am" you kiss his earlobe. "For you. Just you" you leave a little bite on it. A low rumble escapes his throat. You lick the red little spot to soothe it. "Your best girl"

"My only girl" he's quick to reply. You're up in the air in a minute, his hands supporting you as he carries you, your legs dangling at his sides. It amazed you how strong he continued to be, despite his age. Strong men make good times, you suppose.

You giggle a bit. "Oh, Joel. I'm so lucky"

His heart races at your words. All this banter fills him with a warm fondness, making him feel young again.

"I reckon that's me, doll"

Your noses brush after his comment, in silence. You close your eyes, as so does he. You break the aphony first.

"Joel"

"Yes?"

"I want you to have me"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest swelling with a mixture of emotion. No one has ever spoken to him with such tenderness, even with what your request implies. It's overwhelming.

"Ya' want me?" he asks gruffly, his voice hoarse with desire and emotion.

Fuck. It's happening. What he avoided so badly, but right now? His mind has gone blank, and when it starts working again, it's filled with lewd images of sweet you. Jesus. If he had doubts he was going to hell before, now he's certain. At least, he got heaven on Earth with you.

"Y' sure 'bout that, sugar?" he asks gruffly, his voice husky. "You're so damn young, deserve someone better"

You nod, slowly, caressing his cheek, your voice just barely above a whisper.

"I've never been more sure"

He takes a small moment to gather himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He's suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, and it scares him as much as it excites him.

"I mean, would've I done all this if I didn't?"

Joel lets out a small laugh. "You little devious minx. I'll give ya' that"

"Give me what?" you tease.

His lips crash into yours as your hands find his face, holding as you deepen the kiss. His fingers dig in your thighs, making you moan and a spark of electricity run through his spine. He lets out a low moan in response to yours, pulling away from your lips momentarily, his eyes darkening with want. Joel looks at you for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

He lets out a low rumble, his voice gruff and rough.

"Yeah" he mutters. "Keep talkin' like that, and you'll get more than a kiss"

"So, I'll keep talking then"

"Y' little brat" he grumbles, voice dripping with frustration. "If ya' don't stop, I'm gonna..."

Joel trails off, his eyes dark with promises left unspoken.

"Say it" you challenge. "Or are you backing down?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of self control, despite loving your teasing and how it's driving him wild. He lets out a small laugh, his mind swirling with desire and frustration.

"Y' gon' pay for that later, darlin'" he threatens gruffly, his eyes locked on yours.

"How about now?"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your question, the idea sending a surge of desire through him. He can feel his self-control slipping away, your words pushing him closer to the edge.

He lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his hand tightening around your chin. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of desire and anticipation in them.

"Sure you wanna know, doll?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

"All of it" too eager. He can't help but smile, resolve unraveling. "Don't spare any details"

"And you gon' be a good girl?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Didn't I promise so?"

Those simple words are all it takes for Joel's resolve to finally crumble. Fuck what other people think. Fuck his own fears. He can't resist you any longer, the desire within him reaching boiling point.

"Shit, doll" he rasps, voice rough. "With words like that I'm just gon' give y'anythin' you want"

"Please, Joel" you utter his name in a little whimper.

"Please what?"

Loves to see you beg. Has imagined you squirming, like you did when his fingers would drift too close to your aching cunt. Straddling feels so stupid now, when he could've have sweet you like this a long ago.

"Fuck me"

The sound of your whimper goes straight to Joel's throbbing dick. He's completely undone, powerless against your desires.

"That's right, good girl" he rasps, his voice gruff and rough. You let a little whimper at the praise. "I'll give y'anythin' you want, angel"

He carries you upstairs while you giggle at his huffs, teasing him when his knees creak like the old wooden stairs. Still, he insists on carrying you when you offer to walk, maybe trying to prove his strength to you or something. When his face turns a deep shade of red, you can't tell if it's out of shame or effort.

"Taking me to your bed? I've never seen your bedroom" you muse out loud, once he reaches the final stair.

Despite the intensity of the moment, a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"There's always a first" he rasps.

Your nose brushes against his cheek. "Can't wait"

The door opens when Joel kicks it lightly. It's very him, you think, as soon as it comes on view. There's a guitar in the corner, you notice too.

"It's very you" you say out loud now. He drops you on the bed, making you giggle. "It's simple and cozy"

He's still trying to calm his racing heart, but it's difficult when he's hovering over you, so close to your body, he can feel the heat of it. Can even smell your arousal in the air.

"'M not sure simple's a nice thing t' say 'bout someone"

For a moment, the room goes quiet. He hesitates to continue.

"There's just... somethin' I need to discuss with ya' before we get carried 'way"

Your doe eyes look up to him. "Yes?"

Joel takes a deep breath.

"I've... It's been a while, y'know, since... I'm just used to bein' alone. In that sense. And I... I haven't been with someone in a long time"

His voice trails off, a vulnerability settling in his expression.

"Joel..." you whisper, sitting as he backs up a bit.

"'M not good with people" he admits gruffly. "I tend to scare 'em off"

You extend your hand to softly trace over his stubble. Joel leans into your touch, his expression softening, your presence providing a sense of comfort. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You're not scaring me. I'm here"

His mouth tastes like sand when he swallows.

"Yeah, but I-"

"Yes?"

He pauses for a moment, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"'M not exactly young anymore, sugar"

"And what's bad about not being young?" you look at him, voice soft. "Are you afraid your knees will crack when you go down on me or what?"

He lets out a clipped laugh. The tension in the room lightens a little, and he's grateful for your attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh, very funny, sweetheart." he grumbles, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And no, 's not that. I can eat ya' just fine" Joel spits, making you laugh at his cocky demeanor. But then he goes quiet again. "It's just... 'M not as young and good lookin' as I used to be" he finally blurts out.

Why is he even saying this things out loud. He didn't care before. He thought about himself better before. Yeah, before. What is it about the now that he cares, worse, admits out loud his insecurities?

Your expression morphs into one of sympathy. God, he hates it. Looks away from your warmth and pity. No, not pity. Compassion, like Joel was some sort of wounded old dog.

"Joel" you close the distance, tracing his face tenderly, drawing little heart shapes over his stubble. "That's not true. You're as handsome as back in the day, baby. I didn't meet you then, I know that, and this may be biased, but I'll choose the old you always, my pretty boy"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his expression softening even more. He's not used to such tender affection, and it's overwhelming.

He takes a moment to process your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, and it touches him more than he can express. Words were never his thing, anyway.

"Y/n" he mutters gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. He even used your name. "You're too good fo' me"

"I just... I think it's because I love you"

He's taken back, almost falling in top of you, yet quickly regaining his posture. Still, his heart jumps into his throat, dangerously close to falling out from his mouth at your sudden confession.

It's been almost a year of being his and him being yours, yet those three words hadn't even been close to being said. Joel never thought he'd get to hear them again from the lips of a lover. Yet here you were, so damn young and sweet, letting them roll off your tongue in a soft echo of your loving. Safe. Like a home. You were his home.

He looks at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

"Y'... Y' love me?" his voice rasping a bit as he questions you.

"It's okay if you don't say it back" you laugh quietly, probably to make him feel better. Always thinking about the others, you pure thing.

He looks you in the eye, his hand still cupping your cheek. There's a warm tenderness in his expression, despite his gruff tone.

"No. Don't think that" he goes quiet for a moment, as if the weight of your declaration was sinking him. He lets out a shaky breath, as if unsure if the world around him was real, his eyes locked on yours. "I... love you too"

Your eyes widen, a smile appearing instantly on your face as it lights up. His heart swells immediately at the sight of your happiness, and all he wishes for is to see it everyday. When he wakes up, to be first, and when he goes to sleep, your face the last thing to see. To be there, even as he closes his eyes and dozes off to sleep. Your giddy giggles are so fucking contagious, a rebellious smile creeps up his lips.

"You do?"

His chest tightens, vulnerable. Filled with an affection never known before.

"Yeah, sweet girl" he mutters gruffly. "I do. I love you"

Your smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world, pleased and vicious like a cat's.

"Now, if you love me so dearly as you say, please" your lips part in a shaky breath, "have me"

So damn impatient. He may have spoiled you too much.

"Ya' want me t' have ya', honey?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide down your thighs, tainting untouched skin.

You squirm, nodding eagerly. "Please. I want you so bad it hurts"

His voice, so soft and low, may have passed as a grunt. But you saw. Heard. Noticed. Like the way his face frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if you just told him you were sick. As if he wanted to be the cure to the disease he gave you.

"Tell me where it hurts"

Demanding in a tender way. Almost benevolent. Not even hurting you, but wanted to take every pain of yours away. You didn't deserve not even a scratch of this angry dirty world ruining your soft heart.

You point to the middle of your legs, parting them slowly open. His eyes turn glassy as he tugs your jeans down, and the first sight he gets, is your underwear, damp with your sticky arousal. He gulps, eyes darkening with desire.

"Please. There" you whimper.

"I've got eyes" Joel lets out a small, gruff chuckle. "You're impatient, know that?"

He cups your chin, eyes locked on yours. His breath is shallow, voice raspy and low.

"Don't worry. Lemme help"

He places himself in between your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

"Gon' show ya' what'a man with experience has to offer, al'ight? Now, spread y'r legs open for me" he commands softly. "Lemme see that beautiful, needy cunt"

He pulls your panties down, his throat dry when he peels the drenched fabric down your legs, revealing glistening folds. He can see how swollen and puffy they were. The sight makes his mouth water and his cock pulse with desire.

Joel lowers his head, knees and bed creaking, inhaling the sweet intoxicating smell of your arousal, his facial hear ghosting over your trembling skin until it tickles. Your nervous giggling get stuck in your throat when Joel buries his face between your thighs, tongue delving into your slick folds to lap up the sweet nectar that dripped from your cunt. He groans at the taste, as if savoring the best meal to exist on Earth.

"So sweet" he growls, voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His mouth latches onto your clit, suckling the throbbing needy bud as his tongue flicks over it. "Too damn sweet"

It still hurts. It's across your face.

"Gon' help with 'tis. Just wait" he thrusts two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out, curling them to stroke a spot that reduces you to a quiet muffled mess. "S' right, sugar" he praises. "Wanna see you come f' y'r old man"

The feeling of having you here, so needy and responsive, is doing things to him. Joel's lost on the way you beg, his name out of your parted lips in a secretive manner, as if reinforcing the nature of your desires and needs. How this moment was only yours, a whole new world past his door, creeping up the sweaty sheets, making way to his lonley heart, poisoned by the infectious warmth of your own.

He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, cute cries and whimpers serving as a motivation to bring you to the edge. Joel devours you, sucking like a starved man, flicking and lashing at your gushing cunt mercilessly with his tongue. It's experience, he made damn sure you knew about that. He also pumps his fingers faster, plunging deeper into your clutching heat.

"Come on, doll" he urges, voice a low rumble against your sex, "wanna feel 'tis tight little pussy spasm 'round ma' fingers"

"Joel!" you moan out loud, hands clawing into his arms for support.

He can feel your body tensing, your tight walls fluttering around the digits plunging in and out of you. Joel knew you were close, so he sucks your clit with fervent intensity as he curled his fingers just right, stroking that special spot that made your toes curl.

"That's it, y/n" he growls, eyes flashing up to meet yours, dark and intense with lust. "Drench me, y' sweet thing"

With a keening cry, you feel your body burst. Your back archs as your body quakes and shudders, your orgasm washing over you. Joel feels your pussy clench and spasm around his fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat his hand and drip down his wrist.

Joel's a gentleman, languidly licking and suckling as you ride out of your high. Once your breathing slows, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to clean off your essence. He meets your gaze, eyes hooded with the same hunger as your own.

"Like I said" he praises softly, making your spent cunt throb. "You're too damn sweet, sugar"

You giggle. "You're insane"

He leans in, planting a soft fluttering kiss to your quivering lips.

"Just f' ya'"

There's only one thing left to do. You know. He knows. You both know. But the way he takes in your pause, as if you're going to discover the most powerful secret, makes you believe there is so much more. His expression turns curious at your deliberate choice of aphony.

"Tell me what ya' want now. I could give ya' the world if 's what ya' want"

You avoid his gaze, playing with the collar of his flannel.

"I need you"

He lets out a clipped chuckle. "That I know, dirty one"

You roll your eyes, playfully.

"We're both aware. But it's not that, it's just..."

"Yes?"

"Can I see you, please?"

His eyes meet your expectant ones. His voice is gruff but soft, his desire for you mixing with a hint of vulnerability.

"Y' wanna see me?"

You nod as he gulps harshly, mouth tasting like sand.

"Can I take off your clothes?"

Joel's heart skips a beat again at your request, a mix of desire and vulnerability warring within him. It's too revealing and intimate, but God knows he just wants to give you all you want.

There's a hint of huskiness to his vulnerable voice. Unsure.

"Yeah" a beat. "You can"

You start unbuttoning slowly, licking your lips with eager trembling hands and pupils blown wide. Like a child on Christmas, knowing they're opening what they asked for. What they wanted. What they wrote at the top of their list. Your slow, deliberate unbuttoning has him practically holding his breath.

"Joel..." you bite your lip, removing his final button. Finally. "You're...."

Joel's heart stammers at the sight of your eyes on him, your obvious desire heightening his own. Yet, he avoids your stare as you reveal his bare chest, pose faltering a bit as if his strength succumbs to your hungry stare. He gulps under the intensity gaze, feeling so fucking vulnerable. It shakes him to his core, foreign to all this fuzzy things that make him sick.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, his voice gruff and raw.

"Yeah…?"

"Perfect" you whisper out loud, his whole world crumbling down.

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest tightening with a mix of vulnerability and affection. Despite it, he feels self-conscious.

"Perfect…?" he teases, a hint of a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah" you hum. "So pretty"

A word that doesn't fit in Joel's world. Feels off-putting. He has never been called such, but once it falls past your lips, coated in adoration, it feels as if it's the only truth ever. His heart skips another beat, body responding to your words.

You can tell he can't believe you're saying those words about him by the hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"Joel"

He lets out a gruff huff in response.

"Look at me"

"Pretty" Joel repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you believe me?"

Joel's heart skips another beat, the vulnerability growing stronger. He's still not used to hearing compliments about his body by you, by anyone at all. It's making his head spin a little.

He can't quite meet your eyes as he responds.

"Take it easy on me, sweet girl. I ain't exactly in m' prime"

"Joel. Look at me" your voice a little firmer this time.

Joel takes a moment, his heart racing. He can't resist your plea, even if he hates feeling vulnerable. Slowly, he meets your eyes.

His voice is almost quiet. "I'm lookin'"

"Good. Do you want me to know what I'm looking at?" you extend your hand to reach his face, brushing a strand of hair that's fallen to his forehead. "Your greys" then, you tug his bottom lip down, "your lips", you circle the wrinkles around his eyes, "your warm eyes" and afterwards, your fingers dwindle on his nose, "just... all of your face: scars, spots and wrinkles. It leaves me breathless"

Joel's heart races as you speak, your words sinking in. He feels seen, in a way he's rarely felt before. Its messing with his mind.

"You describin' what you seein'?" his voice hoarse with emotion. It sounds far away, as if it didn't belong to him.

His lips part as your hand moves down, grazing his neck and his chest before landing on his belly. The sincerity in your eyes is making him feel even more vulnerable, and Joel can feel himself crumbling under your intense stare and firm hands.

"No, I'm describing what I love"

He looks at you, eyes filled with vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Y/n"

It was like being peeled, layer by layer. He hated how he was built now. Rough. Too sharp around edges. Soft on ones he wished he wasn't.

"All of you"

He chuckles, but it's a defeated dying sound. Almost bitter.

"That's impossible, honey"

"What's impossible is not to love all of you"

He gulps, throat raw but unable to say anything.

"Please. Let me love you"

As if he hadn't already hand you his soul. Swallowed all of your words with a feverish desperation, placed them inside a space that had gone cold with time, now feeling like a warm home where he finally belonged.

"My sweet girl..."

You feel Joel pressing you up against the mattress, his bigger body pinning you in place with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your naked curves with a fevered intensity, a low growl of frustration escaping his lips when you break the kiss to take some air.

"You can do with me anything you want"

Joel's breath stops. With a trembling but sure hand, he reaches out, his calloused fingers skimming over the swell of your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh until your nipples strain against the cloth of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against your stomach.

Joel leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers. 

"Anythin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire as you nod, desperate. 

But then, he's laughing, as if pleased with your eagerness. Amused.

"That much? Oh, baby, you that desperate for 'tis ol' man? That bad you want me?"

You whine, at loss for words, the throb too painful to think straight. Joel laughs again, but it's devoid of malice.

"No, don't just nod. I wanna hear you say it, y/n. Wanna hear ya' beg fo' me like the desperate sweet little thin' y'are"

You've never been one for begging, but something about the way he's looking at you, the raw, unbridled hunger in his eyes, makes you want to give him everything he wants and more.

"Please, Joel" you breathe, voice reduced to a needy tremor, "I need you so bad, Joel, please. I need you inside me. I want you filling me, claiming me, in every way possible"

"My sweet girl" he coos, followed by a flurry of heated kisses and desperate groping. You barely have a chance to catch your breath before he's pressing you up with more insistence, his body pinning you in place with a hunger that leaves you desperately aching for more. "S'pretty"

Joel's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. He smirks at the desperation written all over your face, something wicked and tender circling inside his brown eyes.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers huskily. "Ts' it, doll. Keep on beggin'. Lemme hear how much y' need ma' cock 'nside 'tis tight little cunt"

You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as you feel his fingers slide down to brush against your sensitive clit, a wave of arousal coursing through you.

"Please, please, please, Joel" you whimper, your voice high and needy as you grind yourself shamelessly against his hand. "I'm so wet for you. Please, I'm begging you, make me yours"

He growls. "S'eager, huh? Who would've thought ya' were such'a dirty girl for 'tis ol' dick? Just had ya' bein' all lovey dovey a second ago and now y'are beggin' fo' me to ruin 'tis pretty pussy, baby?"

He quickly sheds what's left of his clothes, revealing to your wide eyes the thick, hard length of his cock, springing free and bobbing heavily against his soft belly. Alright, you had some thoughts about dating a much older man, even if Joel seemed the type of guy to be doted, given his energy. You're glad to be proven wrong in the very best way.

"Fuck, Joel" you breathe, licking your lips as you imagine the taste of him on your tongue. "You're so big"

His cheeks color a pretty pink, sweat beads adorning his forehead. The heat of his body envelopes you like a furnace.

"Now I truly believe ya' like what ya' seein'" he chuckles, "such'a greedy little thing" a beat. "S' fucken hungry for ma' cock. Don't worry, baby. 'M gon' give it to you, nice and slow, until you're screamin' fo' me to let you come"

Joel settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, effectively swallowing your needy whimpers.

"M' gon' take real good care of what's mine" in that southern drawl that drives you crazy. Hungry. Poisoned with a ravenous desire to possess every inch he can reach of your body. For everyone to see. Know. For all the prying stares. Judgeful. To appreciate in secret under the watchful gaze of the weak sunrays that filter through the courtains of his bedroom.

He then leans to take one of your nipples on his mouth, suckling and teasing the rosy peak, lapping the sensitive bud with his tongue, his hand kneading and squeezing the soft flesh of your breast. You arch into his touch, a symphony of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he works your body.

At the same time, Joel begins to slowly, teasingly push forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick folds and sinking inch by tortuous inch into your tight heat.

"Joel!" you gasp, your nails sinking down on the soft expanse of his broad back as you take in his girth, walls clenching and fluttering around his size.

Joel's breaths come in harsh pants against your skin as he fights the urge to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Y'are so fucken tight" he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Don't wanna hurt you, my little fawn. But ya' feel s' good, sweet girl. S' perfect 'round ma' cock."

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, using the leverage to rock your hips up against his, taking him a little deeper with each desperate roll. He's impressed by your hunger, your desire fueling further his consuming own.

"Joel" you mewl, voice breaking with need, "I can take it, please, I promise. I just need all of you, Joel. Please, fuck me hard and deep until I can't think of anything but the feeling of your cock inside of me"

With a feral growl, Joel surrenders to your plea, slamming his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt inside you. A scream that sounds like his name tears from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of all of him devouring your from inside, your body convulsing with the force of his thrust.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that shake the bed frame and echo through the room. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the sounds coming out of your mouths.

"Please, please. I wanna come, please"

Tears well in your eyes at the insistence that rocks your body. Joel's eyes widen, perhaps in surprise, this new and strange, yet, his cock twitching makes this all the more intriguing. Arousing even.

"S' you cryin' over my cock?"

You deny it, but the salty trails have started to pool down your cheeks, your prettu fluttering eyelashes damp. Joel gulps, feeling blood rushing to his cock again.

"Don't worry, little fawn" doesn't know why but his tongue runs across your tear-smeared face, the taste of your damp skin, musk and sweat strong, make his mind go numb. "I think ya' look pretty when ya' cry"

Joel feels your velvet walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock, signaling your coming climax. He doubles his efforts, slamming into you with a wild, primal intensity that steals your breath away.

"That's it, sweet girl" Joel growls, voice ragged with lust as he feels your body tensing beneath him. "Come for me, y/n. I wanna feel you comin' undone on ma' cock, screamin' ma' name as I fill you up nice"

You're a sight to savor in, like basking the first rays of sunlight on the morning. Like his bitter coffee on his favorite mug. But you're sweet on the inside and the outside, he thinks as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing merciless circles over the sensitive nub. Joel is lost on you, he's aware, as he leans down to capture your lips in a consuming kiss. He just wants to have all of you, day and night, body and soul, in and out, because just a taste, and he's gone down the deep saccharine trails of your neck and quivering heart.

Your back arches as the pleasure becomes too intense to bear, your body convulsing uncontrollably as your climax crashes over you. You scream his name, you think, lost in a sea of desperate pleas and incoherent whimpers spilling from your lips.

Joel hilts himself deep inside you as your walls spasm and milk his cock, your release triggering his own, followed by a grunt akin to surrender, perhaps. To you, now fully his. This is the end, he thinks. Now, he's truly yours. God help her, the townsfolk say when you tell them Joel's your man, but when a hoarse shout of your name comes out of his mouth, pulses hot and hard as he grinds against you, you think this is all you need.

Fuck it.

This is what it feels like.

Joel collapses onto you, his bigger softer body blanketing you as he struggles to catch his breath.

"My sweet girl" he coos, peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands roaming over your curves with a gentle, reverent touch. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, when he whispers, voice low and sated. "Mine"

You can't help but laugh in awe. "Yes, Joel. Yours"

He props himself up on his elbows, his brown eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the delicate line of your jaw.

"I know I said I was scared, before. That I've tried to push you 'way. God, y'are stubborn, know that? 'M just glad you ain't a quitter"

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that makes your heart leap. It tastes bitter like grains and whiskey, but sweet with love and devotion. It's not only a spark between your lips, another of many, but a promise, burning with the same intensity the old coffee pot heats his coffee in the morning.

"Y'are my everything, y/n" your name pronounced like never before. Now ever since.

A heart. A home.

"So are you, Joel" his name in a fervent whisper. Born to be said like a prayer.

And for the first time in so long, Joel Miller feels the same thing he felt when he held Ellie close. I've got you, babygirl.

Hope.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @pedgito / dts: @joelscowgirl ⋆˚✿˖°

[pedroscurls]

love at last (one-shot)

summary: harry’s never been in love before… until he meets you, which awakens a part of him that he never thought he was capable of.

pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader content warning(s): minor spoilers so please beware!, love at first sight trope, harry is charming and completely smitten, mainly harry POV, harry + reader go on dates!, no use of y/n. word count: 4.6k a/n: i just finished watching materialists and i'm OBSESSED with harry so obviously the next best thing is to write for him. please heed the warnings, there will be a few spoilers mentioned in this story!!! hope you enjoy nonetheless bc i'm gonna be dreaming about harry for a long time (look at those CURLS in that second pic tho jfc 🥵)

Harry had given up on the idea of love. He hadn’t felt it before and he felt like life was just passing him by. Was something wrong with him? Was he just not capable of falling in love—being in love? 

Lucy was a good match for him, but it felt forced. There was a mutual attraction, but something had been missing and he wasn’t sure what it was. 

Not until she said that she didn’t love him. Harry realized at that moment that he didn’t love her either. Lucy said it was supposed to be easy, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He tried Adore’s services, but the matches didn’t feel real, didn’t feel authentic. These women just wanted him for his money, his height, his job. He checked a lot of the women’s boxes—he was a unicorn, which Lucy liked to put it. 

But it never felt easy. He looked at each woman from a business standpoint, something transactional, but Harry yearned for something more. 

Something deep. 

Something real.

So, he canceled his membership and decided that maybe love was just never going to be in the cards for him. 

And maybe that he didn’t need it anyway. 

The dating scene in New York was horrific. To you, it felt like every nice man in the world didn’t exist. All the dates you had been on ended terribly—with some even ending early. 

The men were either too judgmental or too self-centered, or worse—just wanted one thing and one thing only. Was it this hard to find someone nice? You thought maybe you had been too picky, so you lessened your expectations—that didn’t work either. 

So, you decided to stop dating altogether and instead put your focus into work. If the universe wanted you to be in love, then maybe you should just be patient and let life do its own work. 

Harry had felt instant attraction before, but the first time he laid eyes on you it felt like time stood still. You were laughing at something someone said and he felt a flutter at the pit of his stomach. He’s never seen you at any of his family’s parties before, he would have remembered you. 

He ordered a drink at the bar as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Your smile was so warm, so kind, so genuine. He normally has this natural confidence in him, but when he saw you walking towards the bar, he straightened up and felt his heart race faster. 

Maybe you were a friend of his sister-in-law, he wasn’t sure. His family’s parties were usually so big that he doesn’t remember who’s who. But he knew that he was definitely going to remember you. 

The party was for his brother and his wife—a baby shower and gender reveal. A year after their wedding and they’re already expecting. 

He felt you stand next to him and then he heard your voice, which only made him even more nervous because you sounded so sweet, so nice. Harry had taken a deep breath and then finally turned his body to face yours, but when your eyes met his own, he felt his stomach do flips. 

“Hi,” you said with a small smile. 

“Hi,” he replied with one of his own. 

“Friend of the family?” you asked. 

Harry shook his head. “Older brother.” 

You widened your eyes and reached out to rest a hand over his forearm—a natural reaction from you. “Oh my god, you’re Harry.” 

Harry looked down at your hand briefly and smiled, nodding in your direction. “That’d be me. Are you friends with my brother or…” 

“I’m friends with Charlotte,” you answered, dropping your hand from his forearm. “I was teaching English abroad so I couldn’t make it to her wedding. I’m just glad I could make it for this event.” 

“Where did you teach?” Harry asked. 

“Philippines,” you smiled brightly. “It was amazing. I loved it there.” 

Harry couldn’t help but smile too. You made him feel comfortable, despite the nerves he was feeling before you walked over. “And now? Are you going back there to teach?” 

You shook your head. “It was only a two year contract. I have my certification now to teach English to non-native English speakers here in the States, so New York is home for now.” 

Harry could hear the passion for your work in your voice and the way your entire face lit up. It was refreshing—talking to someone who actually enjoyed what they did for a living. “So you’re teaching at a school? Elementary?” 

You let out a quiet laugh and shook your head again. “As much as I loved teaching younger kids when I was in the Philippines, my focus now is teaching adult learners. I work at a local community college.” 

Harry smiled to himself. He heard the bartender set your glass of wine next to you and you turned away from him to thank the other man from behind the counter. The same genuine and kind smile lining your lips. 

“You sound like you love your job,” he said. 

“Oh, I do. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so rewarding. I try to tell my students that learning English shouldn’t ever replace their native tongue,” you continued. “That their native language is something to be proud of and that just because they’re learning English doesn’t mean it replaces the language they know and grew up with.” 

“You must be an amazing teacher,” he grinned. 

“I try to be,” you laughed quietly. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you took note of just how handsome he is. You had heard about Harry from your dinners with Charlotte, but she didn’t say how extremely handsome he was or how deep his brown eyes were. 

“And I’m just in private equity,” he sighed teasingly. 

“Well, at least you’re rich,” you laughed quietly. “I bet that’s nice.” 

Harry shrugged. He wondered if this is where the conversation will shift, if the genuine authenticity he felt from you will disappear. “It’s a family business.” 

“Oh, so it’s not what you would have wanted to do?” You asked, taking a sip from your glass. You lean against the counter of the bar and stare up at him. “If it isn’t, what would you have wanted to pursue?” 

Harry tilted his head as he brought his own glass to his lips. He stared at you from the rim of his glass and then dropped his eyes momentarily to look down at his feet. “Not sure. I haven’t really had the chance to even think of what I would want to do if I wasn’t in the family business.” 

“Hm,” you said, eyes looking up at him from top to bottom. “Maybe a model?” 

He grinned. “Are you hitting on me?” 

“And if I am?” you smiled, eyes staring deeply into his own. 

Harry’s brows slightly raised at your forwardness and he glanced off to the side when he heard his name being called. Then, he looked at you and shot you an apologetic look. “Could I get your name?” 

You smiled and shrugged. “Find me later if you really want to find out, Harry.” You turned on your heel and left him at the counter of the bar when the other guests approached Harry. You glanced over your shoulder to see his eyes staring directly at you as he nodded at whatever the other person is saying. 

You and Harry kept stealing glances at each other from across the room. You could see the way his eyes lingered along your frame and you’re already three drinks in and feeling very brave. 

When Charlotte and Peter found out they’re having a boy, the music only became louder and everyone began dancing. Harry’s eyes stayed focused on you as he walked through the crowd straight to you. He sat next to you and smiled to himself, tilting his head in your direction. 

“Will you tell me your name now?” Harry asked.

You smiled and nodded, telling him your name as you turned your body to face his. You drape one of your legs over the other as you set aside your finished glass of wine. 

Harry smiled. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he nodded.  “Now, would you like to dance?” 

“Oh, I don’t—” 

Harry interrupted you by standing up. He extended a hand out for you and maintained that charming smile. “If I say please, will you reconsider?” 

You bit your lower lip and shook your head, slipping your hand into his own. He helped you to your feet and then led you onto the dance floor. One of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he kept a tight hold on your hand. You bit your lower lip and moved your free hand to rest on his shoulder. 

Being this close to him was intoxicating—feeling his broad chest remain flush against your own, his deep brown eyes staring directly at you as if you were the only person in the room, and god he smelled so good. You inhaled quietly and let your eyes fall shut, allowing him to lead you through the slow dance. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” he whispered into your ear. 

You pulled back and opened your eyes to look at him. He’s still fucking smiling. 

“Are you asking me out, Harry?” 

“Would that be a bad thing?” 

You stared into his eyes as you both sway side to side to the song. You had sworn off dating after so many failed dates, but Harry… Well, there was something about him that piqued your interest from the moment you laid eyes on him today. 

“Well, no, but—”

His smile dropped and his eyes softened. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were seeing anyone.” 

You could feel his hold around you loosen, but you tightened your grip around his hand and pulled him back flush against you. “I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh,” he nodded slowly. “Okay, great. That’s—That’s great for me,” he chuckles quietly. 

“But I kind of sworn off dating… at least for a while,” you admitted. “Lots of bad dates and I just—”

Harry spun you around and pulled you back into his chest, holding you tighter now. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he whispered. “Do whatever you want to do… and if after that date you decide you want to officially swear off dating, then I’ll go my own way and you’ll go yours.” 

“You’re charming, you know that?” You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Harry shrugged, though a large grin lined his lips. “So, is that a yes?” 

“Okay, one date.” 

“One date is all I need,” he smiled, kissing your cheek and holding you firmly against him as he continued to dance with you. 

On your first date with Harry, he had taken you to one the finest restaurants in New York. It had taken you by surprise and you felt very out of your element. You weren’t used to dates like this. He was very chivalrous—he showed up with flowers, opened doors for you, pulled out your seat, and even offered his coat when he noticed you were getting cold. 

And the conversation came easy. He made you laugh and you made him blush. How could someone like him be single? When he reached for your hand during the walk around the park, you looked up at him and found him smiling in your direction. 

He didn’t kiss you on the lips when he brought you back home. Harry had just cupped your cheek, whispered that he had a great time, and kissed your forehead. It was the simplest gesture, nothing too grand or over the top, but you felt your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

Then, you asked him out for a second date. He was grinning—dimples deep in his cheek as his hand dropped from your cheek to wrap around your waist. His strong embrace filled you with so much warmth, so much anticipation because for some strange reason, it felt like you belonged there. In his arms. 

He insisted that he take you out to one of his favorite restaurants and you agreed with a smile. Harry kissed your cheek that same night before walking back to his car. He waited until you were inside before driving away. 

On the second date, Harry wanted to surprise you. He took you to a sushi restaurant—something more casual, but still romantic nonetheless. He rented out the entire small restaurant just for the both of you. The look of surprise on his face made him feel proud, more confident that maybe you wanted to date him more exclusively. 

Harry enjoyed spending time with you and how you had always given him your sole attention and focus. It even brought a smile to his face at just how kind you were to everyone you encountered. During the date, you were intrigued and interested in how the head sushi chefs were making the food. 

It was such an intimate setting and it felt easy. Harry had to wonder if this was what Lucy said a year ago—love should be easy. With the right person, love can be the easiest thing in the world. 

Throughout the date, you were becoming more touchy. A hand on his forearm or leaning against him as you let out a laugh that wracked your entire body. Even after the date when you both were walking around the same park again, he had taken your hand and you laced your fingers with his. Then, he felt your head rest against his shoulder and it made the flutter in his stomach more noticeable. 

When he dropped you off at your front door, you had stared up at him with your big eyes and he wanted nothing more than to pull you into him and press his lips against yours. 

But Harry didn’t. He wanted to respect you and your boundaries. You were playing with the lapel of his jacket before gripping it and pulling him against you. Harry’s hands had darted out to rest on your hips—to steady you, to ground himself. 

“Are you gonna ask to kiss me, Harry?” you had whispered. 

Harry’s lips parted as he stared into your eyes. The grip on the hips tightened and he gave you a single nod. He had taken a step forward, eyes completely dark and filled with desire. “Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” 

You smiled and moved your hands to play with the hair at his nape, the curls at the back of his head. You leaned in—just enough for the tip of your nose to brush against his. Harry inhaled sharply. 

“If you don’t kiss me now, Harry, I’m gonna think you don’t like me.” 

Harry tilted his head and leaned forward, nudging your nose with his own. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He moved one of his hands to your cheek and leaned in to press his lips firmly against your own. He remembered how soft and warm your lips were, the sound of a quiet whimper escaping you, and the way his heart was racing. Harry hadn’t felt like this before—how even when he wasn’t around you, all he could do was think about you, or how the butterflies in the pit of his stomach fluttered whenever he saw your name flash across his phone. 

It also made him feel special whenever you were together. You were kind and generous to strangers, but he always felt like the luckiest person whenever your attention was shifted to him. This was only the second date and Harry found himself wanting this to be more exclusive as the date continued. 

The kiss lasted only a few more seconds—the both of you getting carried away before you pulled away from him. Harry remembered the look on your face. The small smile that lined your lips, the way your arms had loosely wrapped around his shoulders, your eyes gazing repeatedly down to his lips like you wanted more. Needed more. 

“Where do you want to go for our third date?” he asked, whispering quietly as he brushed his lips with yours.

“How about I plan it?” you replied, pursing your lips to capture his own in a gentle kiss. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked, dropping his hand from your cheek to join his other at your lower back. He laced his fingers and pulled you flush against him, the feeling of your body heat radiating against his own awakening something deep inside of him. Yearning. Desire. Need. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Let me take you out this time.” 

Harry smiled. He had always been the one to plan the dates, to cater to the other person that he was slightly taken aback at your offer. It made him feel giddy, excited at the possibility of what you would plan. “Okay,” he answered. “I’ll let you take me out this time.” 

“Good,” you smiled and pecked his lips. “I’ll see you then?”

Harry nodded, but pulled you back into a deep kiss. This time—it was intense, more intimate, urgent. His lips moved with your own and his hands drifted lower until the tips of his fingers rested just above your ass. He wanted to reach down and squeeze, but he didn’t. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. 

“I’ll see you then, baby.”

On the third date, you had told him to dress casually. He called you just before he was about to pick you up, asking just how casual he was supposed to dress. You had smiled to yourself and told him casual enough to the point where he wouldn’t care if his clothes would get wrinkled. 

So, when he picked you up—dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with sneakers, you practically wanted to pull him back into your apartment. The date could wait a little longer. You loved seeing him in a suit—had gotten used to seeing him dressed so formally—but seeing him like this, so relaxed and casual just made him sexier. 

“This casual enough?” he asked, presenting you with another bouquet of flowers. 

“You look hot,” you complimented and leaned in to peck his lips. He smiled when you pulled away and then took your hand to lead you outside of your apartment. 

“So…” you told him. “We’re having a picnic.”

Harry grinned and pulled you close to him. You hadn’t yet closed the door to your apartment, but he leaned in and pressed his lips eagerly against your own. Without hesitation, he had moved his lips with yours, hand moving to rest on your hip. “A picnic sounds nice.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t expect to be lying on a large blanket with you next to him. You both were looking up at the clear, blue sky talking about something so random. He felt his heart skip a beat when he heard you laugh—it filled his senses until all he could hear was you and how happy you looked. He wondered if this was what other couples felt like, if this is what they would normally do—have a picnic in the park, eat some food, then lie down in each other’s arms just embracing each other’s company. 

When your laughter died down, Harry had moved to rest his hand on your cheek. You stared up at him, the smile still remaining on your lips. He felt like he could sense what you were thinking about, communicating with you through his eyes. 

His thumb had brushed against your lower lip and he leans in, pecking your lips lightly. 

“Can I ask you something?” Harry whispered. He felt the nerves begin to build and looked away from you for a moment. It wasn’t until you replied with a soft and quiet yes that he looked back at you.

“Would you want to date more exclusively? More seriously?” he asked in a rush. Harry’s eyes softened and the smile on your lips never faltered. 

“I’d like that,” you answered instantly. “I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Really?” 

“Really,” you repeated. 

Harry let out a sigh of relief and leaned in to press his lips against yours again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you lay on your back with him propping himself on his side to kiss you. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders—he couldn’t help but feel extremely overjoyed and happy that the feeling was mutual. 

Almost six months later and now in a fully committed relationship with you, Harry finally understands what Lucy meant—love was supposed to be easy… and loving you felt like second nature to him.

You had been spending most days at his penthouse. There’s already a space in his closet for you and extra counter space in the bathroom. You manage to make this place a home—he’d come home and you’d be there in the kitchen, making dinner. Or on some nights, he’d catch you grading some papers. This felt easy. Being with you was easy. 

Harry knew that he loved you the moment he laid eyes on you. It’s cliche—he knows—but every time he’s around you, his heart races. When he sees you smile or hears you laugh, it makes his stomach do flips. And when he’s holding you in his arms, his life feels complete—like the one thing that had been missing in his life is now here with him. 

He hadn’t yet said he loved you because he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect. Harry had an entire date planned—he was going to take you out to the same restaurant from your first date. Take you for a walk around the park afterwards and then, he’d tell you how much he loves you. It was going to be romantic—something to remember for the rest of his days, but that morning… His entire plan was thrown out the window. 

You were in his kitchen, dressed in one of his shirts, making breakfast. Harry had gotten used to this, but for some reason, that morning, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The sun shone through his large windows, illuminating you in a warm glow. He was dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a worn t-shirt as he stared at you, a smile slowly lining his lips. 

He walked over to you and watched as your eyes moved from the pan and over to him. Harry bit his lower lip at the sight of your broad smile. You dropped the spatula and walked over to him, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders as you pecked his lips lightly.

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” you said. “Since you always like to surprise me, I figured I could return the favor this time.”

Harry chuckled and allowed his arms to wrap loosely around your waist. He held your body firmly against his own as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Why are you so good to me?” he asked quietly, hand coming up to rest on your cheek. 

“Hmm,” you answered. “Maybe because I really like you.” 

Harry grinned and pulled back to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he tilted his head. “Yeah?” 

You nodded, leaning against his touch. “Yeah,” you answered. “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Castillo.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he reached behind you to turn off the stove. He lifted you off your feet to set you on top of the kitchen counter, moving his hands to rest at either side of you. He moved to stand between your legs as he felt your hands move to card through his hair. 

“I am,” he whispered quietly. “Very lucky.” His eyes stared deeply into your own. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest—the nerves slowly beginning to build as those three words settled on the tip of his tongue. There was a tense silence that filled the air and it was almost like you could anticipate what Harry was about to say next. 

Your hands moved to his cheeks, feeling the bristles of hair underneath your fingertips. You leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose as his hands moved from the edges of the counter to his rest on your hips. 

“Baby,” he said softly. 

“Harry,” you replied. 

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I thought I’d never be capable of love. It just always seemed so difficult for me, but you—loving you is easy.” Harry couldn’t help the tears that build in his deep brown eyes. The way you were looking at him now eased so much of the nerves and worry that he felt. “You make me feel—baby,” he sighed—his breath catching in his throat as he brought a hand up to wipe the fallen tear that trickled down his cheek once he blinked.

“Hey…” you whispered, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’m in love with you too, Harry.” 

He pulled back. Eyes wide, features etched with shock. “You make me feel good,” Harry continued. “Valuable. Seen. Heard. Special. Every moment spent with you is always better than the last, and when I’m apart from you, I’m always counting the minutes until I can see you again.” He let out a shaky breath as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours as he whispered, “I love you. I think I loved you the first time I saw you.” 

“God, I forgot how charming you are,” you teased, hands moving to his shoulders as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. “You made me believe in love again, Harry. I’m so glad I said yes when you asked me out… and to think, I could have missed out on this, on you.” Leaning in, you pecked his lips lightly. “And loving you is easy too. You make me feel safe and I’ve never felt that before… with anyone.”

Harry smiled and gently pulled you off the counter, your legs easily sliding around his waist as he walked you both to the large couch. He sat down with you on his lap as he brought a hand up to your cheek. “Move in with me?” 

“Didn’t you know?” You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips with his. “I was slowly beginning to move my things in anyway,” you grinned. 

Harry chuckled, firmly pressing his lips against your own. “I love you, baby,” he mumbled. “So much.” 

“Mmm,” you smiled, pulling away briefly. “Gonna show me how much?” 

His eyes darkened instantly and he wrapped his arms around your waist to swiftly lie you on your back against the couch. Harry settled himself between your legs as he leaned back in—eagerly pressing his lips along your jawline down to the side of your neck. 

“Oh, baby, you know I will,” he grinned against you, peppering light kisses against your neck. 

The feeling of his stubble tickled your skin, causing a fit of giggles to escape your lips. He smiled to himself and pulled away from you briefly to look into eyes. 

“I love you,” he whispered, a content smile lining his lips. 

“I love you too, Harry. Now get back here and kiss me,” you giggled, linking your hands together at the nape of his neck and pulling him back down to press your lips with his. 

Harry smiled against your lips—contentment, relief, and happiness filling his entire soul. 

Lucy forgot to mention that loving was only easy if it was with the right person. 

And you—you were the right person for him. 

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[myownwholewildworld]

old man!joel coming home from a long day of patrol, pissed with whatever tommy and/or ellie did to annoy him, and bending reader over while she does something like dishes or cooking. he is POUNDINGGGG the living hell out of her and muttering shit about how his day was terrible while reader is practically drooling and fucked dumb 👅👅👅

listen... i was screeching like a bitch in heat while writing this. FFFFUCK ME. thank you for this, anon, i love you 🫡

old man!joel miller collection masterlist | notifs blog

tw/tags: 18+, mdni. pwp/filthy smut. blissful domesticity / you're doing the dishes. free use. mild breeding kink. joel is a bit rough bc he's annoyed, poor baby. joel eats you from behind while you scrub. hair pulling, one playful spank, one account of rimming. unprotected piv. creampie. implied age gap. reader is female but not described other than hair that can be yanked.

You were elbow’s deep in the kitchen sink, doing the dishes, when you heard the front door creak. “Joel?” You called out, peeking over your shoulder. It was late at night, and you had just finished preparing the meal for the evening. No matter how late it was, you always waited for Joel to come back home when he was assigned to patrol. It was a good way to wind down for the day, have some warm food to replenish your empty bellies before heading together to bed. “M’back, sweetheart,” he replied from the hallway, loud enough for you to hear. “Take off you boots!” you warned him with a chuckle. “Otherwise, you’ll have to mop the mud off the floor before dinner!”

You heard his huffy grunt from the kitchen, quickly followed by the dull thud of his boots hitting the wooden planks.

Your attention returned to the pile of dishes and pots in front of you, scrubbing them clean with a sponge and bare hands.

“What do I always tell you?” Joel gritted right behind you, his broad hands palming either side of your hips.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “To wear gloves, I know. But I won’t be longer than five minutes, I promise.”

“You’re gonna ruin your hands,” he tutted. “And you know I like ‘em soft.”

Looking over your shoulder, you saw the deep crease between his prominent, silvery brows. Joel wore a downcast expression, the crows’ feet around his eyes kissing the corners. His pepper-and-salt curls were wildly pointing everywhere, a testament to how windy it was outside.

“How’s patrol been?” you asked while you focused on the task at hand again.

“Shit. It’s been a rough day,” he husked out, shaking his head. “I hate patrols with Ellie and Tommy. They always do my head in.”

Your lips curled up in a smile—it was good for him to spend time with his family. Deep down, you knew he enjoyed their company, although all the banter left him exhausted by the end of the day.

“No, you don’t,” you retorted with a giggle.

“Yes, I do,” he growled in your ear, his calloused hands smoothing out over your tummy. “They don’t know when to shut up.”

The energy emanating from Joel’s body was intense, charged with frustration and a hint of exasperation. Without asking for permission, his meaty fingers found the button of your jeans, undoing it expertly quick before he pulled the zipper down.

“They fucking bully me any chance they got,” his chest rumbled with a contained grunt before he unceremoniously pushed your pants down to your knees. “Ellie and her puns drive me crazy as it is, but Tommy always has to chip in.”

You gasped, eyes fluttering for a second, when Joel’s left hand dove past the elastic of your underwear and his fingertips stroked the unruly curls on your mound. Squirming a little, breathing shallowly now, you scrubbed the pot harder. Your concentration faltered again when his ring finger wiggled through your slit to find your needy clit.

Joel nibbled at your earlobe, his tented jeans hard pressed against your ass. The heat of his chest warmed up your back, loosening the muscles, all the while his pad thumbed your nub lazily but determinedly.

“I wonder when they will run out of stupid jokes,” he went on, as if you were not melting under his touch. “I should burn those magazines in the garage.”

You hummed like a nightingale, your mind emptying of all thoughts. But soon his hand slid out of your panties, leaving you clenching for more. Before you could tell him not to stop now, Joel placed his hand between your shoulder blades and bent you over until your boobs were hanging into the sink.

“Old my ass,” he rasped before you heard him kneeling behind you. “I ain’t that old.”

You didn’t dare to point out how his knees had just cracked—you didn’t want to sour his mood anymore.

Still foaming the same pot, Joel’s fingers hooked around your panties, slithering them down your thighs until they tangled with your trousers on your knees. His broad hands grasped your ass cheeks and coaxed them apart—the cold air of the room kissing your wet pussy made your skin bristle, but soon enough the cold was replaced with Joel’s warm lips.

You sobbed audibly, arching your back, while Joel lapped at your entire fold, from your throbbing clit all the way up to your rimmed hole. Your breathing accelerated, heart racing wildly now, when he gently licked your puckered entrance before pecking it and returning to your creaming bundle of nerves.

“They said my aim is getting worse with age,” he complained, his lips talking against your inner labia. “Had to fucking show ‘em how it’s done.”

Joel then latched onto your clit and you moaned uncontrollably, your knees trembling with blinding pleasure. He suckled on it, the tip of his tongue circling around it from time to time, edging you to the summit of a much-needed orgasm. He paused for a breather and you grinded your crying cunt on his nose and mouth, silently begging for release.

“Tommy didn’t hit the can,” Joel huffed, nudging your clit with the tip of his nose. “Still had the guts to tell me that I am the one whose aim is getting worse? Clown.”

How he could ramble about his day while he was eating you out from behind was beyond reason. You barely had two brain cells rubbing together right now, forcing you to keep on scrubbing the same pot over and over again until the protective coating was coming off.

Joel sank his tongue in your palpitating opening, and right there and then you came. Wailing, you let go of the pot and sponge to grab at the rim of the sink, breathing heavily as he fucked you with his tongue throughout a shattering climax. Your creamy juices poured into his mouth and Joel drank from you like a man starved for water.

When you stopped shuddering with the afterglow, Joel got up to his feet behind you. Resuming your task with the dishes, you grinded your wet pussy on his zipper, the pull tab tickling your clit, asking for more.

Joel palmed your globes, squeezing them tight, before he took a step back to unbuckle his belt. Only a second had passed between hearing his zipper going down and Joel stabbing your cunt with his veiny cock, burying himself down to the hilt.

“Oh, f-f-fuck,” you stuttered under your breath, brows bunched up in concentration as you scrubbed the next dish.

Joel sighed heavily behind you, his hands clasping your waist to keep you in place. “Out of six cans, I only missed one. One! And only because the wind got a bit too strong as I was shooting! I had to listen to Ellie mocking me all the way back to Jackson and Tommy laughing his ass off.”

The way he was freeusing you had you gushing everywhere—Joel knew he always had your consent, didn’t matter if you were asleep or awake. You just wanted him pounding you hard until your brains and guts got fucked out into oblivion, just as he was doing you now against the kitchen counter.

Joel’s thrusts were sharp, deep and relentless. His hard cock stretched your inner walls impossibly so, a dull sting blooming into a very tight coil low in your belly. Your pussy hugged him, fluttering around him in uncontrollable waves, every time he was fully seated inside you.

For five minutes, he remained silent behind you, only his heaving grunts, your needy sobs and the squelching sounds of your cunt filled the musky atmosphere of the kitchen. When he rutted in, you pushed your hips back, eagerly meeting him halfway—your bodies in heavenly unison, as if your pussy had been made only for him. Only for his cock to ruin.

“Need this,” Joel muttered while one of his hands landed between your shoulder blades again, your back arching some more. “This sweet pussy of yours to blow off some steam.”

Before you could purr in approval, your drool falling off the corners of your mouth into the dish you were mindlessly scrubbing, Joel bunched your hair up in a ponytail and yanked at it. You gasped at the sudden, harsh tug that forced your head back. With every jerk on your hair, your puffy lips wolfed his pulsing dick down more eagerly, squeezing arrhythmically as another orgasm began to boil inside you.

You just couldn’t remain quiet any longer—when Joel jackhammered in and pulled at your hair, you moaned like a slut. He was fucking you so hard now, your breasts jiggled in the farmhouse sink, your underboobs hitting the ceramic. The clapping sound of your bodies meeting competed with your wanton whimpers, but you made a point of screaming louder.

Feeling a renewed rush of blood coursing through Joel’s girthy cock, you clenched your used pussy around him with a very tight grasp—so tight, that he was humming and ruggedly breathing while he climbed up to ecstasy. Joel tugged at your hair again, and this time he kept on pulling, your back impossibly arched like a bow ready to snap, until the back of your head was resting on his right shoulder.

“You know my aim is excellent, darling,” he groaned huskily, announcing his orgasm.

Joel pulsed one last time inside you before his cum filled you up in spurts, rope after rope of his white seed gluing to your inner walls and clinging onto every crevice inside your pussy. And when he did, you finally unravelled with him, an overwhelming euphoria drowning you as you sobbed and screamed your pleasure, leaving creamy rings on the base of his cock.

Joel kissed your cheek before letting go of your hair. Both of you were heaving now, trying to tame your breathing back to a normal pace and calming down your hearts. Joel always fucked you dumb and he did delivery this time—you only wished you were also cock drunk.

He pulled out sfotly, your pussy quivering one last time at the emptiness he left behind. You felt Joel’s tantalising fingers in your slick seam, gathering the leaking cum from your pussy lips to push it back inside you. You moaned again, biting down your lip, as he fingered you with his tacky spent, putting it back inside your cunt so it would take.

“Can’t waste it, sweetheart.” With just a few pumps of his thick fingers you came again, your thighs still shaking as you straightened your back.

You looked over your shoulder again to glanced at him stuffing his soft cock back in his boxers, with dreamy eyes and mouth agape, some drool still wetting your chin.

Joel snickered behind you, chuffed with himself. He swiped the spit off your chin with his thumb and licked it off his finger as if it was a little treat.

“What’s for dinner, sweetheart?” he asked, way more relaxed now, while he pulled your panties and jeans up and readjusted them for you.

“Lamb stew, but I wish there was cock on the menu,” you pouted, dreamily sighing as you rinsed off the dish and left it on the drying rack besides the sink.

Joel slyly grinned at you, playfully spanking your ass. “For dessert.”

[millerillusions]

Invest In Me | Harry Castillo x f!reader

Summary: Your life has always been structured, dependable. You don’t stray, and it’s gifted you affluence. When you rashly decide to go on a blind date and they don’t show, you’re left with another fruitless, lone night of solitary. Until one equally lonely Harry Castillo invites himself to your dinner table and offers you a partnership just maybe worth investing in.

Pairing: Harry Castillo (Materialists) x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected piv (don’t be silly, wrap your willy.), oral (f!receiving), pull out and pray, cum eating, praise, wealthy hedge fund manager reader, lucy doesn’t exist/isn’t mentioned, fancy wine drinking, smoking, fluff, so much flirting, the authors limited knowledge of business and chess, no description of reader other than female anatomy and wears a dress/heels, a little easter egg referencing the kitchen scene bc i couldn't help myself

A/N: yes.. i did just post about my current wips.. but then i watched materialists, and came home and immediately wrote (no major spoilers in this). wanted to write something where Harry finds a partner who's also rich and work-oriented. i caved too quick for him and had to. sorry. thanks to anyone who reads <33 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Blind dates are foolish.

You knew this. You’ve always thought this. Have never been convinced otherwise.

They’re wishes; a hopeful fantasy that two people will somehow be able to run an effective, effortless conversation despite knowing nothing about the other prior. They’re unorganised, variable.

Inconsistent. Nothing in your life is inconsistent.

You wake up at 5:30AM. Have a shower. Do your hair. Face. Slip on business casual clothes. Breakfast paired with a cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso. At work by 7AM. At your desk by 7:30AM. Home by 4:30PM.

Sure, sometimes the schedule can dip and maneuver in the later hours of the night in accordance with your current work load, but the point is- you have a schedule. It’s unwavering, sustained. Perfectly crafted to suit your needs and the straining pressure of your job.

You don’t do foolish acts like going on a blind date that the incompetent Rebecca you sometimes have a decent conversation with who sits at the desk opposite yours coerced you into believing would be enjoyable.

Witless, you think, as you stare blandly towards the empty plate opposite yours, framed by silver cutlery and a flawlessly folded napkin, pressed to delicacy. The third glass from the 2020 bottle of Argiano Toscana clenched between your impeccably manicured nails that tap an insistent, mindless rhythm against the stem. The liquor swirls like a bleeding wound in your glass, swishing up against the edges in crimson waterfalls each time you twirl it. It’s bitter on your tongue. Some blackcurrant and dark cherry bullshit of a far too expensive amalgamation of Merlot and Sauvignon Blanc.

Plus, there’s also the delicate lace-trimmed Stygian black dress curled around your body that flows down to your shin with a slit up along to the thigh, paired with simple but efficient silver heels. It’s not the most comfortable item you’ve ever worn- but it’s nice. Extravagant, if you look at it close enough.

Reckless, you think, glaring across at that empty plate on the opposite side of your two-person table that belongs to a person who hadn’t shown up. Toby, Troy, or something. Someone who apparently worked in luxury Real Estate, but who couldn’t even sell you one night of fulfillment or anything close to it. You had to call three different acquaintances to even acquire this table booking tonight, and this is apparently how gratitude is expressed back for your effort.

The candlelight flickers and illuminates the few tables scattered around the devastatingly wealth-painted Italian restaurant, the light laying across one side of your face like some sort of forlorn, two-faced golem sat isolated in the corner. Each of the other tables are occupied, mostly with couples on some feigned romantic date they paid too much to obtain, murmuring words of faux-affection across the flutter of a gentle flame and small portions of meals that took half of their last pay to afford.

“Were we still waiting on ordering, ma’am?” A voice abruptly chips into your carefully molded self-preservation, drawing your gaze slowly up to the waiter with the unpigmented mesh apron wrapped tight around his waist. You blink, eyes unfocused after glaring sharpened blades into the plate ahead of you like it might magically force a meal and a person to form.

“Yep. Still waiting,” You confirm, a grimace tugging at your features as you watch the waiter hesitate, glancing between you and the empty chair opposite. The situation you’re in is ridiculously obvious, like an open gash starkly revealed to everyone in the establishment.

He nods in understanding anyways, pivoting on polished shoes to leave, when you chip up to him, voiced edged with an indignation you fail to swallow back.

“Mind fetching the bottle?”

The man blinks back over his shoulder, peering down towards the glass in your hand, mapping out which wine bottle he needs to fetch. His brows twitch for just a beat- though you’re not sure if it’s in concern or awe- before he’s offering you a polite smile and dipping his head, whisking back to the kitchen to follow through.

You exhale sharply through your nose like the very breath is strenuous, eyelids fluttering closed before you’re leaning back in your chair. Dragging your gaze across the restaurant, the tungsten lighting- warm, reassuring, meaning to console the guests. Currently, it just makes you feel dreary.

You’re preparing to go on another wistful subconscious rant about the disadvantaged woes of blind dates whilst wondering if your vibrator’s batteries have been charged when a figure does appear. Looming like an assured shadow before lowering down into the seat opposite. Your head reels up to stare rather owlishly towards the newcomer’s sudden appearance. He leans back into the wooden seat like he belongs there, has already marked ground, a suave kind of allure hovering around him that you’re surprised you don’t immediately find smarmy, especially combined with the easy grin that upturns the corner of his lip.

Brown eyes are amongst the first things you notice.

The kind of brown that ensures it peers right into you without missing a beat, cooling the simmering apprehension in your chest like it’s effortless. Then the way he’s dressed. A black mesh top- formal enough for the establishment but not so lavish it’s considered profligate. He has a Roman kind of curve to his nose, full lips with a littering of a mustache that combs out into a stubble. He’s handsome, to say the least. Enough to make your heart stutter in a beat, but you blame it on alarm.

His brow curls upwards in a quirk at you as though expecting you to speak first, breaking you away from your pensive observation, mouth slightly parted like you’re spellbound. This can’t be Troy, Toby, Something. He looks too put together to fit the category of Rebecca’s acquaintances.

“You’re not my blind date sent by Rebecca, are you?” You ask blatantly.

He doesn’t look offended by the question. Rather, he seems amused.

“You’re the Hedge Fund Manager.”

His voice comes as a lower drawl than you expected. You can’t pinpoint the accent, but it’s like a rumble of a lullaby past your ears, twirling in mollifying notes with the gentle lull of the piano chords whisking in the air through the speakers. His residence here within just moments of seeing him is zephyr-like, as though he shifts and changes in accordance to the room he’s stationed in, all whilst commanding it with just the broad capability he clearly holds.

Your face falls slightly at his unforeseen mention of your occupation. You tilt back in your own chair, unsure if you’re trying to build an air of nonchalance or trying to create distance between you and this stranger that isn’t just the polished timber of the table.

“I dabble in that, sure,” You reply candidly, idly cautious. His eyes seem to lighten with satisfaction in the faint sandstone lighting. Like he’s trying to breach the space you created, he leans himself forward, tucking his elbows onto the table.

“You recently funded the last deal I brokered. Luxe Escapes,” He explains coolly. You perked slightly, gaze whisking along him, trying to regard him with a more inquisitive glance, wondering distantly if you had ever communicated with him before. It feels unlikely. You think you would’ve remembered a face like this.

“How were you involved in that?” You question, distantly wondering if you had clashed with him over the deal and that’s why you dismissed his existence following the conflict; act as though it never happened until the complication eventually dissolves itself into ash whilst you’re left with your triumph.

“I was the Sales Executive,” He assures, noting the slight pull of your shoulder blades in anticipation of a tense conversation. You blink, frets smoothed over swiftly.

“You were the Sales Executive?” You echo, giving him a once-over. Truthfully, it’s not difficult at all to imagine him pacing around a vast space of some grey-painted living room, footsteps leaden and quick as he prattles on about why some company or item would be efficient and worthwhile to invest in.

“That’s me,” He confirms, but he doesn’t look exactly supercilious or smug. Definitely not like that hotel branch company of luxury stays that conform the guests into the daydream of ‘escaping reality’ is rapidly becoming worth millions of dollars.

“And you are?”

“Harry.”

You tsk softly, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth, seemingly unimpressed. Your head tilts, along with your wine glass as you circle it with mindless consideration, tone sardonic. “Harry. Fancy.”

He smirks lopsidedly, fingers flexing where they curl neatly over each other on the table. “Thought it’d sound less formal than saying Harry Castillo outright like this is a business meeting.”

“You’ve only talked about business so far,” You remind him facetiously.

“That’s fair. Let me try again,” He concurs. Then he rolls his thickset shoulders back to fixate his posture, a good-natured smile stretching along his inviting lips. He tilts himself forward, outstretching his hand towards you over the table. “Harry. I saw you sitting here over here alone and thought I’d come join you.”

You pause for just a beat, gaze fluttering to his outstretched hand, then back to him. Brazenly and uncharacteristically, you decide to amuse whatever this is. Leaning forward to meet him, you stick out your arm and take his hand, offering your own name back. His palm curls over yours, practically swallowing the proportions of your hand. It makes your throat tight realising how large he is, taking up the space like a polished, debonair boulder.

“You didn’t think about if I’d tell you to go away?” You hum, squinting towards him in silent challenge, attuned to keeping up this impression of satire he doesn’t seem to mind. His hand is still engulfed over yours- and instead of shaking, he squeezes once, before attentively turning your palm downwards, until he’s holding just your fingers in his grip. He bends down further, dipping his head down to lay an amiable but lingering kiss against your knuckles.

But what sends your heartbeat tripping calamitously in your ear drums is the way he keeps his eyes perched towards you, unwavering and unmoving. Drowning you in a melody of heat that seeps over you like dripping, melted sugar. That subtle flicker of interest swirling within the embrace of coffee-coloured warmth.

“I did. But I just had hope that you wouldn’t,” He rumbles in reply as he lifts back up, tentatively dropping your hand. It hovers sluggishly in the air for a beat too long before you finally regain control of your motor functions and let it fall back to your thigh. You huff a short, disbelieving laugh disguised as an exhale.

“Hope sourced from what?”

He crosses his hands over his lap, head cocking to the side as he considers the question for a moment, a sense of susceptibility murmured through the language of gaze. It’s not exactly pitying, just heartening.

“From the way you look like you could use some company,” He answers sincerely, his eyes flickering over you in an appreciative once-over that doesn’t feel like he’s leering, only valuing like you’re something cherishable. “And, admittedly, in good faith I couldn’t let that dress go to waste. It looks too good on you to do so.”

Jesus, he’s pulling out every move in the game.

Atypical in comparison to your usual indifferent composure, you can feel your cheeks heating, burning your skin. Actually flustered for the first time in what feels like months.

As if your own personal saviour dedicated to assuaging all your needs, the waiter swoops back in with the bottle of wine you requested held in two hands. He pauses for a second as he notices Harry, incredulity flicking through his eyes. But then he sends you a pleased smirk and unscrews the cork of the bottle, refilling your glass with repeated precision.

You murmur a quick gratitude, and the waiter takes the initiative to fill up the wine glass in front of Harry, who nods his own thanks. He plucks it up from the stem, gaze flickering from the rich scarlet liquid as he swirls it before returning back to you as he takes a sip, gaze remaining set on you. You mimic his actions, eyeing him from over the translucent rim, gaining back your conviction.

“Merlot,” He muses as he lowers the liquor from his lips. Your purse your own with amusement.

“You know wine?”

“No. The bottle's label says Merlot,” He says matter-of-factly, mirth ringing in his tone as he gestures off-handedly to the bottle. You blink quickly, that flushed tint coiling back over your skin, which only spurs him on.

“Fancy,” He comments steadily.

You breathe out sharply, lifting the glass back to your mouth to take a quick sip, lifting your shoulders in a careless shrug. “Didn’t think I was going to have any company.”

“I hope I’ll live up to any expectations you had for tonight,” He says, intentions genuine. But he clearly noticed how the table was set up for two when he approached, and yet only holding you.

It’s correctly jarring and disorienting considering your former thoughts on blind dating just a short while ago. Sure, this meeting wasn’t set up between you and Harry- but it was still accepting an offer of company from a stranger you knew nothing about prior, just as you would on a blind date. Harry continues to persuade you into telling him more about yourself, which you tentatively immerse yourself with.

Much to your bewilderment, you don’t entirely despise the conversation that you slip into with him. It’s smooth, undemanding, and light.

You tell him mundane things like what you had for breakfast, how early you usually wake, your pet lizard who lives back at your parent’s home in LA- before dipping into the story of why you were seated alone in this abundantly ornate and elaborate restaurant. Sheepishly laying out the story of how Rebecca had somehow coerced you into going on a blind date with a guy you can’t remember the name of, and how he stood you up. You shield any mortified winces with expressions of contempt, fingers starting up that irritable tapping against the stem of your glass again.

You go back and forth on sharing short, meaningless information about yourselves. Learning how Harry got into sales, explaining he grew up being surrounded by factors of money and influence constantly. He gestures back to a pair sheltered in a side booth, both hunched over the table and murmuring to each other like deadly secrets are being transferred. He elucidates with a grimace about how they’re newly-weds, boisterous and too sickeningly loving, which is what first led him to approach you when he couldn’t stand another second of third-wheeling his own kin and his newfound wife.

“So I guess we were both just feeling a bit lonely tonight,” You evaluate, chin tilting your face sideways slightly, wondering, are you lonely just like me?

“I suppose so.”

“Any thoughts on how to quench loneliness?” You ask, tone coy, one leg lifting to cross over the other. His gaze follows the movement, dropping to the table as though he can see it through the glossy wood.

“You want me to be honest?” He murmurs, eyes returning to your face, your features cast with casual curiosity.

“Of course.”

“I’d like to invite you back to mine tonight,” He admits, unhesitant.

Your moulded expression falters with the outright confession, heart tripping with it.

“You would?” You almost gawk.

“Only if you’re interested,” He assures, mouth thinning slightly as if he mistook your reaction for apathy.

“It’s not that I’m not entirely interested,” You correct, drawing out a soft sigh to collect yourself, propping one of your elbows onto the table. “I’m just.. weighing the pros and cons.”

He gives a slanted grin as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand. “Pros; you won’t be spending the night alone. Cons; you have to deal with repeats of Pink Floyd continuously playing during the car ride.”

You can’t help the gladdened snort that falls from you at the jest. You purse your bottom lip thoughtfully.

“And what do you expect to get in return?” You try to keep your voice methodical.

“Company,” He answers easily, his tone not housing any insistence for you to acquiesce.

You squint towards him, studying and observing. Maybe slightly teasingly, weighing the options over in your head like you’re being faced with a task from your employer.

“It sounds like an investment strategy,” You comment off-handedly.

“More like a mutual agreement.”

You lean back into your chair, hands falling back into your lap, giving a purposeful show of tipping your head to the side again.

“To fuck?” You question crudely. You catch the brief surprise that whisks along his features, but also the way the corner of his mouth twitches in the starts of a smile.

“To not be lonely,” He rectifies.

“Just for a night?” You test, your arms crossing over your middle loosely in a subconscious move of defence.

“Or we could see where it goes after,” He says with that enticing interest painted over his eyes again, with maybe some mingled hope tangled through it.

“After we fuck,” You lift your chin up, humour dour, like the thought of going back to Harry’s doesn’t send adrenaline pulsing through your veins.

He lets himself grin at your bluntness this time around. “Sure.”

“And if I’m thinking about saying no?” You croon, just to scrutinise his reaction, see if this gallant, poised persona of his can stumble.

His jaw clenches in consideration. “How do you usually approach your possible investments?”

You only pause for a beat.

“Like a game of chess.”

“Chess?” He parrots, intrigue evident. You nod.

“Investment is a game of chess. You think about all the strategies you need to win the board over, not just about your next move,” You cerebrate, eyes tipping down to your wine glass, fingertips etching a mindful pattern over it. “Each piece has its own pros and cons, like multiple investments do. If you move a piece in the right direction, it can become a more powerful player. It can grow in importance over time. But, a rash decision can leave you vulnerable and perceptible to attacks, or you can strategise and reach a checkmate. You need to invest foresight before anything else.”

His eyes round towards you as you tatter contemplatively, a deference evident in the solemn features of his gaze.

“So it’s a high-risk, high-reward situation,” He suggests, drawing your attention squarely back to him. A sly, knowing smile pulls at your mouth.

“That’s only considering it is a high reward.”

He doesn’t back down, fishing out a lighthearted jest, willingly taking the extra leap to solidify the blatant idea whisking between you. An idea you both already know was agreed to the moment he complimented your sleek dress earlier. “You could always find out. The customer is offering a first-hand demonstration.”

“Well, I do have to adapt to my opponent’s moves,” You hum wittingly, an easy, unarmed smile replacing your artful coquettishness.

“Is that an agreement we’re coming to?” He questions, optimism lighting his face the same way the candlelight casting along the strong curve of his jaw does.

“A mutual one, yes,” You assent, your stomach fluttering like a rocket preparing for launch, excitement twirling through you in searing ambers now that you’ve concretely settled on your decision.

“My driver can be here in the next ten minutes,” He suggests, brow raising. You agree zealously, smoothing your slightly clammy hands down the front of your dress as you rise to a stand. Harry fetches both his wallet and phone from his pants pocket, swinging a text his brother’s way to let him know he won’t be returning to advise him on how to keep his freshly-made wife appeased, and then calling his driver to your location. Placing a few hefty bills as a tip on the table even though neither of you ordered any food- which you belatedly realise- before he’s turning back to you, guiding you out of the establishment, his hand hovering just above the small of your back, barely grazing his touch along you.

You breathe out sharply as the pair of you move out of the restaurant onto the sidewalk, the New York nighttime traffic bustling, the usual tumultuous honk of a horn and the blinding streak of striking lights second-hand nature to you by now. You lean back against the rust-coloured brick of the building, hooking out a cigarette from the packet you kept stashed in your purse, just a pick-me-up in case Troy, Toby, Something ended up being a mundane bore.

Now you light the end, watching the embers burn as they smear tobacco into your lungs in hopes it’ll cool your anticipation long enough to arrive at Harry’s place first before you accidentally slip up and decide to crash your lips against his now and try to lick that blackcurrant wine right off his tongue against this brick wall.

“Drive shouldn’t be too long. I have a penthouse just up in up-town Manhattan,” Harry explains, peering down at his phone to confirm the driver’s journey to you both, settling next to you. You exhale, the smoke pluming up above you, catching away with the blur of a gentle breeze that’s swiftly turning frigid despite the mellow spring weather.

“You own a penthouse in up-town Manhattan?” You echo with only a tinge of bemusement intertwined.

“That surprising?” He raises a brow with a serene look.

“Not really,” You answer quickly. It wasn’t surprising at all, truthfully. He carried the staunch of his wealth with every step, his frame swallowing up the space he accompanied like he had banked out millions worth of cash just to own it, even somewhere as mundane as a sidewalk. It makes your breath hitch all the more as you watch his sombre eyes flutter down to your lips as they part to allow a plume of whitened smoke to trail up past your nose.

“Good,” He murmurs, gaze flickering back up to meet yours after a moment too long has passed.

You swallow gratingly at the simple way he eases into such a winsome persona, glamour and charisma tailing him constantly. He ushers you forth with a warm hand at the top of your spine as the car arrives, letting you stub out your half-smoked cigarette on the sidewalk before holding the door open for you as you slide into the backseat of the lush vehicle, smiling stiffly towards the driver, nerves growing fretfully in a churn in your lower stomach. Harry settles into the leather seat beside you, addressing the driver deferentially and directing him to upper Manhattan, back home.

As promised, the trip is entirely filled with the pleasant, tranquil lull of Pink Floyd drifting through the speakers, mingled with occasional talk between you and Harry. But for the most part, there’s just an effortless, unworried quiet between you; no demand to appear modish or shrewd- just a mutual understanding of comfortability.

The driver pulls up to the curb not long after, Harry swiftly hopping out of the car and trudging around to help you out. This time around, his hand settles more firmly against the base of your spine, fingers curling slightly as he leads you up to his penthouse with a phlegmatic gait, nodding his chin in polite greeting to the staff you pass. Your face is shrouded with a sanguine expression, heartbeat growing more erratic as you step inside the elevator.

Harry opens the dark-oaked door for you, allowing you to move inside the space first, his hand falling away from your lower back. Just with a first glance, you can tell how sumptuous it is. A wide, inviting hallway that opens out into a lavish living room and curves around to a dining table and kitchen, extensive floor-to-ceiling windows combing the expanse of the far wall. The hallway has two other doors perched at the opposite end, which you suppose lead to the bathroom and bedroom. It has similar lighting to the restaurant, only lit by the oscillating flutter of the city lights outside the windows, casting shadows inside and streams of gentle light, along with the low copper glow of a lamp sitting on the coffee table.

“You want a drink?” Harry asks, trotting through the living room in the direction of a side-bar set up opposite the dining table. You turn your gaze back to him, away from the darkened New York City skyline, a sight that somehow augmented your confidence.

“You don’t want to get straight to the business part of tonight? Close the deal?”

He pauses by the counter littered with liquors, blinking over his shoulder back towards you, a beguiled surprise whisking along his features. He diverts his actions, hand falling away from the wine he had been reaching for, instead turning around to face you. He leans back slightly against the bartop, a brow lifting with a teasing fashion.

“Well, I was hoping to try and charm you a bit first,” He replies steadily, his gaze looking even darker in the subdued lighting, casting over the entire length of you. Your body tenses slightly under the regarding look of cherishing esteem, your blood buzzing alight beneath your skin, anticipation coiling.

You take a step forward to meet him, which prompts him to kick off from the edge of the bar, taking purposeful steps towards here.

“Inviting me here was enough,” You murmur when he’s only a few short footsteps from you, deliberately fluttering your eyelashes and craning your neck up to meet his auburn-painted eyes swallowed by a blazing darkness. The side of his mouth twitches, as if with amusement, before it’s mellowing and darkening into something more decisive, nearly hungry-looking.

“Well, in that case..” He mumbles, more to himself, closing the distance between you. His hands lift to steady themselves on your hips, fingers curling around your frame with a durable finality. Your throat tightens with suspense, hopefulness whisking through you as his head tilts, eyes dropping down towards your lips. But neither of you shy away, your gaze mimicking his and wavering down to the fullness of his mouth that suddenly seems so close.

He leans in, and you mirror the movement, going to meet him- his breath brushes along the skin of your mouth which parts on instinct, eyes dropping to slip closed. His hands flex against your sides, and he pauses, pulling back with just a murmur of dubiety shadowing him.

“Though- you can pull out of this investment at any time, you know,” He reminds you, earnestly searching your gaze. You appreciate the effort to reassure and console you, but you fear your knees might give out beneath you if you have to go back and forth with this bashful, coquettish teasing any longer.

“Okay. Enough with the business metaphors. Just kiss me,” You husk back, one of your hands sliding up to curve around the nape of his neck and bring his face back down to yours. He meets you halfway, your lips meeting in a secure, firm kiss.

Your other hand lifts to balance yourself against his covered chest as his mouth slots over yours. It’s not rushed or heady like you might have expected in this case; but instead slow, deep. Assured. Bounding in a way that makes your lips part when his tongue drags along your bottom lip, coaxing. You acquiesce easily, sighing as his tongue meets yours, tangling in a precise dance that gradually grows more resolute, determined.

You sigh into his mouth as if you’re alleviated as his arms curl around your waist, tightening his hold on you, large hands tracing over the dress painted over your back. You tilt your head to the side to purposefully deepen the kiss, which he easily follows, movements quickly growing more desperate, a heat you thought had become a long-lost friend burning at the base of your spine, looping around in curling tendrils to your belly, warming. Your hand traces up from his neck to the edge of his jaw, then up into his hair- softer than you expected, threading through your fingers like silk.

You tug gently, urging. He sounds a low groan into the kiss, arms pulling you flush with the firmness of his body, the two of you swaying slightly to the side, unbalanced. He grips at your waist and guides you backwards. You stumble slightly in your heels, to which his hands curl tighter around your sides, nearly lifting you from the floor and carrying you backwards. He delicately but hurriedly pushes you back against a small side-table where he placed his keys by the door in the hallway, mouth working more urgently over yours. You respond with equal enthusiasm, a desperation clawing through each of your movements as your ass presses back into the edge of the wood, hips tilting.

He keeps one arm wrapped around your body whilst the other dips down, fingers toying with the edge of your dress where the split ends on your thigh. His fingers tilt beneath the fabric, carefully skimming along the softer skin of your inner thigh, making you keen towards him. He then swiftly grabs at your hips, and hoists you up onto the table.

The sudden action has you gasping with incredulity, lips disconnecting from his. He doesn’t waste a beat of not occupying his mouth, head dipping downwards to attach his lips to your neck. He kisses down the length of your throat, tongue tipping out to drag along your pulse, feeling it flutter frantically beneath the muscle.

He travels down further with open-mouthed kisses, to the exposed line of your collarbone. He curls his lips, sucking a small, blooming mark of purple into the small dip by the bone, his tongue smoothing over it. You should scold him, knowing you’ll have to cover it when you go into work next- but your thoughts are swiftly disoriented as he steps between your legs which part instinctually for him, his body moving flush to yours. You can feel the bulge of his arousal pressing into where your dress begins to hike up.

Need barrels into you harsher than you expected. With hasty fingers, you slide both of your hands down his body to his waist, hands working urgently at his belt. You barely get the buckle undone before his hands are covering yours, fingers dipping down to curl over your wrists and cease your actions.

He tuts, lifting his head from your neck.

“Not yet, honey. Wanna taste you first.”

You go to groan your objection, but it’s quickly swayed and swallowed by his mouth again, laying a prompt yet lingering kiss before he’s nipping at your chin, your jaw, working downwards. He lathes swift, small pecks of his lips over the curve of your chest, before following further down to your middle, his hand returning to your thigh, dragging beneath the hem of your dress beneath the slit, gliding upwards to your inner thigh, right by where you need him most.

He drops down more, his knees crouching down with a slight strain, and you notice the gentle wince that pulls at his face, the angle just not right. The table an inch too tall for him to comfortably try and settle between your thighs without an awkward position of having his body half-hunched and knees bent gracelessly, like some clumsy structure of a tower.

“You don’t have to crouch awkwardly, Castillo,” You inform through a rather breathless laugh, mirthful. Not mocking him, just finding his rushed enthusiasm endearing. You tug gently at his hair, coaxing him back enough for you to slide off the edge of the side-table so you’re pressed back against it again, ass squished against the wood. “I can just lean back on this.”

His eyes flutter up to yours with an inkling of vulnerability that’s quickly replaced with his own amusement as he comfortably settles onto his knees in front of you, now at the precise height to meet you.

“Great point. Underestimated my height,” He rumbles with gaiety, hiking one of your legs up so it’s resting half on the table, whilst looping your calf over his shoulder, opening you up further to him.

His fingers curl over through the fabric through the slit on your thigh, hiking up your dress enough to rumple it around your hips and give himself more access, both of his hands curling around your shins, before sliding up the expanse of your legs to your thighs with a reverent touch, like he’s sculpting a statue from just the rawness of his fingertips. He opens your dress like he’s unveiling a museum artifact, slowly opening the sheen curtains of the hem.

A nearly distraught sound falls from him.

“Jesus,” He breathes, eyes rounding, locked towards your covered core. Wrapped in a delicate black lace. His thumb swipes out to prod and stroke gently over the gusset he finds already damp, making his eyes flutter and his eyes drop with a ravenous look.

Your breath hitches, and his insatiable attention lifts up to you, locking his gaze on yours like an enchanting siren call.

“This was for him?” He mutters, calling back to your blind date who never showed up. He keeps his eyes on your face as he dips forward, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Not anymore,” You reply throatily, fingers carding through his hair, urging. He smiles, nearly smug, boastful. Then lowers his head and presses another kiss to you, this time right against the soaked fabric of your panties, over your soaked folds held beneath. His hands slide higher beneath your dress to your hips to hook his thumbs through the waistband of the lace, dragging your panties down your legs with meticulous slowness. He curls the moist material in his fist after hooking it over your heels, before he’s tucking it into the back pocket of his pants like a secret fantasy hidden away.

His eyes drop down to where you’re now revealed to him, hands returning to your inner thighs, widening the stance, slotting his broad shoulders between them. You hear his breath stumble as he takes in the sight of you; puffy folds drenched with need, clit basically begging for his attention, hole clenching around nothing like it’s already calling him directly to you.

“So pretty, darlin’,” He murmurs, his thumb stroking out to swipe along the edges of your lips, spreading them wider for him. You feel your heart loop around in a scattered carousel as he lowers his face completely between your legs, his tongue flicking out to flatten against your cunt, then smooth upwards in one slow, long line.

You gasp at the wet heat of his tongue, and he responds with a drawling groan, his hand wrapping tight around your thigh. Then he’s lapping more insistently at your dripping slit, collecting your juices on his tongue like it’s the sweet nectar of a maple tree. His mouth lifts, suckling your clit past his lips, his tongue stroking over it in a smoothing motion that makes you twitch, chest arching upwards with a sharp inhale.

His tongue dips down, experimentally sliding inside you, curling to taste the slick right off your fluttering walls, slick pooling on the muscle. The motion has a devastating whimper slipping from your lips, your hand tightening and yanking lightly at his hair. He moans into you, the sound reverberating right up your spine in a quiver and making your hips flex into his mouth, which he only responds to with an eager, nearly debauched slurp, his mouth covering the entirety of your pulsing core like it’s his personal alter.

He licks into you, maneuvering between plunging his tongue in and out of your hole and sucking against that sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your knees threaten to give out. His eyes slip closed with a fervent expression as he suckles against your clit, his hand coiling up from your thigh to work his middle finger into you, your tightness wrapping around the digit as your mouth parts pendulously, body eagerly accepting the stretch of his thick finger.

He begins to dip his finger in and out of you with strenuous slowness, letting you feel each drag of it along your walls, making you drip more shiny slick onto him, drooling down onto his palm. He swipes his tongue out to collect it right from the source, drawing a ragged moan from both of you as he experimentally plunges his tongue into you alongside his finger. The act is followed by an obscene squelch as he licks up your fallen juices, the curve of his nose pressing against your clit.

“Oh, shit, like that-” You puff, chest heaving upwards. You urge him impossibly closer to you with the end of your heel pressing into his shoulder blade. He avidly complies, his finger moving faster inside you, submerging his tongue and twirling it inside you, curling and lapping. Your hips twist as he finger fucks you, but he stills you with one hand against your hip, whilst the other dips down to flatten his palm against your mound, his thumb slicking out and circling tightly over your clit.

You jerk, a whine curdling up past your throat as the tendrils simmer through your pelvis, the triple stimulation of his finger fucking into you repeatedly alongside his tongue catching any of your dribbling slick, and the rub of his thumb over your bundle of nerves making you lean further back against the side-table.

"Tha's it. You gonna come for me?” He asks into your cunt, voice muffled into your skin, sending another shiver up along your spine whilst you nod earnestly, quickly, lips pursing with another impure moan.

He redoubles and amplifies his efforts, sinking his middle finger deeper inside you, fucking it into you with rougher, sharper movements designed to make you uncoil like thread around his digit. His tongue continues to cuff and curl inside you, licking at you. His thumb strokes acute, tight circles around your clit until your thighs are clenching around his head.

Your hips roll down eagerly, impaling yourself further onto his tongue and finger, eyes slipping closed as your rapture tightens through your system, burning up along your spine and lashing over your chest like a smoothing of velvet honey. You’re pushed and diving thirstily down into the looping ravines of bliss, gushing down onto his tongue, your hand fisting in his hair.

He makes a starved sound against you, his tongue eagerly pushing and swiping, drinking down everything you have to offer like it’s something holy, an amalgamation of sweetness and headiness he’s rapidly becoming addicted to.

You wrench at his hair more insistently as he continues his ministrations against you, although slower, savouring each drip of your slick onto his skin and tongue. You whimper as the overstimulation of the flick of his tongue has your hips tilting away, his thumb a steady pressure against your puffy clit. He grins against you, smug, but relents, lifting his face up from between your thighs and peering up towards you with a lopsided smirk, pleased and satisfied.

“Okay?” He asks raspingly, like his lower face isn’t smeared with your release, lips glossy with you. You don’t reply, instead curling both of your hands over his cheeks and practically dragging him back up your body, lifting him up from his sore knees until his mouth is pressing back to yours, fervent, like you’re starved. You lick into his mouth to taste yourself on his tongue, moaning against him.

His nose bumps against yours as the kiss escalates, famished and keen, his hand grabbing at your jaw to direct your face and deepen your movements, his slick middle finger smearing your want against your skin. His other hand grabs at your hip to steer you away from the side-table, leading you backwards to those two doors by the end of the hall, mumbling into your mouth. “Want you in my bed.”

You both stumble slightly, but quickly anchor yourselves, polished leather and the plastic of heels clacking against the linoleum floors. His hand on your jaw drops down to snake behind you and fiddle with the zipper of your dress until it eventually comes loose, dragging it down to the base of your spine. The glossy material slides off your frame, pooling at your ankles. He helps you step out of it, guiding you backwards through the doorway to where you assume is his bedroom, his lips never breaking away from yours.

He kicks off his shoes whilst you wrestle off your heels, dropping down a few short inches as his hands covetously travel over you, melding over your curves like he can’t trace enough of you in the time he has- which is the entire night. He unclasps your bra, discarding it carelessly to the side with a soft clatter, leaving you completely bare for him.

His large hands come to immediately cup your breasts, squeezing carefully, his thumbs swiping over your nipples that quickly pebble under his attention. You whimper softly, pulling your lips from his and pushing your chest up into his hold, head slinging back with a breathy sigh. He takes the initiative, dipping his head down and attacking along the underside of your jaw, his tongue prodding at that sensitive skin behind your ear.

It’s heady, potent, a mix of heavy breaths and mingled want clashing into a nearly violent need. A different kind of greed than that of desire for wealth, desire for love or affection- but instead something rawer. Unbridled, weighty lust.

You barely get a glance around the costly expanse of his bedroom as you’re grabbing at his shoulders, directing him in a pivot until the back of his knees hit the edge of his king-sized mattress. You gently yet imperatively shove him back onto his bed, the silk sheets shifting with his weight as he lands back against them, his arms falling away from you.

He moves further up the pillows as you climb up onto the prodigious bed to join him, thighs framing his waist. His eyes draw up your bare frame towards you, inky black, his pupils swallowing out the brown of his irises almost completely in the soft lighting and in the consummation of his want.

His hands settle around your waist, squeezing as you dip down to press a swift kiss against his lips, your breasts squishing against his chest whilst your fingers slide down and tangle with his half-open belt, looping it finally through the fabric, before flicking it to the side. You nibble at his bottom lip before pulling away and unbuttoning his pants, zipping them down. You slide down briefly to urge and tug the fabric away from his legs, whilst he takes measure to tug his long-sleeved top over his head.

You crawl back over him, legs straddling his hips, your hands dropping to splay over the broad, warmth expanse of his exposed chest, his body left in just his boxers beneath you, an inviting happy trail of darkened brown hair littered above the waistband. Licentiously, you roll your hips down into him, dragging the soaked state of your core over the bulge of his boxers, making his cock twitch beneath the fabric, a groan rumbling from his chest.

“Fuck, honey,” He huffs, head falling back into the pillows, hands gripping your waist as you move against him in a teasing downwards grind, a carefully precise rhythm. “Can’t wait to have that sweet little cunt wrapped around me.”

You bite down against your swollen bottom lip, body straining with arousal, and hook your fingers through the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his thighs, swiping them off his legs. Your throat tightens. His cock, thick and throbbing, slaps up against his stomach, the tip red and engorged, dripping a bead of translucent pre-come onto his belly, his balls full and heavy between his thighs. He keeps his gaze settled on you as you gawk like a renaissance painting; his eyes needy, dark, hungry. Unrestrained.

You exhale shakily, hand gliding down to curl around the base of him, manicured nails delicately smoothing over the sensitive, soft skin. You give him the smallest pump with your fist loosely clenched, and his cock twitches in your grip, hipbones flexing beneath you.

“Gotta be honest. M’ not gonna last if you tease me like that, baby,” He rasps sincerely, lips spreading with a rugged exhale like he’s struggling to contain himself and this bubbling need threatening to boil over between you. The confession only sends electrified wire sizzling along your veins in the form of arousal, and you nod in acknowledgement quickly, lifting your hips. You squeeze gently at the base of him, angling his cock until it’s nudging against your entrance.

“There you go,” He breathes, exhaling out through his nostrils, whilst you tilt your hips slightly, slowly sinking down onto his thickness. Your mouth dries at the sheer size of him stretching your clenching walls, jaw falling slack as your hips roll, determinedly swaying down until he’s entirely sheathed inside you to the hilt. You both sound a simultaneous groan of thrill, his brows pinched with concentration as he gives you time to adjust, your hips continuing to absently swirl in circles as the prior dull pain swiftly bleeds out into pleasure, hooking into the base of your spine like a hook.

His jaw works in a grating clench when you tighten around him as you slowly lift your hips, as though your body is trying to keep him inside you. You raise until just his tip is notched inside you, before you’re sinking back down. Slow, steady, his cock curving against the deepest part of you, nudging against that soft, sensitive place that makes your eyes roll back into your skull.

You gradually begin to increase the pace, elevating your hips just to drop back down on him, repeatedly stretching yourself over his girth. His gaze hops over you like he doesn’t know where to settle his attention on; your tits bouncing with your steady pace, the slick of his cock as he’s sheathed in and out of your gripping pussy, folds spreading around him, the inviting line of your neck pulsing as your hips roll. He finally settles on your face, captivated in watching the way your eyes twist with bliss, pleasure striking up along your body, your thighs squeezing around his waist.

“Fuck.. look at you,” He pants, his hands curling tighter around your waist, aiding you, guiding your hips into a slightly firmer tempo. “Look like a goddess on top of me. Like a bloody gift sent just for me.”

You whimper, nodding quickly, cunt squeezing around him, egging him on.

“So pretty taking this cock,” He mumbles mindlessly, eyes drawing to watch where you take him again, your inner thighs quivering. Your fingers curl against his chest, nails digging soft, crescent moons into his skin as you heave yourself up, before slamming down harsher, both of you moaning wantonly at the pressure. Your ass begins to slap wetly back onto his thighs as you rise and fall quickly, your back arching each time his cockhead brushes and prods into your G-spot.

“Other guy doesn’t know what he missed out on,” Harry husks, eyes drawing a searing line up your body as if he’s mapping you out, committing you to memory. His hips sway, grinding himself up to meet your repeated dropping motions, rolling himself flush into you each time. He chuckles, the noise strained with pleasure. “I can’t say I’m that sympathetic for him, though.”

His hands smooth further up along your curves, before he’s hiking himself up enough to wrap his arms around your body, your chest arching into his. You buck down into him, his face burying against the crook of your neck, breathing hot and rasped against your skin, your pulse fluttering frantically beneath it, tensing with each shameless moan that crawls out from your throat.

“Get it all to myself, huh?” He mumbles, sucking against that spot he left on your collarbone earlier, darkening it further, the bruise blooming with red and violet, like a stain against your skin you currently wear with unadulterated pride. Your cunt makes a vulgar, moist squelching sound around him as you jerk yourself onto his cock, riding his lap with a lacerating wildness.

“Yes, baby, fuck- like that,” He moans, tilting his head back to peer up at you, his blackened-out eyes shimmering with lust and something bordering on worship. “S’ all for me, yeah?”

“Mhmm- yes, all you,” You agree haplessly, your tits jerking with your body as you bounce on his dick, chasing that twist you already feel pulverising and chewing at the frayed edges of your burning bliss.

His hand dips down between you, the tips of his fingers consciously rubbing sternly over the engorged swell of your sensitive clit that’s peeking out beneath the hood. You jolt at the added stimulation, pace stumbling, and Harry takes the chance to curl his robust arms tighter around your frame, and before you can process his movement, your vision is whirling in a blinded blur as he flips you both, his cock still impaled in you. He lowers you down into the cushiony comfort of the mattress, silk spilling out around your head.

“You’ve had your turn,” He says with a crooked smirk, dipping his head down to bite gently at the edge of your chin. You go to grumble in petulant protest, but he cuts the sound off from the tip of your tongue with an unyielding, borderline harsh thrust into you, silencing you with his cock.

He repeats the action, slower this time, letting you feel the ridge and veins of his length, sliding through your slick, sensitive walls. Grinding down into you, that coarse thatch of curls at the base of him that’s slowly greying rubbing against your swollen clit peeking out from beneath the hood. You sound a rapturous, libidinous moan, head falling back into the pillows and chest arching upwards with a heave.

His hips jerk at the sight, before restraint snaps like a thread untying, the chain unsnapping that shielded the rabid dog to the pillar. He slams into you, hips slapping wetly against yours, cock plunging into you with brisk speed, firm.

“Yeah, you can take it, can’t you baby?” He moans in a gruff rumble, a sheen of sweat tilting over his temple. “So fuckin’ good. Feel so good wrapped around me- better than I imagined.”

You whimper, arms looping beneath his, hands curling over to his back. You dig your nails deeper into his skin than you meant to, leaving dim, red marks down the length of his back. But he doesn’t seem deterred- if anything, it spurs him on to pound into you swifter, relentless.

“So sweet and wet,” He mumbles more to himself than you, fucking you into his mattress. “Dripping all over my cock, aren’t you?”

His hasty, muttered questions are rhetoric, slipping from his lips like the drip of honey, curdling with sweetness. You couldn’t think to answer even if you wanted to anyways, shameless moans pouring from you in tumbling sways of bliss, body sliding up the bed with each jackhammering thrust of his hips.

You squeeze around him, legs loosely splayed wide for him to pummel into you, cunt slick and hot around his throbbing length, your face flushed and hair splaying widely around your head on his pillows. His hands settle on either side of your head, his eyes settling on yours intensely as his hips swing into yours, his eyebrows saddled with focus, dense breaths and groans drawing out of him. His chest shines with a thin line of sweat, his biceps flexing and the veins in his forearms bulging as he bucks himself forward, fucking you ruthlessly.

It’s shameless, a tangle of bodies and limbs that intertwine like second nature, like your frames automatically blend into each other. As if you hadn’t just met tonight, starting as strangers when you were both meant to grovel around in your own solitary. As if you were both molded to be here; with you beneath him, his cock hammering into your pulsating hole.

“Fuck, m’ not gonna last much longer,” He admits, glancing down between you to watch where your abdomen rolls to grind your hips up into his sharp, plunging thrusts. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

Your mouth feels numb, eyes glazed over with the pleasure that curdles along you. But you nod eagerly, nails digging further into his flesh. He pants, using the last of his renowned energy to buck harder into you, chasing you both to those releases burning through your blood, sizzling to an unstoppable height before it captures the pair of you.

His head drops down, forehead pressing to yours, your mingled noises tangling in the heated air between your mouths.

“Go on, honey. Come for me. Let me feel you squeezing me,” He mutters frantically, and his mumbled coaxing that rasps past your ears are the final length that stretches before that release curls around your veins, splashing like liquid ecstasy through you. Your mouth catches open in a noiseless whine, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Your thighs clamp around his waist, cunt tightening around him before spasming, juices slicking over him in streams, dripping down to his balls and smearing each time they slap against the curve of your ass. He sounds a groan that sounds pained, his hips stuttering in their pace as your walls squeeze and flutter like they’re trying to milk him of everything he’s worth.

“Fuck. That’s it, that’s it, so good for me-” He groans jarringly whilst you mewl hopelessly, hips bucking up. His thrusts turn erratic, uncoordinated as he unceremoniously chases his own orgasm, slamming down into you with propelling hips, sinful, the force staggering.

His mouth pinches in effort as your cunt slicks another gush around him, and with a hiss of restraint, he pulls himself out of your wet embrace at the last moment. His hand hastily dipping down to wrap around himself, length soaked and throbbing. He barely pumps himself once before his thighs are locking up, a trembling moan that whisks off into a whimper as the bliss hits him squarely in the gut, and his cock is jumping in his hold, ropes of thick white painting over your stomach in ropes of heat, nearly reaching your breasts.

You squirm, limbs aching, dipping your chin down towards your chest to see where he weakly strokes over his cock to milk out the last of his come, which dribbles down to your mound, warm and smooth and sticky.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the hoarse panting of your shared breaths as you both reel through the after effects, foreheads still pressed together. Your eyes flutter closed, body sated, a content afterglow burning low through you. You feel him shift above you, dipping his hand down to your stomach.

Slowly, reverently in a way that feels nearly pious, he swipes a thick finger through the layer of his come on your belly, smearing it over your skin and collecting it on the pad of his digit. And then-

He’s carefully lifting it up between your warm bodies to your parted, swollen mouth. His finger taps softly against your bottom lip, coaxing your eyes open to meet his. They’re still dark, inky, but there’s a softer kind of benevolence swimming through them now, tender.

You swipe your tongue out to collect his come from the tip of his finger, letting your jaw fall slack as he guides it into your mouth. You moan softly at the salty taste of him, stifled as you curl your lips around his finger, sucking the essence of his release right from his skin. You hear his breath hitch as he laboriously slides his finger out again, swiping over your bottom lip. A beat passes before he’s dipping down and pressing his mouth to yours, tasting himself on you.

The kiss is delicate, still amorous but with a fondness burning through it. He pulls back, his tongue carefully swiping over his lower lip like he’s relishing the flavour of both of you combined, your need like a physical, potent taste.

He gives you an unhurried, warm smile, before his hefty body is moving from atop you, and he’s dragging himself off the bed with strained, exhausted movements. You exhale shakily into the slightly humid air, your skin gradually cooling as he pads into the connected ensuite. You hear the tap running as the room lulls around you, head drooping to the side, eyelids feeling heavy.

He returns a moment later, crawling to your side. You almost jolt as the warmth of a damp washcloth meets your sensitive skin. He prods it gently over your stomach, cleaning his own release from you, padding it gently against your sore, puffy core. His movements are nothing short of reverent.

He carelessly chucks the rag onto the floor, before he’s maneuvering your body onto your side, settling down behind you, his brawny arm curling around your waist, your arms tucking in front of you. His fingers brush against your wrist as his body presses into yours from behind, broad and assured.

For a while, neither of you speak, simply relishing in the afterglow that drapes over you like a blanket, especially after Harry moves the glossy silk of the sheet over the two of you, the coolness inviting on your warm skin. Consoling, he presses a slow kiss against the curve of your shoulder from behind.

“You know, I’d like to invest further in this, if you’d be so kind as to allow me,” He murmurs into your skin, careful but unhesitant in his decision. There’s a tinge of amusement intertwined with his tone at the inane ridiculousness of the continued jesting metaphors of a business transaction being shared between you.

“What are you offering?” You whisper back into the dull smoothness of his lavish bedroom, a knowing smile lilting up the corner of your lips. You feel his own mouth upturn in a grin against you.

“A second date. If you want it.”

You’re gladdened by the fact he can’t entirely see your face so you can shield the giddy, elated expression that tilts over your expression. Your heart thumping with a vertiginous stutter at the thought of going out on another date with Harry, to share precious time with him again.

Time where you’re both aren’t under the restraints and tensions of your jobs, where you can relish in the taste of each other, the feel of each other, the simpleness of comfort found within tenderness and lasting looks. A time in which you don’t have to be perfect- you can just be.

You tilt your head back, coaxing his face into the crook of your neck, hearing him inhale softly as he breathes you in, the scent of sex and something softer lingering in the air.

“That can definitely be arranged,” You answer, coyness blooming in your voice, but settled with an undeniable soft rawness. His arms tighten gently around you, the both of you ravelled in the other in his large bed, the milk-dipped moon waving somewhere high above the heights of colossal towers that loom like spires, the scintillating but gentle whisk of the city lights peeking into the room, something like nectar settled on the tips of your tongue, saccharine and honeyed, settling into the air like promise.

And now you think; when you return to work, maybe you actually will thank Rebecca for convincing you to go on that blind date.

“But I have infinite tenderness for you. I always will. All my life long.” - Blue Is the Warmest Color (2013)

Comments, reblogs and feedback are so gratefully appreciated! I’m slowly starting a tag list, so if you’d like to be added, let me know.

[missadangel]

⊱ AMOR MEUS AETERNUS ⊰

(Marcus Acacius x Ofc)

IV. Matrimonium

prev chapter series masterlist next chapter

Chapter Summary:  Here comes the -unfortunate time-traveller- bride! Ceremony: check, Applause: check, Sacrifice: check, Wedding band: check, Love: nah, Desire: unknown Groom: not leaving unlike the previous one Bride: thinking about escaping. Chapter W. Count and warnings: 11k; denial of feelings, blood, mention about sex, mention about virginity, a little fluff, angst injury, romantic comedy, ancient rome, using drugs (tranquilizer), anxiety attacks, violence, waxing, power imbalance, marriage, wedding, wedding night discussion, embarrasment, alcohol consumption. authors note: Pronuba: The Pronuba, the matron of honor, was still married to her first husband. She is univira, a one-man woman. Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Reader (Her name is Rose, and her hair is dyed) Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI, Smut General Warnings: Harsh, cold, grumpy Marcus, and the reader is NOT innocent a little bitchy, Lucilla is mean, Lucius is a jerk(but falls in love with reader), its Septimius Severus' era but Geta and Caracalla are the prince of Rome, time travel, modern-ancient era travels, falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, oral sex (both f&m receiving), all sex, dirty talk, gladiators, battle, war, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury, forced marriage, arranged marriage, sexism, haters to lovers, first love, angst, vestal virgins, vestal priestesses, age gap; reader is 25 Marcus is 42, reincarnation my masterlist

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Theme....

"Julius, are you trying to kill me?"

He looked at you, eyes wide, still glistening with tears though. "Are you well?"

You stood up angrily, still reeling from the heartbreaking story he had just shared. "What exactly was the purpose of telling me all this? Because I'm about to have an anxiety attack." Your hands trembled.

"My apologies. I wanted you to understand the weight of my brother's burdens and the struggles he faces regarding this union—similar to yours."

"I get it; he’s still got that girl in his heart. But honestly, I don’t care. It’s not a real marriage, is it? By the time I get back, it’ll all be over—end of story. I should take my pill now or I won’t be able to sleep tonight due to nightmares." You said, then turned to leave, but he followed. You raised your hand to stop him, needed to be alone—just you and your pill, your best friend.

Trying to push thoughts from your mind as you walked through the dimly lit courtyard towards the stairs was a challenge. Tension gripped you again, a reminder of how cruel this ancient world can be, and you had no clue when you’d escape this nightmare. Your head spun as you climbed the stairs; you had to take your pill, and fast.

Lost in the darkness, your senses dulled by anxiety, you didn’t notice Marcus standing on the balustrade ahead. He noticed you, but just watched you walk by, still in shock and uncertain about what to do.

Upon entering your room, your eyes immediately searched for your bag.

There it was, on the bed. You unzipped it quickly, reaching for your medicine and popping one into your mouth. When you stood to grab the water from the table, you clumsily bumped your knee on the chair.

Yes, the same knee you had hurt earlier.

“Ah, damn!” You plopped onto the bed, lifting the hem of your dress. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding a bit. You thought you should apply some hand cream to it; after all, there was no pharmacy around. 

“Rosa?”

Startled by Marcus’ voice, you looked up, and he froze at the sight. Oh, right, your legs were exposed again. He averted his gaze, but not before noticing your wound.

"How can you just barge into my room like that?"

"I heard your voice. Are you hurt?" he asked, turning his head slowly, his attention fixating on your knee.

"Why? Are you worried about me now? I thought you came to cut out my tongue."

He exhaled sharply and faced you. "Forgive me, Rosa. I was a bit angry."

"A bit?"

He stepped closer, reaching out to touch your knee, but you instinctively pulled back. “Let me see,” he said, sitting beside you and gently touching your knee. "How did this happen?"

What was going on?

Why was he acting so tender all of a sudden?

"I fell, and Lucius carried me here. Oh right, you didn't bother to ask; you preferred to threaten me instead," you said sarcastically.

"Lucius," he murmured. "Are you interested in him?" His tone sharpened, hinting at something deeper.

Puzzled by his reaction, you decided to tease him. "I don't know; he’s a handsome man."

His brow furrowed. "Keep that opinion to yourself. You’re about to be married."

Ignoring his awkard-possessive tone, you reached for your bag. "Can you hand me my bag? I need some cream for my knee."

He obeyed, passing you your bag while watching intently. His gaze traveled over your face, still stunned by the revelation from earlier. He was trying to reconcile the features of the woman he loved, finding uncanny resemblances in you that sent his mind spiraling.

So this is how she would have looked like if… if they hadn’t taken her from me, he thought.

The same frown line etched on your forehead, the delicate slant of your eyes, your long, lush eyelashes framing your gaze, your perfectly sculpted nose, and, most strikingly, your lips.

Those lips.

They were exactly the same.

Once again, he was taken aback.

How had he not noticed before?

Just the sight of your lips pulled him back into treasured memories, reminding him of their first kiss—a fleeting moment that was forever seared into his mind. So entranced by your lips, he nearly leaned in to kiss you.

Almost.

“Well, I guess this will do,” you said, slipping the cream back into your bag.

Your voice jolted him from his reverie. “That photo,” he said, peering into your bag with curiosity.

“Which one?” You reached into your wallet. “Oh, this one? It’s an old picture of me as a kid. Look, I was really young here—about 11 or 12—and Liz was just five. It was her birthday.” You sighed, gazing at the photo. It held a different meaning for both of you. “I miss her so much,” you whispered.

“Your family... you mentioned that your mother has passed away and that your father is currently experiencing health issues. Is there anyone else in your family?” His serious tone caught you off guard; he seemed genuinely interested, not just asking out of politeness.

“My dad’s in the hospital, in a coma, but I guess you wouldn’t really understand what that means. I have an aunt, but we’re not on the best terms. Why do you ask?”

“Have you always lived in Rome?”

“What’s with the sudden barrage of questions?”

He remained silent, clearly waiting for your response.

“Well, no, I was very young when we moved to Italy from the States— that’s where I was born.”

“States?”

Oh right, how could he know? America hadn’t even been discovered yet; it was still thousands of years away.

“Another... well, another country. Never mind, it’s a long story. I’m not sure I can explain it to you, and honestly, I don’t think you’re ready to hear it.”

You realized he seemed lost in thought, and you wondered what was going through his mind. You broke the silence. “Okay, your turn to answer, Mr. General. Julius said..."

'that the woman you loved when you were younger had a tragic end.'

How could you have said that to him?

The thought twisted in your mind; you could scarcely bear to face it yourself.

“What did he say?”

You took a moment to gather yourself. “Well, he said you visited that place I mentioned. Is that true? Did you go there?”

Nice save.

He looked you square in the eye and stood up. “I appreciate that you informed me,” he said, leaving you bewildered.

“What does that mean—yes or no?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with that matter now. The wedding is the day after tomorrow. Have some rest. Sleep well, Rosa.” He turned and walked out.

“The day after tomorrow?” Frustrated, you grabbed the pillow and hurled it at the door. “'Have some rest,' you say? You rest!” you shouted as you flopped onto the bed in a fury. “Please, God, help me get back home.”

It was one of those mornings again—heavy, disorienting, melancholic.

Those mornings when you open your eyes and instantly realize that both the place and time you occupy no longer feel familiar. A wave of emotions crashing over—disappointment, longing, a sense of confinement, anger...

And then there’s that other emotion, one that seems to be trying to break through: acceptance.

But surrendering isn’t an option.

No matter what happens, you tell yourself you won’t despair; you’ll find your way back.

You know you will.

Because the moment you let go, the moment you lose hope, this harsh and unforgiving world would consume you whole. You didn’t fit in here; you felt like a puzzle piece that doesn’t belong.

You pulled your phone out of your bag and turned it on, having a sinking feeling when you saw the battery down to 17%.

Just like your hopes, just like your patience, it was wearing thin.

If that weren’t enough, what awaited you in the courtyard with Julius and the others tested your limits further.

"What do you mean I have to stay in another house?" you exclaimed, your voice bouncing off the walls of the courtyard.

Julius placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to soothe your rising frustration. "Please calm down. You only have to stay for tonight."

Balbina lounged in her usual spot, seemingly relishing your discontent, while Lydia stood nearby, smiling awkwardly. "Since you're an outlander, allow me to explain," Balbina started, her tone dripping with condescension. "According to Roman law, the wedding occurs in the bride's home. As patricians, we must adhere to this tradition. Since you don't belong to the patrician class, you might not be familiar with this terms."

"She will be part of our class upon her marriage to my brother," Julius stated, maintaining a respectful tone. He then presented you with a meticulously crafted leather-bound scroll. "This document signifies your new status; you are now a Roman citizen."

You took the document, untying the thread that bound it, and opened it. All you recognized was your name, along with the word 'Roman.' Beneath your name was the seal of Emperor Severus, complete with his likeness. “Well, my Latin isn't great, but is this some kind of identification like an ID?”

“Indeed, it is,” he replied with a smile.

“But why do I have to stay in another house?”

“It’s part of the ritual. You must be brought from the bride's house to the groom's house.”

“Fine, but my house...” -is in Rome in the year 2025.

"You required to stay at Claudia’s house." Balbina instructed, not looking at you. "Julius, take her there at once. We have much preparation to undertake here already."

Julius nodded and turned to you. "If you're ready, we need to leave now."

As you walked to the garden together, ensuring you were away from others, you said, “Julius, please, I don’t want to go. I’m still trying to adjust to this place.”

“You’ll only be there for one night.”

“Where’s Marcus? Does he know about this?"

“He left early for preparations. He chose Claudia’s house—it’s trustworthy and conveniently close to our house. Remember, the law dictates that the wedding must take place at that house, you need to emerge there as the bride, as if the daughter of that house. Marriages within the same family are forbidden, simply as weddings cannot occur in the groom's house.”

“A mere formality, is it?” you muttered, grimacing. Suddenly stopping in your tracks, you added with anxiety, “My bag, I left it in the room.”

“Leave it,” he said as he helped you into the carriage. “Your belongings will be moved to my brother’s chambers tonight, along with your dowry.”

“Dowry?”

He settled next to you in the carriage. “As I mentioned, Marcus is busy with the arrangements.”

It seemed that Marcus had shouldered the burden of all wedding arrangements, paying out of his own budget. Julius had made it clear from the outset that such an approach was rather atypical.

“Your mother, Balbina, asked me to stay in another house to avoid dealing with the wedding preparations she didn't want any part of, right?” you said.

Julius was silent, and you knew that meant yes.

"I'm not surprised," you replied, "after all, she doesn’t like me. But I thought Marcus was the head of the family, that he was in charge. Apparently not, huh?"

Julius chuckled lightly. “You still don’t seem to grasp the seriousness and significance of the situation.”

"What do you mean?"

"You are marrying the head of the Acacius family, and general of Rome. Just imagine how hard this must be for my mother. Soon, you’ll be addressed as 'domina' in the villa. Can you grasp that now?"

You paused, realizing the gravity of his words; you never fully acknowledged how important this was. “But I didn’t ask for that.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Rosa, but your desires are beside the point. What truly matters is what my brother wants. This is the strongest way he can protect you, even from my mother.”

He was kinda right; if you compared it to the modern day, 2025, Marcus was akin to the top soldier in the army, something like a chief of staff. His wife would be both important and respected.

Yet, despite all that, it was an arranged marriage, and the bride had zero desire to marry.

None whatsoever.

The villa where Lady Claudia lived was indeed close by. It was smaller than Marcus’s but still lovely—typical for a Roman villa, modest yet charming. You felt a knot of anxiety in your stomach; staying there even for one night seemed unbearable. As you entered the courtyard, the buzz of activity caught your attention.

Slaves—poor souls—were dashing around: some were decorating with white flowers, others carried trays, while still more were busy cleaning the upper floors. It was a pre-wedding frenzy...

All for you.

Great.

When you spotted a slave who had dropped a cup while rushing along with a tray, you quickly picked it up for him. His eyes widened in surprise, and he bowed his head in gratitude before hastening back to his tasks.

“Julius.”

A woman’s voice called out moments later.

Julius replied, “Lady Claudia.”

At first, you brushed off the similarities in her voice; it had been over a decade since you had last heard it. But as you turned to look at her, shock coursed through you. Lady Claudia’s face mirrored your mother’s—warm smile intact. As she drew nearer, your body trembled, and your heart raced.

The peaceful, lifeless visage you had seen at the funeral was now alive and smiling again. After seeing your father's doppelganger, this was truly mind-blowing.

You covered your mouth, stifling a sob.

"Rosa?" Julius’s voice dripped with concern.

Claudia frowned, her expression a mix of confusion and worry. “Are you well, dear?”

You forced yourself to regain composure, feeling as if you were trying to escape from an invisible weight pressing down on you. "I- I am..." you stammered, struggling to find the right words.

Julius placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "What’s the matter, Rosa?"

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Claudia. “Forgive me, I'm just confused. You resemble my mother, whom I lost years ago.”

Claudia smiled softly. "How unfortunate. Please accept my condolences."

Oh, she seemed like a better person than your dad's evil twin.

Overcome by a sudden yearning, you hesitated but then mustered the courage to ask, “Can I hug you?”

The slaves around looked surprised, but Claudia nodded and opened her arms. You embraced her tightly, closing your eyes and burying your head in her shoulder, filled with longing. Claudia wrapped her arms around you, taken aback by the warmth of your affection. "You loved your mother very much, I can tell." You nodded, sniffling, still resting against her. “I hope you meet her again in another life.”

Oh well, that's precisely what is happening now.

Suddenly realizing you were clinging to her a bit too tightly, you pulled back and managed a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

Claudia returned the smile. "That was a warmer greeting than I expected, wouldn’t you agree, Ennius?"

You noticed a young boy beside her looking at you with judgement. He didn’t resemble anyone you recognized, hopefully. “I’d call it slightly inappropriate, Mother.”

“Now, now, my son. Remember, she’s a woman about to marry General Acacius—show some respect. Now, come, dear, there’s much to do.”

“I must take my leave,” Julius said, glancing at you. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You waved goodbye. "See you."

Normally, you would be in a panic right now—left alone in a place surrounded by strangers. But Claudia reminded you of your mother, not only in appearance but also in her behavior. It was almost enough to make you feel at ease, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from her.

As the hours slipped away, a growing sense of unease began to creep into you while Claudia passionately delved into the traditions surrounding a Roman bride. She described it in vivid detail, almost as if you were her own daughter. Although your grasp of history equipped you with knowledge, nothing compared to experiencing these customs firsthand.

By evening, when the slaves arrived carrying large shells look like plates, you asked Claudia about the sticky substance they held, her response left you stunned.

“Beeswax,” she explained. “Now, undress, please.”

You instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. “I don’t have any unwanted hair, I swear.” You lifted your skirts to show your smooth legs, a result of your regular laser hair removal sessions.

"I insist on seeing the rest of you," she said firmly.

At her command, the slaves began to undress you, treating your body with the indifference of peeling fruit. Despite their casual handling, you couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort; thankfully, Claudia exuded a maternal aura. When she glanced at your armpits and noted the absence of hair -due to the laser treatments-, she couldn’t help but express surprise. However, the pubic area was another story. You had let that grow a bit over the weeks, and Claudia’s solemn words echoed in your ears: “We must remove the hair here.”

“But I usually use a razor for that area; my skin is too sensitive for laser treatment, and waxing, I can't even think of it,” you protested.

She didn’t seem to hear you, -probably didn't understand what were you saying- and you flushed with embarrassment as the slaves guided you to sit on the lectus. “I should’ve just done it myself,” you muttered, remembering the sting of waxing in a sensitive area from a previous experience.

Shaking slightly with trepidation, you settled in. One slave held your arms while another nudged your legs apart, and a third applied the honey-scented wax to your skin, coating the hair with it.

Claudia leaned back, chuckling at your plight. “Stay still, dear. You’re a Roman lady now; all the hair must be removed. Agreed?”

Your answer was nothing short of a shrill scream, piercing the quiet, startling any birds perched nearby on the balcony.

Once the brutal hair removal was complete, pain pulsed through you, mixing with a simmering frustration aimed at Marcus. “This is all your fault, Marcus; I hate you,” you grumbled. Slaves girls and Claudia quietly laughed while leaving you alone to nurse your throbbing discomfort.

Thinking twice, maybe you didn't like Claudia that much.

As dusk settled in, you took a moment to gaze from the balcony of your new room in that villa. Earlier, you had a special pre-wedding bath in the private bathhouse, accompanied by Claudia's advice for your wedding night, which made your face turn red from embarrassment. Below, the slaves still scurried about, busy with their tasks, just as they had been all morning. The area they waxed was still a bit sore, but thankfully, Claudia, being the considerate woman she was, had sent you some soothing oil to ease the discomfort.

You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the women of this era.

When some of the slave girls entered to apply the soothing oil for you, you thanked them gratefully. It worked somehow.

"My lady," one of them giggled, "Maybe you could ask the general to help ease your pain tomorrow night when you’re alone together.”

Confused, you asked, “How?” as you rose from the lectus.

Their laughter rang out, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you realized the implication of their words.

“Don’t you girls have something better to do?” you scolded them.

They bowed their heads and apologized, still snickering as they left the room.

Once they were gone, you felt your blush deepen at the thoughts they had put in your head.

Damn estrogen.

This marriage was a sham after all; why were you feeling so anxious?

Seeking some fresh air, you made your way to the courtyard. You found a quiet corner away from the noise of the slaves and the chatter surrounding you, retreating to one of the gardens.

A wave of melancholy washed over you; you were off your anxiety pills and struggling to believe this was actually happening. Just a few weeks ago, if someone had told you that you’d be kidnapped to ancient Rome and thrust into marriage, you would have laughed until it hurt.

Yet now, you were living through this absurdity, constantly wondering, 'Why me?'

Looking up at the sky, you noted the crescent moon—perhaps two weeks until the full moon? You hoped to find a way back home then.

Suddenly, a crunching sound drew your attention. Before you could react, a large hand clamped over your mouth. You turned to see Lucius and his intense blue eyes signaling for silence.

He slowly removed his hand.

“What are you doing here? Why are you sneaking around?”

He was wearing a black robe. “I came to take you away from here.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What? What do you mean?”

“I can see that marrying him isn't what you truly want. Let me help you.”

“How can you help?”

“I’m heading out of Rome tonight. I can take you back to your family, your homeland. I promise, I’ll make sure you arrive safely,” he urged, determination flashing in his gaze.

You felt a mix of emotions. “Oh, Lucius, if it were only that simple.”

“Where does your family live? No distance is too great for me. I will find a way to take you there."

Confusion clouded your thoughts. “Lucius, why would you do this for me?”

His gaze dropped to your lips as he took a deep breath. “I…” he hesitated. “You’ve changed something in me. I think I’m in love with you,” he confessed with a grin.

“What? You must be joking. Why would you fall for me? Surely, you have plenty of women around,” you countered.

He shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone like you. But that’s not why I’m offering to help. I am here because Acacius is forcing you into this marriage. I can’t allow it.”

With a heavy sigh, you conceded, “Lucius, you need to understand—I appreciate your offer, but I can’t accept. Marcus isn’t forcing me. I want to marry him,” you lied, hoping to sound convincing. After all, Marcus was your only ally in this unfamiliar world, even if he made you furious.

“Are you certain, Rosa? If it’s protection you seek, I can give that to you.”

You shook your head, your gaze steady. “I have faith in Marcus to look after me. He has promised to reunite me with my family someday. Despite the way he can irritate me at times, he’s a man of his word.”

“But you won’t find happiness with him," he murmured.

“Why are you leaving, by the way?” you asked, changing the subject.

His expression turned serious. “Things might get complicated soon. I need to leave before it does, much like I’ve done before. My whole life has been a series of escapes anyway.”

“Why?”

He let out a sad laugh. “Because I’m an unfortunate, damned prince of Rome.”

He touched your cheek, and you swallowed hard, feeling a strange connection between you. “I hope you find happiness, flower. Take care until we meet again.”

Suddenly, he leaned in and pressed a brief, light kiss on your lips. You barely had time to react before he slipped away into the darkness, lost among the trees and shadows. You stood there, stunned, your lips lingering in shock as you blinked away the moment.

As the morning sun poured into your new room, a battalion of slave girls invaded, bustling in with an eager excitement that danced in the air. One girl flung the thick curtains wide, allowing a cascade of golden sunlight to spill into the space, while another approached with the most exquisite wedding dress, placing it delicately upon the bed like a treasure awaiting its moment. A third girl laid down a long, ethereal tulle in shades of soft yellow and orange, and yet another carefully peeled back the sheet, revealing you to the ancient world once more.

Today, as the bride, you were the center of attention, and all eyes would be on you.

The time traveler bride.

The girls began to dress you in a flowing white dress when Claudia entered the room. Instinctively, you smiled at her. She returned your smile warmly and tenderly touched your cheek. “Rosa, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you, Lady Claudia,” you replied.

“Do you feel ready?” she asked.

“For what?” you said, smoothing the hem of your dress.

She laughed gently. “It’s your wedding day, dear.”

"Oh, right,” you said, nodding, trying to mask the tumult of emotions swirling within you. You didn’t want her to sense your unease.

Claudia placed her hands on your shoulders. “I don’t know what you feel about him, but I’ve known General Acacius since he was young. He’s a good man, and I’m certain he will treat you well.”

“I guess he is,” you said, pursing your lips. You wanted the day to be over as soon as possible.

It felt like you were reliving a bad dream.Your previous wedding ended with the groom leaving you at the altar, but now it feels like you want to leave the groom this time.

You wished for a way out, but there was none.

As your hair was braided, the other slave girls announced the arrival of the guests. Soft music and quiet chatter came from downstairs. Soon, they informed you that the general and his family arrived. The girls placed the long, yellowish veil on your head, so long that you had to twist it around your arm a few times. Worse still, it obscured your vision.

“Am I really supposed to wear this all day?”

Claudia chuckled. “Have you forgotten already? Your husband will lift your veil when you reach his home. But first, he’ll unveil your face to kiss you.”

The word “husband” hit you like a punch to the gut.

Claudia took your arm as you made your way down the stairs, and the music shifted to a slower tempo, the atmosphere becoming lighter. As she had mentioned, she was taking you to your groom. It was an ancient ceremony, surprisingly representing a modern one: the groom waits by the priest while the bride walks through the guests.

The only difference was that this was ancient Rome.

You sighed, wondering what Lizzie would say if she saw you like this. She’d probably laugh a lot. Smiling to yourself, realizing you had many stories to share when you returned home.

As you approached Marcus, thoughts began to spiral in your mind. What if you couldn’t go back? What if you were destined to live here forever as his wife?

How could you endure this sham of a marriage?

Would you ever come to love him?

Would he ever soften his hardened demeanor?

If you considered things from the perspective of an ordinary woman living in this era—not as a time traveler—perhaps you could find something to appreciate in him or love him. He was handsome and, despite his tough exterior, a really good man.

But you still couldn’t forgive him. He had pulled you into this situation and forced you to marry him. No matter his reasons, it felt wrong. He still had someone else in his heart, and you had no feelings for him that would ever change.

You stood directly in front of him, dismissing the curious gazes around you, while the high priest began his ceremonial speech. As you caught a glimpse of his face, you couldn’t help but stare.

He looked undeniably handsome.

When you suddenly heard the sound of the sacrificial pig, you found yourself gaping at Marcus, disbelief washing over you.

What the hell?

Did he notice you staring?

Yes, he did, and he was looking right back at you.

That smirk—damn.

Oh no.

Why was your heart racing?

Get a grip, Rose. You’re angry with him—cool your jets.

Why was there this sudden flutter in your chest, especially when you hadn’t felt an ounce of excitement since morning?

You weren't marrying the man you loved; you didn’t love him at all.

You hated him.

The high priest’s words sounded like murmurings, lost amid the cacophony of voices swirling in your head and heart. He gestured for you to raise your hands, and Claudia, as your pronuba, grasped your right hands with both of hers, intertwining them. Marcus slipped a gold ring onto your finger, featuring the image of two hands clasped together, reminiscent of the ones you’d seen in museums.

Oh great, the anxiety was creeping in again.

When he lifted your veil, it became time to recite the words you’d been trying to memorize since the night before. “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you said, your voice steady but avoiding Marcus's gaze, opting instead to focus on his chin.

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius,” he replied softly. As he leaned in for the kiss, you held your breath; even though it was obligatory, you weren’t prepared for it. Yet, his kiss was gentle and brief, and you were surprised to find his lips warm and soft against yours.

“And the contract is signed. General Acacius, this woman is now yours,” the high priest announced, his voice resounding like a solemn bell. The guests responded with a warm blend of applause and joyful laughter.

Claudia then handed Marcus a cake that one of the slaves had brought on a special plate. You swallowed hard; your stomach grumbled—hunger gnawed at you, and you couldn’t wait to eat something. Marcus made you take a bite of the cake, but he didn’t offer you much. He chuckled when you frowned at him, especially since he broke the cake over your head as part of a Roman wedding tradition.

Damn ritual cake.

You should be enjoying it in your belly, not having it drop on your head.

Fortunately, the rituals wrapped up, and the feast commenced. The food was delightful—lamb, fresh and dried fruits, bread, and, of course, wine.

Okay, the Romans knew how to celebrate.

Laughter filled the air as people indulged in food and drink, coming over to congratulate you both. If you weren’t so busy devouring everything in sight, you might have noticed Marcus watching you intently all night, but your hunger took precedence. You probably ate so eagerly on your wedding night that your appetite became the subject of conversation throughout the entire city more than your beauty did. Julius and other men approached and exchanged words with Marcus. Soon, Lucilla came over to congratulate Marcus as well. He responded to her with a cold but respectful thank you.

“That’s enough,” Marcus said all of sudden, taking your hand to stop you from reaching for the wine cup.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Isn’t this my wedding night? I can drink as I please.”

“Then I’ll stop you, as your husband.”

“I thought this marriage wasn’t real,” you muttered.

Marcus glanced around and then leaned close. “Be quiet; someone will overhear.”

His tone conveyed anger, but it felt more like a warning than a rebuke. Something had changed in him but what?

Or was he merely playing the part of a devoted husband?

After the banquet, you walked from Claudia’s villa to Acacius', accompanied by the sound of drums. To your surprise, the streets outside were crowded with people cheering for Marcus while gazing at you with wide-eyed awe. Their excitement felt genuine, unlike the women who had eyed you with envy during the banquet. As you attempted to walk beside Marcus, young men, including Julius with torches in hand, accompanied the procession. Occasionally, you stumbled over your long veil, prompting Marcus to offer you his arm. Accepting it made navigating the dark streets easier, but by the time you finally reached the villa, your legs were exhausted. After enduring a few more rituals, your patience was wearing thin.

Sure, they knew how to celebrate, but their devotion to ceremonies was grueling.

Once the fire and water rituals concluded in the villa’s courtyard, everyone suddenly turned to stare at you. You were accustomed to the typical glares from Balbina and Lydia, but the attention from even the slaves was unsettling.

Did you miss another ritual?

Marcus leaned in close, whispering, “My apologies.”

“Apologize all you want; I won’t forgive you. How dare you force me to—ah! What are you doing?”

He suddenly scooped you up, tossing you over his shoulder. Others laughter echoed as you thrashed about.

“I meant to say, ‘apologies for this.’”

“Marcus! My stomach is full; put me down now or I swear I’ll throw up! I mean it!” You struggled, but then his hand found your backside, you froze.

“Calm down; I’ll lower you down shortly.”

You couldn’t see much being upside down, but he turned left after ascended the stairs, veered a little, passed through a grand doorway, and behind a satin curtain, gently placing you back on your feet. It took a moment to regain your balance, then you took in your surroundings.

This must have been the biggest room you’d ever seen—a large bed, a big wardrobe, a hefty desk, chairs, and a passage that led to a balcony.

“Wow, so this is Mr. General's room,” you said, glancing around. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. 

You turned to him. “I prefer my own room, but this isn’t bad. Oh, I’m so tired; let me just sit here.” You plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Hey, this bed is really comfortable,” you remarked, bouncing slightly and testing the mattress. Although spring mattresses didn’t exist back then, this one was surprisingly soft.

Marcus approached you. “Let me help you with your veil; it seems tangled in your hair,” he offered, reaching out. 

“Yeah, I’m finally getting rid of this annoying thing.” 

“It suits you,” he said with a smile. 

You squinted at him.

“I didn’t intend to call you annoying; it suits you beautifully I meant to say.” 

“Whatever,” you yawned. “What a long day.” 

“Yes, it truly was,” he murmured.

You both stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment until you finally broke it. “It feels strange, doesn’t it? The fake wedding, and now we’re pretending to be husband and wife.” 

Suddenly Marcus frowned, turning away to lift the curtain and scold someone outside. “Return your quarters immediately. No one is allowed near this room."

Once he was came back, you were taking off your shoes. “What just happened?” 

“Slaves. Must be Balbina’s doing.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked, removing your other shoe. 

Marcus let out a weary sigh. “She’s intent on finding out if the marriage has really been consummated.”

You widened your eyes in surprise. “They were actually waiting to listen? Wow, you people surprise me every single time.” 

Marcus began to remove his shawl. “It’s tradition. Isn’t it the same in your time? The married couple does something different on wedding nights?”

“At least no one eavesdrops on you there, except in some narrow-minded cultures,” you replied, struggling to untie the belt around your waist. “Ugh, it’s too tight.” 

He stepped closer. “Allow me,” he said, effortlessly untying the knot. 

“Wow, you follow traditions so well. Are you taking this marriage seriously or what?” you said with a smirk. 

But you immediately regretted the joke when he shot you a piercing look. “If I truly took this marriage seriously, I wouldn’t be standing here having a conversation with you. Instead...” He tilted his head, gesturing the bed.

You turned your head away, swallowing hard. “Okay, okay, it was just a joke. By the way, where’s my bag?” you asked, glancing around. 

Marcus unfastened his belt and left it on the bed, then retrieved your bag from the wardrobe and handed it to you. “Here.” 

“Oh, my bag,” you exclaimed, taking it from him and giving it a tight hug. 

He laughed. “You must really have missed it.” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” you admitted. “Thanks for looking after it.” You pulled out your cell phone. “Now I can finally clear my head,” you said, sitting back on the bed. 

Marcus came over and perched on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I need to jot down the lunar calendar and important dates. The battery might die soon,” you explained while searching for your notebook in the bag. 

“You mean you need to write? You can use my desk,” he suggested, glancing at it. 

You peeked over and noticed a reed pen, ink, and parchment set up nicely. “Thanks, Mr. General, but I’ve got something better.” You pulled out a ballpoint pen and a small heart-shaped notepad. 

Marcus frowned. “You’re going to write with that thing?” 

You chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry; you don’t know about this invention, do you? It has a little reservoir for ink, so you don’t have to keep dipping it.” 

He examined the pen and scribbled something on the paper. “If I’d known about this earlier, I would have written my letters faster.” 

You took the pen back from him. "Just be careful; you might change history in a dangerous way."

You both smiled.

He stood up and grabbed some fruit from the table while you continued to write on the notepad. 

“Care for a taste? Or perhaps you've had your fill after the banquet,” he asked with a teasing glimmer in his eye, lifting a luscious grape to his mouth. 

“Yeah, I’d love some grapes, please.” 

“You certainly possess a much appetite for a woman,” he teased, placing a plate of grapes on the bed. 

“Hey, it says here that the next full moon is in six days,” you remarked, focused on your screen while popping a grape into your mouth.

Marcus seemed to enjoy watching you. “Six days,” he echoed, and a strange sensation pricked at him. He didn’t like the thought of you going back home in six days; it stung. 

“Yeah,” you replied cheerfully. “I hope it works this time,” you said with a grin. 

“And what if it doesn’t?”

You frowned at him. “Hey, let’s steer clear of negative thoughts; we need to stay positive.” 

He couldn’t fault you for that; he understood. He had already promised to help you return, yet he found it increasingly challenging to let you go, as the mere thought of it hurt him.

“Oh shit, no fucking way.”

“What happened?” he asked, bending down to look at the phone's display. 

“My battery's almost dead, the phone's going to shut off,” you said sadly.

“This little device was everywhere in your time; every individual was holding it. It must hold a lot of significance.”

“Yes, very much so. Some people walk around never putting the phone down. You can keep up with the news, chat with your friends, get recipes, take notes, anything you can think of.”

"It allows you to send messages and speak with each other, it does not?"

“You are a good observer, general. You know, you could have called the barracks with it,” you laughed at the prospect. “Of course, first you'd have to have a cell phone and a cell tower nearby."

He laughed softly. "It could've simplify things."

“Yeah. You know what I say? Since the battery is running out, I might as well look at the photos for the last time. I miss my sister. Do you want to take a look? After all, you're stuck here with me tonight.”

“True, I have nothing else to do,” he said, smiling nervously.

He asked you a lot of questions as you showed him the photos from the gallery, he didn't look amazed like Julius, just observant and detailed. When you mentioned that Claudia looked like your mother, he was surprised and even more surprised when you showed him an old picture of your mother.

And then he was lost in thought.

When you paused at a picture, he realized that your face had fallen.

“I should have deleted this photo,” you said angrily. And you deleted it and threw it in the trash.

“Why?”

“I mean, I tore that stupid wedding dress and seeing it again made me angry.”

“You never mentioned that you were married before.”

“I wasn't, the asshole left me on my wedding day.”

"What kind of man would do such thing," he muttered.

“Someone who's not a man, obviously,” your voice cracked.

He touched your shoulder. “Rosa,” he whispered. You looked at him, his brown eyes were intense, sparkling. "He is not worth your sorrow; do not allow yourself to feel sad because of him."

What the hell?

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage like a drum—thump thump thump thump.

“Thanks, Marcus,” you said, feeling warmth spread through you at his kindness. His hand lingered on your shoulder, igniting a flutter of nerves within you—not in a bad way but in a thrilling, electric way as he looked you over, his features undeniably charming.

Suddenly, the phone vibrated, and then the screen went dark.

“Shit,” you said and threw the phone across the room.

Marcus picked up the phone from the floor. “It might be broken now,” he said.

“Forget it,” you said, standing up. “There's no electricity anyway, I can't even charge it, so it doesn't matter.” you said, pouring the wine decanter on the table into a cup. Then you took your pill out of your bag and were about to pop one in your mouth when Marcus came up to you and stopped you by grabbing your wrist. "You have consumed enough wine already, and I've noticed you reaching for that medicine too frequently."

“What, have you decided to pretend to be my husband?” you asked sarcastically.

He took you in his arms without breaking his serious expression. You gasped. “Hey Marcus, I was joking!”

He approached the bed and laid you on it. You opened your eyes wide when he leaned over you, but he was bending down to pull the covers over you. “Sleep now, you must be tired.” he said, turning around to extinguish the oil lamp.

“But where will you sleep?”

“Here,” he said as he lay down on the lectus.

You sat up on your elbow and looked at him. “Hey that thing looks pretty uncomfortable.”

He smiled and put his arm over his face.“I’ve endured far brutal conditions during the war. This is comfortable option compared to that one.”

“Hmm, okay then,” you murmured and lay back down. “Good night, Mr. General.” As you closed your eyes, a wave of unexpected drowsiness washed over you, and you drifted into sleep almost instantly.

Marcus shifted his arm from his face and turned to watch you slumber, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Good night, Rosa,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet darkness.

Marcus awoke before you, the remnants of a restless night still etched on his face. He had spent countless hours watching you sleep, captivated by your peacefulness, while thoughts of you swirled in his mind. In an attempt to quell his overwhelming desire to reach out and touch you, he had paced the room like a caged animal, frustration simmering beneath the surface. A nascent anger bubbled up within him—for your inability to remember him—but he quickly quelled those feelings, aware that neither of you held the power to change things.

It felt as if the gods themselves were casting a mocking smile in his direction.

As you stretched in bed, you were pleasantly surprised to feel refreshed when you opened your eyes. It had been a long time since you had slept this well. Marcus's bed was far more comfortable than you had expected.

But where was he?

You sat up and scanned the room, yawning.

Just then, he lifted the curtain and walked in, his face lighting up with surprise at the sight of you awake. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Yes. You won't believe it, but I actually slept great," you replied. He approached the bed and lifted the covers, which caused you to startle. "What are you doing?"

When you spotted the dagger-like knife in his hand—an instrument used by Roman soldiers—you instinctively pulled back and curled your legs up. "Marcus, are you out of your mind?"

“Easy now, I won't hurt you,” he reassured you. “The slaves will be here shortly to collect the sheets."

He pressed the knife into his palm. You were shocked that he didn't even flinch when he cut himself. He placed his hand firmly on the sheet and clenched his fist, few drops of blood trickled down and stained the fabric. You looked at him in confusion, but he seemed completely at ease, as if he were completing a task.

"Geez, we should have poured some wine or something. Did you really have to cut yourself?" 

"Balbina would have noticed." 

"What is she, Sherlock Holmes or something?" you muttered, wrinkling your nose in disgust at the sight of blood on the sheet. 

As he wiped the knife on a piece of cloth, you stood up, reached for his hand, and examined it. The cut was deep, but it was nothing Marcus would worry about. "You're quite determined to cut yourself, aren't you?"

He frowned at the insinuation in your voice. 

“Julius told me you were willing to die.” He looked into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. You sighed before you spoke again. “He also mentioned why that is.”

You both locked eyes in a moment that stretched on, the air thick with unspoken words. “Do you really feel that way? Do you want to die so badly because it would take away your pain?”

He didn't answer, he was still looking into your eyes, but he wasn't angry, as if he had a lot he wanted to say but couldn't put it into words. He looked at the piece of cloth again and picked up the other one, but you took it from him. “Let me do it,” you said as you wrapped it around the cut on his hand.

He watched you intently as you worked, swallowing hard, captivated by the sight of your eyelashes and the beauty in your eyes. Resisting the urge to touch you, to kiss you... Such a strong urge that it felt far more challenging than facing an enemy on the battlefield. He knew he would have to learn to cope with it.

“Don't die,” you whispered, not taking your eyes off his hand as tears began to trickle down the sides. "If anything happens to you, I can't go back. You're the only one I trust here. I need you." When a tear fell on his palm, he surprised, took your face in his hands. “I assure you that I won't. I no longer have a desire to die, so please, do not cry.”

You smiled and wiped your tears, sniffling. “We have a deal.”

He smiled and wiped the other tears with his thumb, nodding. 

"Besides, you promised to help me back. You can't die without keeping your promise." you said, teasing him.

He nodded again. "You have my word."

And at that moment there was a knock at the door. Marcus withdrew his hand and returned to the bed. He picked up the sheets and walked to the slaves waiting at the door. Then he came back. "I have some duties in the barracks and need to leave soon. You shall have this room—and the entire villa—as your own home now. Feel free to indulge in whatever pleases you."

You looked around. “Okay, I'm sure I'll find something to do.”

"And please, don't go out unannounced. Now that you are my wife, you can put me in a difficult situation, you understand? It's essential to consider the reputation of your general husband."

With a playful salute, you nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckled and took one last look at you before leaving the room. 

After he left, you sat on the bed.  It felt peculiar; something had changed within Marcus—he was softer now, more open than before. Even when you brought up the past with him, he didn't get angry or avoid the subject. Maybe he felt sorry for yelling at you last time, who knows.

Later in the day, the slaves entered the room to change the sheets and dress you in your new attire. You walked around, feeling uncomfortable in the elaborate attire. Sewing and designing appeared to be easier than actually wearing it. The gold bracelets on your arms and the necklaces and earrings around your neck clinked with every movement. Typically, you weren't fond of wearing so much jewelry, but it seemed that being a married woman in this era came with such expectations.

How lovely.

Your heart sank when one of the slaves informed you that Balbina wanted to see you. You hesitated, dreading the encounter with her, but you had no choice; your step mother-in-law called for you. Sooner or later, you would have to face her, given that you lived in the same house.

As you descended the stairs, you stumbled a few times, struggling with the stola while trying to keep the shawl wrapped around your arms. Balbina was seated in the courtyard with Lydia and Claudia. Once they spotted you, all heads turned in your direction. You smiled at Claudia, you were pleased to see her. She stood up and greeted you, “My lady.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Me?”

She chuckled. “Now that you’re the General’s wife, you must be treated with respect.”

Lydia looked away, while Balbina stared at you intently. “What wife? Your husband left the villa early, it seems he’s not quite satisfied with you. You obviously failed to please him.”

You rolled your eyes, trying hard not to say anything bad. 

Claudia joined you on the same lectus, making herself comfortable. “Come now, Balbina, isn’t that typical for the first night?”

Lydia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Lady Claudia is right mother. It’s quiet impressive they even managed it.”

They all burst into laughter.

What the fuck?

Were you really being interrogated about your wedding night? And worse, being ridiculed for it?

What was wrong with these people?

The rest of their conversation was nothing short of appalling, filled with discussions about blood on the sheets and other cringeworthy topics. It seemed normal to them to make the newlywed woman feel embarrassed, part of their tradition.

Before she take her leave, Claudia discreetly spoke to you in the garden by the fountain. She not only resembled your mother but treated you like one too, almost. “I noticed the sheets. Are you in pain or bleeding?”

You sighed, feeling annoyed. “No, I’m fine, really.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. Try to gather strength for the next time you’re together. I know it’s tough, but I assure you you’ll adjust in time, Each time, it will get easier."

Your face flushed, but you felt irritated. Remembering your first time, you hadn’t even thought about it, much less discussed it. It was just a fleeting memory. Yet, in this era, it seemed to carry immense weight. But it was hard to listen to her, not only because you are not inexperienced but because you and Marcus are not really husband and wife, and you had not done it but pretending like you did.

“To earn Balbina's admiration and respect, you must bear a child. If you give the General a son, you’ll earn the highest respect in this villa.”

You pursed your lips, still pretending as if you cared. “Does it really matter that much?”

“Indeed. When you’re together, after he finishes inside you, I advise you to lie back, stay still, and place a pillow under your hips—it will help."

Oh, damn, you were well aware of all this and more, coming from a modern era.

But how could Claudia have known? You wouldn't blame her for that.

You nodded, your cheeks burning. “Well, thank you,” you replied nervously.

What she suggested got something stirring inside you; it had been so long since you last hooked up that it was hard not to feel anything.

Yet, there was no fucking way you were going to sleep with someone in ancient Rome.

“Damn it,” you sighed softly as you sank onto Marcus's bed in the dim light of the evening, squinting into a small mirror you had fished out from the depths of your bag. The roots of your hair stood out starkly against the golden caramel hue, begging for attention. Your natural color contrasted sharply with the caramel hue. As you fidgeted with your hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, Marcus stepped into the room. He caught sight of you—holding the mirror in one hand, your fingers tugging at the offending roots with the other. He couldn't help but smile as he observed you from behind the curtain. “Is it your hair that’s making you so angry?”

You turned to face him, noticing he was wearing his dark red tunic. You hadn’t seen it on him before because he usually kept it hidden under his armor. That’s right—you were in his room, and you were technically his wife, so he felt at ease around you.

“As soon as I get back, I need to get it root-dyed again,” you sighed.

“The color of your natural hair is more beautiful,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks, but you're not helping. And my French nails are a disaster, too. I need to get those done as well. You have no idea how tough it is for someone who goes to the salon every week.” You stretched out your hand to him.

He took your hand , observing. “I think your nails are perfect."

"Why am I even asking for your opinion?” you complained.

“How was your day?” he asked, settling on the edge of the bed.

"It was a bit dull. It’s so hard without my phone."

"I am considering forgoing my duties at the barracks tomorrow. Would you be interested in joining me for a horseback riding excursion?"

You raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

He smiled, and for the first time, he enjoyed saying the word from your time: “Really.”

"That would be fantastic, Marcus. So you can skip work whenever you feel like it?"

"Not quite," he smirked. "Julius and my second-in-command will be present in my absence."

"Your second-in-command? Since you're a general, is he a lieutenant general, major general, or something? I’m not great with military ranks."

"I do not understand the terms you are using. A second-in-command is called Optio."

“Hmm.”

A peculiar silence fell between you.

Normally, as newlyweds, you should have been preoccupied with other activities during your alone time at night, but this wasn’t a real one. You both exchanged anxious smiles that lingered until the silence became nearly unbearable.

You finally broke the stillness.

“Marcus, I just had a great idea. Since we have some time to sleep, why don’t we play a game? It would help us get to know each other better. What do you think?”

“A game?”

You stood up. "A drinking game—It called 'I Never.'"

He frowned. “I am uncertain about what that is.”

You set the wine decanter and cups on the tray, returned to the bed, and placed them down. “It’s quite simple,” you explained as you settled cross-legged in the middle of the bed. "You say 'I never,' and finish the sentence. If it’s something you did, you drink; if not, you don’t."

Marcus positioned himself more comfortably at the edge of the bed, facing you with his arms crossed. “It doesn’t seem to make much sense.”

You rolled your eyes. "That’s why it's called a game. Learn by example. I’ll start: I never killed a man. Now you drink, because you did, right?"

"True, I killed many." He smiled slightly as you poured him some wine. “I think I understand the logic now.” He took a sip.

"Yes. Now, Mr. General, your turn.”

Pursing his lips, thinking. “I never had a phone."

You laughed. “You’re getting the hang of it.” Pondering your next move, you continued, “I never fell in love.”

He met your gaze.

You shrugged. “I thought I was in love with that jerk, but I was mistaken.”

Marcus took another sip of his wine, clearly enjoying what you just admitted, a smirk playing on his lips as he spoke. “I never dyed my hair.”

You chuckled. “I'd pay to see that.” You considered the things you were curious about him. “I never slept with a woman.”

Marcus shot you a look. “Do you think I’m pure?”

“Okay, let’s put it this way: I never slept with a whore.” You raised your eyebrows, waiting for his response.

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine sheepishly.

“Aha, not quite so innocent, are we?”

"I never claimed that I am an innocent man," he explained, smiling.

"Wait, are you actually playing or just saying?" 

"Just saying," he echoed your words, looking at you piercingly, which left you blinking and swallowing.

“I’m not judging. I don't care who you slept with or... how many." You cleared your throat. "It’s just a game. Okay, your turn.”

“I never slept with a man.”

You rolled your eyes. "Come on, really? You know I’m not a virgin."

He tilted his head curiously. “The game, you said.”

“Fine.” You squinted and took a drink. “Just one man, and you know who.”

He nodded in understanding.

And the game continued on.

By the time the jug of wine was empty, your head was spinning. “I think I’m getting drunk,” you admitted, feeling a bit woozy. "I guess you won," you said, laughing uncontrollably as you clapped your hands and leaned your head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you gently. "Are you well? Rosa?" He lowered his gaze, checking your face, but your eyes were closed—unconscious. Brushing the hair back from your face, he sighed softly.

"I regret having made that promise. How can I endure watching you leave?" His fingers gently caressed your hair. "After all these years of yearning, how can I allow you to slip away once more?" He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your temple.

"When will you truly remember, my love?”

“It’s beautiful here.”

As the midday sun bathed the landscape in a golden glow, Marcus led you to that enchanting spot he had spoken of. The meadow unfolded like a green carpet, vibrant and alive, with a shimmering pond nestled at its center, reflecting the azure sky above. You eagerly took off your shoes, walking barefoot on soft grass that tickled your toes as you stepped onto the earth.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked, astonishment written all over his face.

“Earthing. I’m just savoring the feel of the soil,” you replied.

“Be careful, Rosa—you might step on a thorn."

But then, a realization struck him; this moment felt oddly familiar.

“Relax, I’ll be fine. It’s good for your feet and body; it helps you unwind, lowers the stress. Just give it a try, Marcus.” 

'Come now, Marcus. Try.’

He smiled.

The way you pronounced his name was like music to his ears, just as she used to say it. In that moment, he realized that no one else could say his name quite like you did. He had brought you here hoping to spark some memories, but he felt uncertain.

This was where he had first met her—a sanctuary, a place of refuge where they had spent countless moments together. Now, as he heard that familiar phrase from you, it ignited a flicker of hope in his heart. He needed to try something different. 

He removed his sandals. “It might be a bit challenging to fasten these later. Would you be able to lend me your assistance?” he asked, his heart racing in anticipation, waiting for your answer. 

The response he received wasn’t what he expected—not even close. “What am I, your babysitter, old man?" you laughed while reaching for an apple on the tree. "'Ain't your mama. Oh, I love that song. I wish I could listen right now.” you kept murmuring the song unaware of Marcus' feelings.

He frowned, feeling annoyed.

Still, he shook off the momentary disappointment; he was determined to keep moving forward. While you dipped your legs into the cool pond, he wandered through the meadow, gathering a bouquet of wildflowers bursting with colors—bright yellows, violets, and whites. He returned to you, presenting the vibrant collection with a hopeful smile.

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out,” you said, your eyes wide in surprise. 

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Because you’re being way too nice to me.” 

He took a breath and said, “I realize I haven’t treated you as kindly as you deserve. How about these flowers I collected for you? Will you accept my apology?"

“No, but it’s a step in the right direction, I guess,” you said with a wry smile as you accepted the flowers. 

“Which one do you like more?” 

“Hmmm. The daisy. It’s simple and lovely, just as it is. Plus, it doesn’t have a scent, which is perfect because I’m allergic to pollen.” Just then, an itch made you sneeze. 

He frowned. “What about jasmine?” 

“No way, the smell will make me sneeze even more,” you grimaced in response. 

Marcus was taken aback; this was different—she had loved jasmine. What was it that made you so uniquely distinct, yet somehow mirrored her in so many ways?

As the days went by, that day finally arrived; the radiant full moon loomed ever closer on the horizon. You and Marcus had agreed to head to the temple that evening together, so you found yourself anxiously waiting for him all day. But he never arrived; in fact, Julius was nowhere to be seen either. You ventured down to the courtyard and glanced around. Balbina and Lydia were in their usual spot, chatting with some other women. Ah, those curious ladies again—the type who scrutinize you with interest and pepper you with questions about your family, homeland.

Luckily, they didn’t notice you slipping away.

On your way out, you spotted one of the slaves and told him you were headed out to meet Marcus. It wasn't a lie; he would have suspected you were at the temple anyway. You could no longer bear staying cooped up, especially with your phone out of battery and only two anxiety pills left.

The soldiers at the gate hesitated to let you leave alone, insisting one of them accompany you to the temple. You had no choice but to accept their escort; the general had given strict orders not to let you wander off unaccompanied.

Minutes felt like hours as you arrived at the temple, and yet, no one awaited you there. The soldier lingered on the stairs, while you gazed into the stillness of the temple. Suddenly, you heard the familiar sound of a horse's neigh, and Julius arrived. He instructed the other soldier to return and approached you with a serious expression. “Rosa, it would be better for you to leave right now.”

“What do you mean?” you replied, confusion twisting in your gut. “Marcus said we were to meet here.”

“Emperor Severus has been poisoned. Prince Geta and Caracalla are preparing to seize the throne.”

“What?”

“We’re keeping all soldiers on high alert,” he continued, glancing around as if the shadows held unseen threats. “We’re prepared for an uprising at any moment.”

“Julius, I need to go back. The full moon is up there; it'll be even more prominent at midnight. This time, I know it’ll work.”

Julius sighed, troubled. “Marcus is gathering a force to counter the praetorians' threat. However, If he promised to arrive, he will. My orders are to control the city’s entrances. Stay hidden. I’ll try to return shortly.”

“Okay. Just be careful, Julius.”

He smiled reassuringly and hurried down the stairs. You settled into the quiet of the temple, waiting, but no one came. The silence felt suffocating. You couldn’t go back to the villa; your patience had worn thin.

Just then, you heard the quick gallop of horses outside. You instinctively hid, unsure who rode by. Another minute passed; this time, footsteps echoed on the stairs. You glanced up to see not Marcus, but a young boy who gazed at you with curiosity. "Lady Acacius?"

You tensed but nodded.

“The general is wounded and sent me to deliver a message. He said 'if I don’t make it in time, you should leave without waiting for me.'”

The boy glanced over his shoulder before dashing down the stairs. You wanted to ask how he was hurt, but he was gone in an instant, swallowed by the shadows.

What was happening?

Why was he wounded?

You pulled out the parchment, reading the words just to try, shock washing over you.

It had worked.

Your mouth fell open as a wave of joy surged through your body. Instinctively, you took a step toward the rift of bright light, but then stopped. The last time you saw Marcus was that morning, and now he was hurt, maybe close to death.

Panic tightened your chest.

How could you abandon him like this?

What if something happened to him?

No, you couldn’t let that happen. The rift would have to wait. You couldn’t leave without seeing him safe and sound. Determined, you knelt by one of the temple pillars and prayed—both to your god and to all the Roman gods.

Fear crept into your heart. For perhaps the first time, you found yourself crying for him.

If it was before weeks ago, you wouldn't care about his well-being and would jump at the chance to leave here.

But now...

Now you couldn't leave without seeing him.

Had you truly fallen in love with him?

You pushed the questions aside, focusing only on your desire to see him safe.

A little later, you peeked over the pillar as hoofbeats approached. When you saw him, you quickly stood up.

“Rosa!”

You scrambled down the stairs to meet him, your heart fluttering. “Marcus!” you wailed, throwing yourself into his arms. He caught you, his warmth enveloping you, but the moment was cut short as he pulled back to gaze intensely into your eyes. “You were awaiting?” His eyes widened in disbelief as he noticed the pulsating rift shimmering within the temple. "You managed..."

“Forget that. Where are you hurt?” You noticed the rag wrapped around his calf, which was stained red with blood.

“It’s nothing—”

Suddenly, an arrow flew from nowhere, piercing the air, striking him in the shoulder. He stumbled toward you, and you cried out in shock, “Marcus!”

“Acacius is here!” someone shouted, followed by the clamor of more horses approaching.

He shielded you behind him and drew his sword. “Run into the temple! Leave now, while you can!”

“No!”

Struggling but determined, he grabbed your hand and urged you into the temple. “Rosa! I said leave! I can’t let anything happen to you!”

“I won’t leave you in the middle of this chaos! Come with me. That wound looks serious; you need modern treatment!”

Just then, several soldiers arrived, clashing with the guards as the sounds of swords echoed around you. “Leave now! I can’t abandon my men!” Marcus yelled.

“No, I can't leave you like this!”

Suddenly, another arrow flew through his stomach. Then, another one, from behind, all from behind, dastardly, cruelly.

Another arrow plunged into his chest. Marcus spat blood from his mouth yet forcing himself to stand. You froze, shuddering with terror.

“NO! Marcus!” you screamed.

You forced your brain to think.

As soon as Marcus sank to his knees, struggling to catch his breath, you slipped under his arms and hoisted him up with every ounce of strength you could muster, ignoring the sting in your muscles, ignoring your dress covering in blood, his blood. You focused entirely on saving him. "Come on, Marcus, don't die, please! You promised me! Don't die!“ You cried out as you pulled Marcus toward the rift. "Please, God! Don't let him die! Help me! Marcus, I can save you. Please don’t die; the doctors can help you. You have no idea what they are capable of. Please, just stay with me!"

“Amo te, Rhea,” he murmured, his voice barely escaping his lips as he surrendered to the darkness, closing his eyes. You heard that name for the first time, but you didn't care. Panic surged through your veins. "Marcus, open your eyes, damn it! Don’t you dare slip away from me!”

You dragged him into the light, leaving his blood painting everywhere, and then something happened.

A blink.

A blinding light, intensely bright.

An unusual wind, chilling and invasive, seemed to seep into every cell.

And then, once more.

A blink of the eye.

And darkness.

But not just any darkness—the deep, enveloping darkness of the night. Rain poured down, heavy yet warm. You stood up in shock, taking in your surroundings.

Tall buildings loomed over you, street lamps flickered, the car horns filled the air alongside the tangles of wires on electric poles.

You were back.

Tears of joy streamed down your face, blending with the rain. Then you came to your senses, you had just been crying—for him.

For Marcus.

You turned around, frantically scanning the area, searching the ground. The shadows from the trees cloaked everything in darkness.

But there he was.

Marcus lay there, motionless.

You rushed to him, heart pounding.

"Marcus! What the fuck-"

There was no blood on him, just a few scattered drops. You ran your trembling fingers over his armor. The holes in his armor were visible, but the arrows had vanished along with the wounds they caused. Placing your head on Marcus's chest, you listened intently. His heart was beating.

His face was wet from the fall of rain. As you gently brushed your fingers against his cheek, you felt warmth.

Not dead.

He was alive.

It was absurd, impossible—even miraculous—but he was alive.

Your jaw dropped, then a grin spread across your face.

And then he opened his eyes, blinking as raindrops fell on his eyelashes. Relief washed over him as he saw you, yet confusion clouded his gaze as if he couldn’t believe it was happening again.

You smiled at him, “Marcus, I know this sounds crazy, but you’re not dead. We’re back. Together.”

hope you enjoyed the chapter babies, thanks for reading ❤️

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[andy-15-07]

Hiiii 🥰 I absolutely love your stories and wanted to request javier pena x steves sister

Knowing that javier likes to sleep around he warns him that his sister is OFF LIMITS and warned his sister to stay away from javi. But then when they finally meet at dinner or a bbq, the sexual tension is crazy and they just can’t resist each other so they fuck in the bathroom 🤭

But then when they come back it’s suuuper obvious and Steve tries to fight Javier but his sister stops him

Something like that please maybe? 🥰

Off Limits

PAIRING:Javier Pena x reader

WORD COUNT: 843| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Joel Miller Masterlist

“She’s off limits, Peña.”

Steve’s voice had been sharp. Clear. Like a threat wrapped in brotherly love.

Javier had just scoffed, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Relax, Murphy. I’m not that stupid.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Because she’s not just some gringa you can take home from a bar. That’s my sister. And I mean it,don’t even look at her.”

Javi rolled his eyes, already regretting this backyard BBQ.

---

You hadn’t even been in Bogotá for 48 hours before Steve gave you the “Javier Peña is a slut and will ruin your life” lecture. Like you were still nineteen. Like you hadn’t figured out what kind of men you liked. And Javi,brooding, cocky, devastatingly hot Javi,checked every box.

So yeah. You were intrigued.

Which made tonight… complicated.

The DEA team was having a casual dinner at one of their local safe houses. Meat smoking on the grill, beers cracked open, soft Spanish music playing in the background. You wore a breezy sundress that clung just right, and when you walked out onto the patio, you didn’t miss the way Javi’s gaze found you instantly.

From across the yard.

Through the smoke.

Lips parted, drink halfway to his mouth.

You smiled. Tilted your head like you weren’t aware of what you were doing.

He looked away first.

Game on.

---

You weren’t trying to make your brother mad. You were just… existing. Sitting next to Javi on the couch while people laughed around the living room. Laughing a little too hard at his dry jokes. Brushing your knee against his when no one was watching.

It was dangerous.

It was delicious.

And when he leaned over and whispered in your ear,“You like playin’ with fire, baby?”,your stomach flipped.

You met his eyes, lips parted. “Only when it looks like you.”

Javier’s jaw clenched.

He stood up so fast you thought he was going to leave the room,but instead, he caught your hand as he passed and said over his shoulder, “Need help finding the bathroom?”

Your cheeks burned. Your pulse throbbed. But you followed.

---

The door had barely shut before his hands were on you,gripping your waist, pulling you close.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he growled against your mouth.

You gasped as your back hit the bathroom door. “You kissed me first.”

“I didn’t even kiss you.”

“You wanted to.”

He chuckled darkly. “Yeah. And I’m gonna fuckin’ regret this.”

Then he kissed you.

Rough. Hungry. Like he was mad about it. Like he was starved.

You moaned, fingers tugging at his belt, breath hot as you gasped, “You gonna make it quick, Peña, or do I need to sit on your face to get what I want?”

That broke something in him.

Your dress was up. His pants were down. Your thighs lifted around his waist, pressed against the sink.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, pushing into you in one deep, sinful thrust.

You bit his shoulder to keep from crying out. “You’re huge.”

“And you’re soaked.” His teeth grazed your throat. “You want your brother to hear?”

“God no.”

He grinned. “Then be quiet, baby.”

He set a brutal pace. Thrusts hard and fast, one hand gripping your hip, the other around your throat,not tight, just firm enough to hold your attention.

The bathroom was tiny. The sink shook. His name slipped from your lips like a prayer.

“I’m close,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Yeah?” he rasped. “You gonna come for me, hermosa? Right here with my cock inside you while your brother’s out there thinking I’m being good?”

You shattered.

Clenching around him, choking back a moan, your whole body shuddered. Javi grunted, thrusting once more before spilling inside you, his mouth on your neck, his fingers trembling.

You both breathed hard.

“Still think it’s worth it?” you whispered.

He grinned, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Ask me again when we walk out there.”

---

You returned to the backyard five minutes later,after fixing your hair and dabbing at the hickey blooming on your collarbone. You were sure no one would notice.

They noticed.

Steve's eyes narrowed immediately.

Javi grabbed a beer and tried to play it cool. You sat next to him. Bad idea.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Steve snapped, rising from his chair. “You really couldn’t help yourself for one night, Peña?”

Javi didn’t even deny it. “Steve,”

“No. Fuck you, Javier.”

You stood too. “Steve, stop. It wasn’t just him. I wanted it too.”

Steve turned on you, mouth open,but froze. “You… What?”

You raised your chin. “I’m not a kid, Steve. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with.”

“He’s Javier.”

You shrugged. “Yeah. And he’s hot.”

Pedro choked on his beer somewhere behind you.

Javi looked at the ground like he was trying not to laugh. Or get murdered.

Steve stared at you both, exasperated. “This is gonna end so badly.”

You smirked, tugging Javi’s shirt to pull him closer. “Maybe. But I’ll enjoy the ride.”

Javi murmured in your ear, “So will I, baby.”

[dilf-docs]

Atta Girl

old jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel miller discovers the world, yes, the same world that has gone (been for a while) to shit, can still have surprises. like you, his sweet naive unexperienced girlfriend, being everything but that.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (old joel miller my GILF!), smut, sighs this is pwp who am i lying to, inexperienced!reader (yet for some reason she's a pro sucker lmao i'm a virgin don't come at me besides this is a fanfic who gives af if it's realistic or not), dirty talk, fingering, breast play, pussy pronouns, oral (m. receiving) (need that geriartric cock inside my mouth), some fluff bc we gotta balance this thing or i'm going to hell (okay he's not mean i baited y'all. mean jackson joel miller piece is still in draft dungeon)

word count: 4,722 words

side note: hell-fucking-o????? 2K CITIZENSHIPS APPROVED!?! ,, ok gonna be honest when i started writing in here and my first fic (an old man logan one, do u guys see a pattern?) flopped, i never thought i'd make it this far and it's all thanks to you my lovely citizens :,) you may think this is silly but your support means a lot to me (especially comments n' rb I'M A WHORE FOR THEM). now, yapping aside, as promised, this won the poll for the celebratory piece, so here you go !!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Joel Miller is a man hard to surprise.

Years of weariness, trust and spirit broken by things that would kill anyone else, and overall, just surviving, you'd think that a man that was hardened by a rough past and of his age had seen it all.

Joel liked to think he was prepared for whatever life threw at him. Enter Ellie: how she had managed to break his shell, from cargo to soothing balm to heal old open wounds he refused to even speak of. But he was ready to burn the world for her, picking guns and taking lives to bring her to a home. His home. He settled, filial terms silent but felt, ready to take the second chance life had given him. Until the bond that united them turned fragile, loose ends tensing the silver string of found family.

He fell down the path of a familiar ache he hadn't felt in a long time, dormant, waiting for him to fuck up to show again with it's dull and hollow torment. He always did. So now he's spending too much time at the Tipsy Bison nursing a glass that could have his name by now, all to avoid going to a eerily quiet home where the room at the end of the hallway lies empty.

And then life decides to startle his track, albeit destructive, with a third chance: you.

Just thinking about you brings a certain tingle that an old rugged man like him should be embarrased about. One he shouldn't even feel.

But Joel loves you, he thinks. From the moment you showed up on his front door, rambling about some reparations at the school, were you volunteered.

"They were all scared of you" your sweet voice had said, some of that unreasonable fear laced within it, "so I came"

He scoffed at Jackson's ridiculous antics. Rumors spread fast in the small town, and suddenly, the hanging threat of who he was followed him everywhere like a shadow, which, given the dark nature of his now put to rest violence, seemed a proper description.

"They sent 'cha?"

You were clearly intimidated, given your shaky frame despite spring and the light tremble in your tone. But you were still here, gaze set on him as a determined child who wants to win the best prize.

"No. I chose to come"

His stomach does a flip at the stillness of your words, security etched in the statement as if you hadn't been in the verge of stuttering seconds ago.

Like you wanted to show him this is what it is, and whatever that was, you weren't running. But he testes the water, skin prickling intensely.

"And you ain't scared, kid?"

He laughed, the type of laugh that shakes your body with unease, but the one that shot across you didn't come from a place of distress, rather a more hidden one, between a pulsing press between your ribs, like it'd swallow you whole if you kept thinking about it too much.

"I am" you answered truthfully.

Something about your quiet admission made him falter the tiniest bit. Maybe it was how you had no problem voicing out loud any of your thoughts, or how you weren't afraid to be seen for what you were, the quiet of your answer out of a gentle place and not dread.

"Then why are ya' still here?"

Brows furrowed, like he, for some reason, expected you to yell at him for all the sins that colored his calloused hands red. Instead, you had looked at him as if he had all the answers in the world, big sparkling eyes staring deep into his tainted soul.

"Because I need you"

Yet, when you said it, Joel felt you weren't talking about the creaky drawers and old stairs anymore, but of the anchor you just found for yourself in the shape of Jackson's most respected and troubled resident, unknowing that, in that moment, he had chosen you too.

So, Joel may have forgotten about what feelings that feel too before world-ly feel like, but the quiet steady beat of his heart, mingling into a peaceful symphony with each soft breath past your rosy lips, head laying over his rising and falling chest, warm, feels exactly like love is.

He knew from the very first time you were his. Yeah, he loves you.

Joel just wants to give you the world, his world: the quiet afternoons, his rough limbs and aching joints, his face covered by spots and sun kisses that compliment his wrinkles, hair that gets curlier and softer and greyer, every figure he makes in his little shop and, of course, his bed.

Your Joel isn't exactly a pleaser, used of doing what he deems best without asking, yet, the moment you uttered those three words, he knew it was because he hadn't met you.

"Be my first"

He remembers the surprise on his face, how it grew red as the silence stretched on. The door bursting open, bed creaking under combined weight and your giggles. He too remembers the sweet cries past your lips, your taut muscles, the little strained breath you let out when he slipped inside of you. It all belonged to him because you let him, and that day, Joel Miller became the luckiest man in the world.

And yet, he still hadn't been as surprised as he was today.

The routine was the same from the past year: pick you up from the school after he was done at the office, taking some minutes to watch you with the toddlers, making voices as the same tender hands you used to jerk him off booped noses and carried children who made him think of getting one of your own, one with your grace and beauty, getting him painfully hard at images of filling you silly and your body changing to carry his seed. Fuck. He was a psychopath for such lewd thoughts on a place destined for education and infancy innocence, and here he was, cock uncomfortable inside his pants.

But then your mouth gets too greedy when your sickenly honeyed voice whispers his name, robbing him of air and only pulling away when his lips get swollen and his face a little flustered.

"Need help down there?"

There's always that problem and you're always the solution.

"Let's go home, sugar. Then ya' can help 'tis ol' man fix it"

Walking back home is always a hassle, hands intertwined, Jackson seeing a cute couple. But you're both aware of the throb that settles in between you like the tension, nobody noticing how hard you're trying to not just fuck on the middle of the street like two eager bunnies.

It's his fault, he thinks as you push the door of his house open, for making you like this.

The truth is, after taking your virginity, Joel's taught you things your unexperienced mind couldn't even imagine, and this past six months, you've complied with that sweet disposition that clung to you like the floral of the soap you used. And Joel loved that: how, despite having his dick stretching your tight pussy, you looked at him with those big eyes from the very first night, still round and innocent, like a doe and not a siren.

Which was surprising, because Joel, in a way, had corrupted you. Tainted the naive angel. And still, it was like he couldn't get rid of quiet shy you. Worst of it all was, instead of filling him with shame from robbing pieces and pieces of your integrity everyday, the older man felt some wicked sense of satisfaction and pride, to see how, despite his age and your soft nature, he was yours as you were his, and that he had taught you exactly how to enjoy that.

He knows you like the palm of his hand and the littered scars across his chest. The pattern you call stars, holding into a beauty only you see in the ugly marks, yet make him feel with each delicate trace, making such blunt and rough marks a galaxy; exorbitant. The same ones he thinks hide behind your adoring warm eyes. Joel just knows you, so even when things go the same way they have for a while, he's aware something is different when your fingers fiddle with his belt, trembling hands now struggling to free his aching cock.

He knows better than to think it's your arousal and impatience. No, this is something else.

"Sweetheart..." he warns. "Somethin' wrong?"

You shake your head, hands ready to take his underwear down.

"I'm fine"

He won't take that clipped sentence for an answer. Instead, his hands slowly remove yours from his hips before going to grab you by your chin, fingers pressing not enough to bruise but to make a point. His thumb presses lightly over your mouth, your bottom lip tugged down, parting your lips. You let out a little sigh, closing your eyes, eyelashes kissing your cheekbones. What a damn sight, he thinks.

"Talk to me"

"I want to suck your cock"

He almost chokes on nothing. Joel coughs a little, red painting his cheeks as a surge of lust and desire crashes through him. His eyes go wide at your bold and eager request, because one: it wasn't like you to talk like this, and two, you had never done it before.

Sure, you had jerked him off so many times he's lost count, but your lips wrapped around his length, mouth swallowing his aching cock? Just the image of it going past your pretty lips, the sensation of your spit mixed with his liquids... He already has a special place in hell, the blood rushing to his already hard member.

"Fuck, sugar. You wanna have this dick 'nside y'r mouth so bad? That eager and needy y'are?" he asked, voice reduced to a low rumble.

You nod, a little too excited as he sits in the edge of your shared bed, letting out a huff of effort. Old man sounds, you would tease. But not today, it seems, when your eyes are too busy looking at the pulsating silhouette under the grey cloth. He smirks, removing the layer, and he swears you begin to salivate like a starving dog.

"Y' think y' can take it?" his hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he watches you with a drowsy gaze. "Ain't it too much for a pretty lil' thing like y'rself?"

Wordlessly, you fall to your knees, looking up to him with those eyes of yours that drove him crazy. You caress his thigh, and despite being the one in control, Joel's eyelids feel heavy, fluttering at your soft and tender touches on his thick muscle, every hair rising at the reverence of your every move. You leave a little kiss in his inner thigh, making his heart skip a beat, breath a little ragged.

"I can" sounding so sure. Oh, his little angel.

"You gon' be a good girl then?" he whispers, voice hoarse and thick, looking down at you.

You nod, slowly.

"Let me taste it" you murmur, voice soft and breathy.

Your tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up his shaft. You savor the salty taste of his arousal, moaning softly at the flavor. Joel's brown eyes darken in seconds.

"Quit 'da teasin'. 'M too damn old for that"

You smile a bit. "Impatient"

"Minx" he replies, voice thick.

It is indeed big, especially now that it was hard, and you do wonder for a second if you're biting more than you can chew.

"Y'asked for 'tis" like he can read your mind, "don't grow shy on me, doll"

He groans when your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly as you always do. He feels the heat building in his gut as you work him over, letting out a little groan.

"F-feels so good, sugar" he voices out, strained. "But I need'a know if y'r made fo' 'tis. C'mon, princess. Show me what'a good lil' cock slut y'are"

You lean in, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his big cock, making him shudder.

"Let's see what y'r pretty mouth can do" while tracing your lips, idly.

For the first time ever, the warmth of your mouth takes him. He can see it dissapear past your lips, stretching around his girth. Joel can only watch with a breath he forgets to take how every inch of his thick cock is gone past your lips. Entranced, like this was a magic trick of some sorts.

"S' that all?" he lets out a tense chuckle. You narrow your eyes, feeling a bit of a gag and spit drool past your lips. "Don't worry, princess. I can be of help on that"

He moves a bit, groin almost on your face as he's dangerously close to fucking your face. Instead, you feel how it reaches the back of your throat, making you pause at the feeling of your eyes watering slightly as you adjust to the intrusion.

"S'okay, sweet girl. I know ya' can take it deeper" he encourages, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Relax, baby. You're doing so good-" his voice cuts off with a strained grunt. Then, he voices out in a more huskier tone. "Use y'r throat and take my cock like'a good girl"

You push forward, taking him deeper until Joel feels the head of his cock bump the back of your throat. He throws his head back, curls combed slicked now starting to dampen and fall disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, muscles of his thighs taut with trepidation.

You gag slightly yet quickly recover as if to prove something.

"That's right. Why did we wait s' long to do 'tis? Fuck, baby, ya' were born for 'tis. Keep goin'. Y' mouth's drivin' me crazy"

Joel groans as you take him deep, nose pressing against his groin, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your throat constricts around him all while you fight your gag reflex. Then slowly, you pull back, lips sliding along his shaft until just the tip remained in your warm mouth.

"Don't be such'a tease" his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. You just give him what appears to be a shrug and an apologetic smile, right before diving back in, taking him to the hilt once more. His hips rock involuntarily at the feel, your head bobbing. A guttural moan cuts through his throat, the only other sound in the room aside the wet sounds of your suckling. "S' real bad girl, hun. Wouldn't think a docile lil' doll like ya' would be s' mean"

But he watches you with such adoration in his eyes, completely captivated as you work him over, that you know his words carry no malice behind them. Without a word, he takes your hands, guiding them to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"Let's give 'em somethin' to do, don't 'cha think?"

Suddenly, the pressure ties his stomach in knots, his belly strained under his flannel shirt, slightly protruding in the middle, buttons as tense as his muscles. Joel feels his legs become shaky, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your sweet disposition. If he wasn't one lucky man.

"Y/n" he gasps your name in a choked breath, followed by a strangled grunt, his release building fast as he doesn't dare to . "I'm gonna..."

Joel tries to pull off, thinking having you wrapped around his shaft is enough sin for the day, but then your hands find their way to his legs, keeping him grounded. His eyes widen slightly at the insistent glaze in your determined eyes.

"God damn, doll. What're ya'-"

He doesn't get to finish, his words dissolving into a low, animalistic growl as his orgasm crashes over him. His cock jerks and pulses in your waiting mouth, spilling thick ropes of hot, salty cum down your eager throat, painting its back white.

"Baby, don't" Joel says through a worn down rasp, trying to pull out, but you, his sweet little girlfriend, grips his thighs with an unknown force, keeping him buried deep as you greedily work to milk every last bit of his cum.

"'S 'tis what ya' want, huh? You dirty dirty girl" his voice grows lower, a filthy snarl as his eyes darken a bit more. "Swallow it, then. Take all ma' fucken seed"

He holds your head in place, fingers tangled in your damp hair as he rides out the intense waves of his release. Joel's so inside of you, he can feel your throat working, gulping down every drop he had to give.

Finally, as the last spurts of his climax taper off, he releases you, his chest heaving with exertion. You pull back, a strand of saliva and cum connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his spent cock.

"Like that, dirty girl?" he grabs you by your chin, thumb wiping some of your saliva and his cum off. "Did ya' like the taste f' ma' cum?"

You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him. "I did"

"'S that right? What happened to my angel?"

You laugh, the sound tired and hoarse. "I'm still here"

He pats his thigh, so you sit in there, wrapping your arms around his neck. With a free hand, you remove some curls that have fallen over his worn face.

"Hard'a believe"

You click your tongue. "You were never a believer, Miller"

He lets out an exhausted chuckle. "I believe in you"

Joel revels in the delicate pink hues coating your cheeks. He's so weak for you.

"Now, doll. Be honest with y'r ol' man" he brushes a stray strand off your face, tucking it behind your ear with a delicacy so contrary to the roughness of his hands. "I know when ma' girl's goin' through somethin'"

You seem to grow shy all of the sudden. "You'd be right"

Needless to say, he's intrigued now.

"Care to tell?"

You hide your face on his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and natural odor, even the faint traces of soap. He combs through your hair, lazily.

"Promise you won't laugh" you say as you pull back, to face him.

He raises a hand, expression curious.

"I'd never make fun of 'cha, doll"

"I want you to cum inside me"

The room grows quiet for a minute, an by each second of silence that stretches so is the red across your face. Joel blinks slowly. Once and twice. By the third time, the crease between his brows has become prominent.

"What?"

Your face grows hot as you try to run away, but he stops you.

"Woah, hey. Where ya' goin'?"

"I told you you'd laugh" you pout your lips, flustered.

"I ain't even let out a goddam laugh" he defends himself. "'M just tryna process in here"

You huff. "What's so hard to understand?"

Joel looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Y' really gon' ask me that?"

"Maybe I want to try different things" you play with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.

He obligues you to look by taking you by your chin, gently. A small warm smile adorns his face.

"Different's good"

You reciprocate his smile. Maybe it's that or the fact he can still see his cum glistening your lips, or the thrill of his seed seeping out of your tight walls. Either way, Joel surrenders.

"Ya' know I'll give 'cha anythin' you want" he says, voice low. "Just say da' word"

You gulp. "Yes"

Joel lets out a low, animalistic growl at your breathy acceptance. It was all the permission he needed. He crashes his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire as he grabs you by your hair, right at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and tighter. His other hand roams your body greedily, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth, warm skin beneath.

"We gotta take 'tis out"

He shoves the fabric up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside.

"It's my shirt"

"It's a nuissance"

He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of your naked torso, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipating breath.

"Told ya'" he murmurs, voice rough with desire. "'S fuckin' perfect to be hidin' all that"

Joel leans down, capturing one rosy peak in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling and teasing until it pebbles under his touch. You let out a breathy choked moan, loving the wet of his tongue against your warm skin. Then, his hot breath ghosts over as he utters a simple word that has your core clenching at nothing.

"Mine"

His hand slide down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. Joel can feel the heat of you, the damp patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties. He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding lower, brushing against your clothed sex.

"Can tell she missed me. That ya' weren't lyin', baby. She's fucken wet" he rasps, his voice muffled against your skin.

Joel's fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingertips. He groans, his cock hard again, throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans.

"Fuck, sugar" he mutte4red, his voice rough and low. "S' ready for me already"

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell under his touch.

"Ain't she know me s' goddam well..."

Then, he dips a finger inside your tight, clutching heat, groaning at the way your walls flutter around the intrusion.

"God, you feel s' good" Joel says, voice strained. "S' fucking tight and perfect. I can't wait to feel ya' wrapped 'round my cock, doll. Can't wait any damn longer fo' y'r sweet lil' cunt"

He pumps his finger in and out, thumb still circling your clit. He can feel you getting closer, your hips starting to buck against his hand.

"That's it, baby" he encourages, his voice a low, filthy rumble. "Fuck yourself on ma' fingers. Show me how much ya' want it"

He adds a second finger, then a third, making you yelp as he stretches you open.

"Relax, doll. We've done 'tis before. 'M just preparing her to take ma' dick. You gon' be a good girl and stop fucken squirmin'?"

You nod, pliant, your body starting to tense.

"'Tis ya' reward. Come on ma' fingers like a good girl, and then I'll give 'cha what ya' really want. I'm gon' fill 'tis greedy cunt with my cum an' pump 'cha s' full of it 'til 's drippin' outta ya'"

Joel curls his fingers inside you, rubbing that all too well spot that brings you to tears. He feels you clench down hard, crying out as you come undone. Your orgasm crashes over, body convulsing as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out, he's bringing them to his lips, sucking off your essence from the digits, groaning at the taste of you.

"'S sweet as always"

After that, Joel is quick to shed what's left of his clothing, nearly tearing the old flannel in his haste. He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, his tummy pressing lightly over your abdomen, his weight sinking you down on the mattress.

He then looks down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, glistening parted kiss-swollen lips, and heaving chest.

"I love ya', sweet girl" Joel blurts out, eyes are dark and intense.

He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

"Say y'are mine" voice a low, demanding growl. "Say ya' belong to me, y/n, baby. Say it"

He pushes forward slightly, just the tip of him slipping inside your tight heat. He groans at the feel of you, at how your walls stretch to accommodate him. You let out a small whimper, yet still unable to form coherent sentences.

"I want to hear you say it, angel" Joel presses nonetheless, his voice strained.

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing a little more of his thick length inside you with each thrust. He can feel you getting wetter, core glistening as if your body yielded to his.

"Please, y/n" he begs, voice rough and desperate. "Please, baby... say it. That 'am your first an' last. The only man who ever fucks 'tis sweet cunt"

"I'm yours, Joel" you choke out. "Only yours"

With a final, hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the feel of you, letting out a long low groan.

"Fuck, doll" he gasps, hips starting to move, pistoning in and out of you. "She's just made f'me, ain't she? Gon' make ya' feel good. Give ya' what y'asked for. Lemme take care of it. I like to take care of's mine"

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under you, headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.

"Take it, sugar. Just like ya' wanted. 'Tis dirty mouth n' greedy pussy" Joel growls. "Take ma' cock like a good little girl. Fuck, y' were made f'r 'tis. Made't be fucked hard and deep and full of my cum"

He feels the tight coil of heat in his gut winding tighter and tighter; knows he won't last long.

"Please, Joel" you mewl, desperately clinging to him.

Joel lets out a feral growl at your plea, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He can feel you clenching down around him, body trembling as another orgasm builds deep inside you.

"Ya' want my cum, baby?" he snarls. "Want me t' fill her 'til it's drippin' down y'r legs?"

You nod, too eager.

"Look at that" he chuckles, pounding harder into you, forgetting for a moment he's sixty one. "Such a slut, beggin' for me to flood 'tis sweet pussy with ma' load. 'M gon' give ya' s' much you'll be leakin' for days. Gon' fill her up nicely. I know you gon' make sure not'a single drop goes to waste"

Joel reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Come with me, doll" he demands, growling. "Come on my cock like a good girl n' milk every last drop 'f cum. Show me just how much ya' want it"

With a final, brutal thrust, Joel buries himself balls deep inside you. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as his orgasm rips through him.

"Take it, baby. Let me make ya' mine" His cock jerks and pulses inside you, spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum painting your insides. "Atta girl"

He collapses against you, hips still rocking slightly as the aftershocks of his release roll through him. He can feel you coming around him, pussy clenching and milking his spent cock, trying to pull every last drop of his seed deep inside you, just like you asked for.

Joel's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, heart pounding against yours as he cradles you close.

"Not so bad for an old man"

He snickers, rolling onto his side, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his chest, head pillowed on his arm.

"Brat"

He wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzles into your hair, traces of lavender up his nose.

"But you love me"

Joel sighs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then temple and finally shell of your ear. In that moment, he knows he'll never let you go.

"That I do"

You softly comb his hair, his eyelids fluttering.

"I love you too, Joel"

A beat of silence goes by.

"So..."

"So?"

Joel offers a tired smile, glint of mischief laced somewhere.

"Any other ideas ya' wanna say outloud?"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @iamasaddie

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.” 

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (whoops), creampie, breeding kink (only in the sense that there's no way in hell Javi's pulling out I know, who is she?), semi-public sex (gettin nasty in a grimy bar bathroom), two ass slaps, drinking/alcohol consumption, Jealous Javi, lowkey Javi is a dick (again, who is she writing nothing but fluff?!)

A/N: Shoutout to @yxtkiwiyxt for more horny Javi ideas rotting my brain at all hours of the day!!! 🤠 I can't believe that there has never been a jealousy one shot for these two in the great wide world of the NTL universe, but you bet your ass that Javier Peña is a possessive man to his core and tolerates zero bullshit from any man who dares to even look at you too long 😌 poorly beta'd bc I'm horny and impatient

Can be read as a part of the It's Never Too Late series!

"Another one?"

"Are you trying to make sure I have miserable hangover tomorrow?"

"Me? Never. Just tryin' to make sure you have fun." Your brother David teased, voice oozing with sarcasm as he popped off his barstool, giving you a playful nudge for your accusation.

While you and Javi had made a few trips back to your hometown of Chicago to visit your family since your move to Laredo, most of it had either been spent at your childhood home with your entire family, or at other family events, like your cousin's wedding a few months ago.

And of course, while your brothers, Charlie and David, were a part of your family, there was a substantial difference between spending time with your whole family together, and spending time with just your brothers.

So when they had convinced you and Javi to come out with them to Rossi's, your favorite dive bar in the city, under the guise of a few drinks and time to catch up, you shouldn't have been shocked to find yourself 4 beers and two shots of whisky deep, and preparing for a much longer night ahead of you than originally anticipated.

"'Nother one for you, big guy?" Charlie asked Javi, following behind David to make their way through the hot and sweaty mess of bodies crowding behind the bar for another drink.

"And before you answer, no isn't an option." David added, sneaking up behind Javi and shaking his shoulders.

"God, you are so annoying." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother, jabbing your elbow into his side to keep him from wrestling Javi out of his seat, "Just do two more beers. And I swear, if you come back with another shot, I'm pouring it over your head."

The four of you laughed before your brothers disappeared into the sea of bar patrons, leaving you and Javi giggling at your table.

"Fuck, I haven't drank this much since- God, I don't even remember." Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his head, rubbing the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"Me either." You replied, followed by a long, low burp and more laughter, "I think the last time I was this drunk, I was here with David and Charlie and all their friends watching the Blackhawks lose in the playoffs, but all I remember is Charlie telling me I threw up in a bush and that he had to carry me to our taxi to get home. But don't worry, I promise not to get that drunk tonight."

"Sounds good, party animal." Javi smirked, placing his hand on your thigh under the table, rubbing it back and forth along the denim of your jeans, snickering at your drunken giggles.

The two of you both reached for your drinks, finishing off the last of what was left in your beer bottles, startled when you swore you had heard your name from a voice you knew wasn't Javi's, Charlie's or David's.

"Cubby? Holy shit, is that you?!"

Setting down your drink, you swerved your head over your shoulder, jaw dropping in complete surprise to see Frankie, one of your brother's best friends you had known for as long as you could remember.

"Frankie?! Oh my god, what the fuck?! Hi!" You squealed, shooting up out of your seat to give him a hug, the alcohol already in your system perhaps making you a little more enthusiastic about your greeting you would have been otherwise.

"What the hell are you doing here?! I thought the goons said you moved to Texas after everything that happened!" Frankie asked excitedly, parting from your hug to take a step back and look at you, shocked by your presence.

"I did, but I'm here visiting for the week! Charlie and David are at the bar right now getting drinks, but they'll be back in a second! Frankie, oh my god, I'm so happy to see you!" You grinned, giving him a playful shove.

"Me too. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! You- You look great-" He paused, trying his best to play off his comment, quickly shifting topics, "Things uh, everything's been going good for you?"

"Yeah, things have been great! How about you? Wait, we have a table right here, do you wanna sit down and catch up? Unless you're busy, I don't wanna keep you!" You offered, gesturing towards the table behind you where Javi was sitting.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be fuckin' great! I'm meetin' a few buddies here later, but I have plenty of time to catch up if you guys have some room to squeeze me in!"

While you knew there would be plenty of room for one more person at your table, even after your brothers returned, what you didn't know is that since the moment Frankie had shown up, everything about Javi's once happy and carefree demeanor had completely changed.

And not for the better.

As soon as you turned around to face Javi, you could immediately sense the shift in tension, watching his brow furrow and hand wrap tighter around the neck of the near empty beer bottle he was nursing, practically burning a hole through Frankie with the way he was staring him down.

It seemed like Frankie could immediately sense it too, looking over at you before looking back at Javi, as if to silently ask who the hell was sitting with you and your brothers, looking like he was ready to commit murder, at the very least.

"Who's uh...." Frankie paused, awkwardly laughing as he nodded at Javi, trying his best to not seem off-put by Javi's clearly uncomfortable expression.

"I'm so sorry, Frank, this is my-"

"Fiancé. Javi." Javi stated, cutting off the rest of your introduction as he stood up out of his seat, sizing up Frankie as he offered a forceful handshake.

"Fiancé? Lucky guy." Frankie replied, forcing a friendly smile as he shook Javi's hand, "Congrats, I had no idea you were engaged." He shrugged, looking back at you with a more genuine expression before awkwardly shuffling around the table to find a seat across from you and Javi.

"Thanks, we got engaged in November and the wedding's in July!" You chimed in, hoping to try and ease Javi's obvious, unwarranted hostility towards Frankie.

"Oh nice!" Frankie nodded, smiling at both you and Javi, the crinkle in his cheeks dropping at Javi's still unamused facade, "Where you guys gettin' married? Here or Texas?"

"Texas." Javi answered, short and snappy with his response.

"Frank the Tank? No fuckin' way man! What's up?!"

The three of you all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at David's voice, turning your head to see him and Charlie making their way back, beers in hand.

"What's up, you goons? Long time, no see!" Frankie grinned, standing up to greet your brothers with happy pats on the back.

As the three of them said their 'hello's' you stayed put next to Javi, whapping his shoulder with the back of your hand, forcing him to face the frustrated frown plastered across your expression.

"What the fuck was that for?" You whispered to him, not wanting to draw any attention from your brothers and Frankie as they caught up.

"What?" Javi asked, shrugging nonchalantly before taking another sip of his beer, setting down the empty bottle with a forceful thud.

"W-what- What the fuck do you mean, 'what'?" You frowned, quickly realizing that Javi was trying to play dumb about the clearly uncomfortable interaction he and Frankie had just been through.

Javi silently shrugged again, jaw ticking from side to side as he looked back and forth between you and Frankie before speaking again.

"Just have never heard of Frankie before today. Didn't know you'd be so excited to see someone I didn't even know existed until five minutes ago."

"I've known Frankie since I was like, six years old. He's been one of my brother's best friends for like, ever. So yes, I was excited to see him. Would you like me to disclose every other person I've ever met and not mentioned to you, too?" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling your scowl sink deeper into the wrinkles of your forehead.

Both groups of conversations seemed to lull at the same time, Frankie, David and Charlie all turning back towards your table to see the sour looks on both yours and Javi's faces.

"You good?" Charlie asked, handing a beer to you and then one to Javi.

"Listen, it was super nice to see all of you guys, but I don't wanna overstay my welcome or anything. I can just wait at the bar for my buddies if the four of you wanna hang out." Frankie suggested, clearly realizing he must have been the shift for the change of tone at the table.

"What, you're gonna catch up with these two idiots and leave me hanging? Seriously, please stay, we haven't hung out all together in forever!"

While Javi was able to make it subtle enough to everyone else, you could clearly tell that your invitation was the exact opposite of what he was hoping to hear.

"Only if you're-"

"Yes, I'm sure, Frankfurter, get a drink and sit your ass down!" You insisted, shooing Frankie towards the bar along with your brothers, the three of you howling over Frankie's long forgotten childhood nickname.

If he hadn't made it blatantly clear before, your avid encouragement for Frankie to join your group certainly had.

Right now, Javier Peña was one thing, and one thing only.

Jealous.

"I still can't believe you won't admit that I beat you!"

"Because you didn't!"

"I did, and you know it, David! C'mon you guys, back me up here!"

It hadn't taken much for the five of you to down a few more drinks- For four of you, you let the alcohol flowing through your veins loosen you up even more, laughing and reminiscing about your favorite shared childhood memories, teasing and taunting each other over the silly trials and tribulations of your youth.

For the other, the few beers and glasses of whisky swirling around in his stomach were nothing but a way to keep from saying (or doing) something out of spite that he'd regret.

"I'm gonna be honest with you here, Dave, I'm not gonna say that your sister's right, buuuut...." Frankie smirked, holding up his beer bottle to you, giving you a silent cheers of approval.

"See?! Told you! Thank you, Frankie, at least someone knows what they're talking about." You teased, giving David a jab in his stomach as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Dare I say, Cubby is more of a badass than either of you two clowns, but I don't know if you can handle that conversation yet." Frankie smiled, reaching across the table for a fist bump, "She's a pretty kick ass hockey player, ya know."

Javi had been so focused on picking at the waterlogged label of his beer bottle, he hadn't even noticed that Frankie was trying to talk to him, only looking in his direction after a nudge from your brother.

"Hmm?" Javi hummed, barely bothering to look in Frankie's direction to acknowledge his comment.

"I said your fiancé is a badass. Didn't know if you knew how good she was at hockey, that's all." Frankie shrugged, before taking another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, why the fuck would I not know that? She's my fiancé." Javi huffed, jaw clenching.

"Javi, seriously?" You whispered, shooting him a stern look as you had to quite literally bite your tongue to keep from causing a scene at the way he was behaving.

"Sorry, man, I- I was just givin' her a compliment." Frankie grimaced, shooting you an apologetic look from across the table.

"Yeah, I think you've made it pretty fucking clear how much you like complimenting her." Javi grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear and to having you fuming at your fiancé's enraging behavior.

You took one long, low deep breath, trying to compose yourself as the rest of the table sat in uncomfortable silence, wishing they had a chainsaw to cut through the palpable tension shrouding the air.

"Can I talk to you for a second, please?"

Javi knew just as well as you that even though you had phrased it as a question, he certainly had no choice in the matter, begrudgingly trailing behind you as you silently excused the both of you from the table.

In a stark silence, Javi followed behind you through the sea of drunken strangers that filled the bar until you reached a semi quiet hallway near the back of the building by the bathrooms.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your back bounced against the wall, using it to prop yourself as you stared at Javi, arms folded over his chest and eyes wandering in anywhere but your direction.

"What the fuck is going on, Javi? And don't bullshit me and say that you don't know what I'm talking about because you clearly do." You demanded, nostrils flaring and fists clenched.

"Like I really need to fucking say it." Javi huffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"You don't, because you've made it very clear, but yeah, I'd like to hear you say it."

You could feel the heat seething through your veins as Javi chewed at the inside of his lip, trying to bide whatever time he could to keep from bruising his pride.

"Wow, I really cannot believe this. You're seriously that threatened by Frankie?" You scoffed, stunned that Javi couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"I'm not fuckin' threatened by him." He spit back, eyes peeled to the ground. "He's just way too fucking comfortable with you."

"Oh, you cannot be serious. Because I've known him forever and he's a nice guy? Jesus Christ, Javi."

"I've been watching the way he's been fucking looking at you since the moment he said hello to you. How he's talking to you, acting with you, it's like- Jesus, it's like he trying to-"

"What? Like he's trying to flirt with me? Like he likes me?" You questioned, raising your voice enough to finally get Javi to look at you, letting him feel the frustration you were engulfed in.

"Yes! Jesus fucking Christ, yes!" Javi groaned back, growing more heated by the second.

"And what if he was, Javi? What if he was trying to flirt with me? Do you really in your right mind think that I would ever, EVER pick him above you?" You asked, throwing up your hands in defeat, voice trembling as you fought back tears, "So what if he was? I'm yours, Javi, and I've got the fucking ring on my finger to prove it."

You and Javi stood in silence for a moment, watching each other's chests rise and fall on beat. You swear you can see it in his eyes, the way everything about Javi seems to shift, realizing how badly he'd fucked tonight up.

Before you can get in another word, you can see Javi's eyes lock on the single stall bathroom door that's swung open at the end of the hallway, looking once at you and once again at the bathroom. You weren't even able to protest before he had grabbed you by the hand, checking once over his shoulder before ushering you inside and locking the door behind him.

As the lock clicked, you could feel the heat in your cheeks burning, and not just with anger like they were a few moments ago. The dim light of the bathroom flickered over the shadowy figure of Javi's broad body until he had your back flushed against the sink, pinning you between the porcelain and him.

"Javi, what are you-"

Suddenly, Javi had one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your hip as he craned his neck down to let his lips collide with yours.

The angry part of you wanted to push him off you, to berate him with your frustrations until he apologized for how childishly he had behaved tonight.

Every other part of you that was so turned on by the fact Javi was so worked up, he had no other choice than to fuck you in the bathroom to prove that you were his, couldn't have cared less about it.

"You're all fucking mine, you know that?" Javi growled, his words warm against your skin, muffled between messy kisses.

"I'm all yours, Javi." You moaned, fighting to let each word escape from your lips as your mouths became frantic, colliding with tongues and teeth.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as Javi's hands slid down your sides, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on your jeans until he the denim and your underwear pooled around your ankles.

After your jeans had dropped to the ground, his hands were back on your sides, fingertips digging into your skin as he flipped you around, your stomach pressed against the countertop, ass flushed against his hips where you could feel the strain of his cock beneath his pants.

"No one else gets to have you like this. Gets to make you feel like I do." Javi groaned, your core aching at the clanking of his belt coming undone behind you, watching his brow furrow in concentration in the reflection from the mirror in front of you, "Do they, baby?"

"N-No." You whimpered, feeling him run his tip through your folds, collecting the slick that had already begun pooling between your thighs.

"You gonna let me fuck you right here in this bathroom, hermosa? Let everyone here know that you're mine?" Javi mewled, whispering into your ear as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Mhmmmhh." You nodded, whining as Javi teased you with the head of his cock, prodding at your entrance, "Please."

Javi chuckled softly to himself, hearing you gasp as he filled you with every inch of him, hips pressed firmly against your ass. You could practically feel your eyes roll to the back of your head with how full he felt inside you, despite how easily you had taken him from how wet and worked up you were.

"Love this pussy so much, baby. Always so fucking wet and tight for me."

Your eyes opened as Javi began to thrust into you, startled by the already deliberate pace he was setting with each snap of his hips. Staring back at the mirror, you could see the smug smirk spreading between Javi's cheeks, knowing how quickly he could make you crumble.

Your hands shot back behind you, wrapping around Javi's stomach, trying to grab fist fulls of his shirt to brace yourself as he fucked into you. With the grip Javi had around your hips, you shouldn't have been worried about going anywhere, only about the marks that he'd leave in the pump flesh of your skin after he was finished.

"Oh fuck, Javi! Fuck, oh my godddd-" You moaned, all consumed by the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, perfectly pounding at your g-spot with every thrust.

You tried to let your head dip back, but before you could tilt it any further, one of Javi's hands had shifted, snaking up your front and wrapping around your jaw, forcing your gaze back in the mirror to meet his.

"Nuh uh, mi amor," he paused, gritting his teeth as he swore under his breath, trying to compose himself, "need to see you, Osita. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum and fuck you so fucking full of me, you're gonna feel me dripping out of you all night."

His words had seemed to spark something feral in the both of you, moaning his name as you backed your ass up further into him, taking everything that he had to give.

With your eyes locked in filthy glass reflection, Javi's hand slid back down your sides, smacking your ass before reaching around to your front, slotting himself between your thighs to find your clit, puffy and aching to be touched.

"Fuck, Javi! Feels so fucking good." You whined, the newfound pressure of his fingers against your clit causing the tingle building at the base of your spine to grow rapidly.

"Yeah? And who's the only one that gets to make you feel this good, baby?" Javi grunted, hips slapping against your ass, each thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last.

With the way Javi was fucking you, you felt lucky that your brain could manage to string together a coherent thought, let a lone a comprehendible sentence, your words heavy and breathless as you fought against the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm starting to creep through your body.

"You! It's- fuck- it's you Javi! Only you!" You sobbed, praying that the music and chatter of the bar was loud enough to drown out your volume.

"That's my girl." Javi devilishly grinned, feeling the way your cunt was clamping down around his cock, sensing how close you were to finishing, "Gotta cum first for me, hermosa. Fuckin' soak me before I cum so deep inside of you."

Javi began to circle your clit faster, putting just enough pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves to push you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm began to crash through you.

"Fuck, Javi! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-ahhhhh!"

You could feel how instantly limp your body had gone, so drunk on pleasure, that if Javi hadn't been behind you, holding you up, you were convinced you would have collapsed over the edge of the sink you were fucking on.

You knew Javi wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic as he chased his own high, desperate to make good on his promise to fill you with every last drop he had to give.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm- mierda- I'm close. Gonna give you everything. Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to. Feels so fucking- fuck- so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one last pump of his cock, Javi was spilling inside you, painting your walls with his spend, burying himself inside your cunt until he you had taken everything he had to give.

The warmth and wetness of your mixed arousal pooled where your bodies met, making a mess between your thighs as Javi began to pull out.

The both of you watched as your bodies rose and fell in the mirror, trying desperately to catch your breath in your post orgasmic haze. It wasn't long until your unhinged jaws were replaced with devious smirks, Javi grabbing you by the waist to flip him back towards him, pulling you to his chest as he kissed you.

"Damn, maybe I should make you jealous more often." You teased, biting down on your lip as you gave Javi a loving poke on his chest before reaching down to pull your pants back up your legs.

"Whatever." Javi sighed, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he did the same, looping his belt back through his jeans. He let out another deep breath, arms crossed over his chest as he looked up at you with a sheepish shrug, "I'm- fuck. I'm sorry about tonight. I was a dick."

"It's okay." You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to drape your arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "I love you. And only you. I don't think you could get rid of me, even if you tried. And I think that me letting you fuck me in this dirty ass bar bathroom proves that."

The two of you laughed, turning back to the mirror to readjust the sweaty mats of tangled hair and crinkled clothes in hopes of avoiding any suspicions when you made your way back to the table.

"I know. Still shouldn't have been an asshole about it." He shrugged, stepping behind you so that his chest was pressed against your back and arms were draped across your front, his mustache tickling your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "This was fucking hot, though."

"It was. Feel sorry for the next person who has to use this bathroom." You grimaced, hoping that you hadn't managed to leave a trace of the ways you had further disrespected the dingy restroom.

"You wanna head out first, or should I?" Javi asked, rocking you back and forth in his grasp, swaying you just enough to make you burst out into giggles.

"It's so late and I'm sure everyone here is hammered, we probably just could sneak out at the same time and no one would notice." You suggested, still drunk enough to not care enough about a proper escape plan.

After one last kiss and smack of your ass, Javi quickly cracked open the door, doing one swift scan before giving you the nod to note the coast was clear.

Javi grabbed you by the hand, looking back at you with a stupid smirk as the two of you left the bathroom, unsuspecting and assuming that you'd be able to make it down the hallway without any run ins.

Unfortunately, Javi hadn't noticed the body across the bar, making a B-line to the bathroom through the drunken crowd towards the bathrooms after his half-assed check.

Before any of you could process it, Javi collided with the other person, both people grunting and stumbling backwards, mumbling apologies as they collected themselves, until they locked eyes.

"Oh, uh- Sorry. Didn't uh- Didn't see you guys coming." Frankie stammered, looking back and forth between you and Javi and the bathroom you had just emerged from, quickly piecing the puzzle before him together.

"All good. See you, uh- see you back at the table." Javi winced, trying his best to keep from laughing as both your cheeks began to turn a bright shade of pink as you slid past Frankie.

"Looks like you may not end up being the only jealous one tonight, Jav."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[bumblebeezer]

“Prove It.”

Prompt:  kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, even though it’s a lie, and the kiss proves it

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Word Count: ~2200

Warnings: potentially ooc, reader is shorter than Din, idk please please please lmk if i’ve missed something that you feel needs a warning!!!

Summary: Peli’s meddling leads to some kissy kissies. Shy Mando. Giving me season one vibes honestly??? Imagine season one setting (literally just the Razor Crest) with season 3 relationships. Hope y’all enjoy!!!

Mando’s frustrated grunt echoed off of the paneling of the Razor Crest, followed by a muttered curse, his voice crackling through the modulator. 

“Dank farrik.” 

Peli, who was currently watching as her repair droids dutifully attempted to complete her share of work (and taking their sweet time, if you asked her), snorted and raised her brows.

“What’s eatin’ at ya, Mando?” 

The Mandalorian growled, the noise low, coming from the back of his throat. As much as he…appreciated Peli, her commentary left much to be desired. 

“Kriffing panel…” Din muttered, his gloved hand tightening around the wrench as he briefly entertained the thought of throwing it as far as he could. Peli groaned and rose from her chair, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Well, maybe if you weren’t flying something pre-Imperial, you wouldn’t have these problems!” 

Din sighed behind the beskar helmet, the puff of air crackling through the modulator. There was no point in retorting, especially when Peli got to work beside him, inspecting the paneling with an unimpressed look. She opened her mouth to speak when the sound of a familiar pair of footsteps drifted into Peli’s hangar, accompanied by the shrill giggles of the child. 

Mando straightened at the sound of your voice, his helmet barely concealing the way he nervously cleared his throat. 

“We’re back!” You chirped, the child echoing you with a delighted chirp of his own. “The markets were kind of dry, but little guy and I still found some supplies.”

You turned the corner, said little guy in your arm, your other hand holding a few bags, a wide, genuine smile on your face. 

“…That’s good,” Mando replied, the tension in his shoulders melting away at the sight of you holding his foundling. Your smile somehow brightened. Din felt his knees going weak. 

Unaware of the Mandalorian’s inner turmoil, you stepped forward, chattering with Peli about the market’s outrageous prices, and gently placed Grogu into Din’s waiting arms, your smile softening as he gave his foundling a nod.

“I’ll go ahead and put these up,” you hummed, holding up your bags and giving the two a nod of your own before turning and briskly walking up the ramp, disappearing into the Razor Crest, Din’s t-shaped visor slowly following your movements along the way. 

Grogu’s little clawed hand was reaching for Din’s gloved fingertip when Peli snapped him from his reverie, clearing her throat. 

“…Well,” she drawled, not even bothering to brush the Tatooine dust from her hands before clapping Mando on the back. “Look at you, Mando! I knew there was a heart somewhere inside all that beskar.” 

Din’s helmet whipped around, his glare palpable even through the opaque t-visor. He scoffed and shook his head, as if her claim wasn’t even worth dignifying with an audible denial. Truthfully, he was just convinced he’d prove her point if he opened his mouth. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles, turning to face the Razor Crest’s faded paneling, Grogu still balanced in his arm.

Peli merely scoffs, her voice loud and carefree as always. “Oh, come on, Mando! You perk up whenever they come around like an ectotherm in the twin suns. If you don’t have feelings for her then I’m next in line for Daimyo of Tatooine.”

Din stiffened and whirled around to glance at the open gangway, his heart pounding within his armored chest. 

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, modulator crackling beneath his helmet. 

“Pft, it’s not like they’re gonna overhear,” Peli waved a hand, unbothered by Din’s distress. “And besides, Mando, they probably already know. You’re not exactly subtle—“ 

A pair of footsteps stomping against the gangway interrupted the mechanic as you rejoined the two at the base of the ship. 

“Subtle about what?” You asked, eyeing Mando with a suspiciously amused look. Beneath the helmet, Din floundered for something to say, barely managing to mutter a soft “Nothing,” at the same time as Peli exclaimed, “His feelings for you, obviously!” 

You merely laughed, placing your hands on your hips and turning from Peli to Din. “Peli, I don’t know what they put into your Jet Juice, but Mando and I are just…work associates.” 

Your amused smile faltered for a moment. Could you call Mando a friend? Would he allow it? 

“Strictly professional,” you continued, like the two of you didn’t co-parent Grogu on a daily basis, falling into the routine as if you’d been doing it for years. “I could probably kiss him and get no reaction.” Your smile turned smug, baiting Peli, who, to Din’s horror, took the bait with a smug smile of her own.

“Alright, then,” she placed her hand on her hips. “Prove it.”

You scoffed, your cheeks warming, but otherwise appearing the picture of confidence. 

Time slowed for Din as you approached, striding toward him with purpose. He tensed, Grogu cooing curiously in his arms, as you reached up with gentle hands, cupping the carved cheeks of his beskar helmet, careful not to jostle it. 

Din held his breath as you slowly stood on your toes, pressing your forehead to his. After a moment, his shoulders relaxed and he tilted his head downward, returning the gentle headbutt.

Pulling away, you turned to give Peli a smug look.

“See? No reaction.”

Peli threw out her arms, gesturing toward you three. “What kind of a kiss was that?” 

“A Mandalorian one,” Din grunted through his helmet, carefully placing Grogu back into your arms before turning back toward the paneling, getting back to work as if nothing had happened.

He was vaguely aware of Peli walking away, grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “not even a real kiss” under her breath. But he couldn’t focus on it too much. Not with the way his heart was stuttering in his chest.

~

The twin suns of Tatooine had gone down by the time the Mandalorian retired into the Razor Crest, watching as you and Grogu showed off the goodies you’d snagged from the markets earlier that day while he cleaned his blaster. 

He typically gave you his full attention, responding to the child’s interjecting coos and gurgles. But this time, he was noticeably quiet (well—quieter than usual), giving you nods instead of his usual dry-humored one-liners. 

With a faltering smile, you cleared your throat and picked Grogu up, stroking the wiry hairs atop his little head as he yawned. “I’m going to put him to bed,” you hummed, watching as Mando gave the child’s clawed hand an affectionate squeeze. 

Making your way toward the bunk Din and Grogu shared, you gave the little green guy a strained smile. “Maybe I took things too far earlier. Do you think so?” 

As if in response, Grogu gave you a little frown, gurgling softly, his large eyes drooping shut. 

Bidding the little one goodnight, you made your way back to the table to find that Din had disappeared. Frowning, you climbed up into the cockpit to find the Mandalorian in question setting up the ship’s shields. Grunting, you pulled yourself up and crept closer, crossing your arms. 

“Alright, Mando. What is it? Credit for your thoughts?” 

The Mandalorian didn’t turn to face you, keeping his visor trained on the controls instead. “You can’t afford ‘em, cyar’ika,” he muttered, no real heat to his voice. He was teasing you, then.

“Was it the Keldabe kiss?” You continued, lips pulling into a frown. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed it was alright—“

“It’s fine,” he interrupts, voice gruff as he distracts himself with the control panel. “Peli was right, anyways. Wasn’t a real kiss—“

“Mando—“

“Wasn’t much of a Keldabe kiss, either—“

“Mando-“

“You’ve got to really headbutt your partner so they know that you mean it—” 

“DIN!” 

The Mandalorian paused and finally turned to meet your gaze, the t-shaped visor of his helmet as imposingly neutral as ever. 

Your cheeks were warm as you stared up at him, eyes narrowed in some sort of exasperation. 

“…Would you like a real kiss?” 

Now, Din’s heard all kinds of jokes and taunts as a result of the Mandalorian armor he wears. He’s heard accusations that he’s made of tin, that he’s inhuman, a mere droid beneath the armor. All untrue, of course. But in that moment, he may as well be a droid with the way his brain short circuits at your words. 

“…What?”

You sauntered forward, arms loosely crossed over your chest, and shrugged, as if this were totally normal. 

“Did you want a kiss? Not a Keldabe kiss, but a—a standard kiss.”

You held the Mandalorian’s gaze. At least, you held the gaze of his t-visor, unable to see his shocked face within. You noticed the way his back straightened, his shoulders tensing nervously, but you pressed on. 

“Just to prove Peli wrong, of course,” you shrugged again. “I mean…we certainly can’t kiss in front of her without her seeing your face. But I could blindfold myself and she’ll just have to take our word for it—”

“Yes.” 

The words are barely out of your mouth before the Mandalorian is agreeing, so quick that it leaves you reeling for a moment. 

“I—” “Yes,” Mando repeats, already standing in front of you, his helmet tilted downwards. “To prove Peli wrong,” he adds, his voice sounding a little strained. 

You give him a nod, producing a blindfold in the form of an old scarf. It’s as you’re tying a knot at the back of your head that Din realizes what he’s just agreed to. His thoughts begin racing. What if he’s bad at it? What if he’s noticeably bad at this? He’s never kissed anyone before, and, oh, Maker above, this is his first kiss—

“You alright?” 

Even with the blindfold on, you can sense the Mandalorian’s nervous energy, and you give him a little smile. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you murmur. 

“I want to,” Din murmurs, still looking down at you, blindfolded and smiling nervously and waiting and all for him. You hear the sound of something leathery hitting the floor of the Razor Crest, and then you hear the hiss of the decompressor as he removes his helmet, and suddenly it’s your turn to swallow nervously, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides as his hands—no gloves—are cupping your jaw, his left thumb gently stroking your cheek. You hold your breath, the anticipation making your chest tight in a way that’s strangely pleasant, and wait for Din to move. After all, you’re the one wearing the blindfold, the ball’s entirely in his court. 

He takes a moment, just staring down at you, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, just openly admiring you without the haze of the filters in his helmet, noting the exact tone of your skin, the pink pout of your lips, the color of your hair. 

Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, barely suppressing a hum of pleasure at the way you gasp against his lips. Otherwise, you don’t move, standing stiffly while he kisses you. It’s a chaste thing, really. Just a peck that goes on a little longer than it usually would. But you’re just as breathless when you pull away, panting slightly. 

“See?” You grin, eyes crinkling beneath the blindfold as you desperately try to even your breathing, to calm your racing heart. You open your mouth to say something else—probably some stupid joke—when Din’s pressing his lips against yours again, one of his hands leaving your cheek to tangle in your hair. You moan softly against him, eyes fluttering closed beneath the blindfold, and practically melt into him. He mirrors your moan (though it sounds a little more desperate than yours, more of a whimper than a moan, perhaps) and presses himself against you. He’s forgone his helmet for this kiss, but the rest of his armor remains attached to his flight suit, and you steady yourself against his chest, your palms warm against the cold beskar. 

When you pull away, you’re both properly panting, your lips blindly chasing after him. “Din…” 

You murmur his name, silently asking for more, lips pouting when he doesn’t immediately give you another kiss. 

“Cyar’ika…” 

His voice is gravelly even without the modulator, and delightfully pitched, like he’s silently begging you for more, too. 

Suddenly, you feel his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling as his hands find and cup your jaw, gently holding you close. 

“Cyar’ika, I…” 

Din sighs, his eyes closing, his shoulder slumping in some sort of defeat. 

“Cyar’ika, there’s something I need to tell you,” he breathes, watching your face for any sign of disgust or rejection. “Peli was right,” he mutters. “I…I…care for you. More than an associate. More than a friend. You mean so much to me—you and the kid. I don’t know what I would do if…if you weren’t here with us.” 

He swallows, the sound audible in the quiet of the ship, shoulders tensing as he waits for you to pull away and tell him you don’t feel the same way, to demand that he drop you off at the nearest spaceport once the Razor Crest is fit to fly again. 

Imagine his surprise as you merely grin up at him (eyes crinkling beneath the blindfold yet again), cup his cheeks and pull him down for another kiss, murmuring two words against his lips: “Prove it.”

[myownwholewildworld]

THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG ― dbf!mechanic!joel oneshot

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: dbf!mechanic!joel x f!reader. summary: your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it? a/n: well, well, well... what can i say? this whole uniformed!joel shit is giving me proper brain rot. i don't know what came over me while writing this but i just rolled with it. i do appreciate any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated hehe. enjoy! x edit: forgot to mention this oneshot was prompted by this ask! warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. juicy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 48). rough, ABSOLUTE filth & i'm not even sorry. some edging. semi-public groping? masturbation (f and m receiving). oral (f and m receiving). pussy pronouns (she/her). unprotected piv. mouth fucking. very mild brat taming kink. transactional sex. alternating pov. reader is female but that's about it. w/c: ~8.9k of pure filth. divider by @cafekitsune

“Ugh, not again, c’mon!”

Your cranky little car did not have it in it anymore. It was almost fifteen years old now, having passed down from your older brother to you when you turned sixteen five years ago. Out of pure frustration, you hit the steering wheel with the palm of your hand and let out a raspy grunt.

The check engine light had lit up on the dash, which was what caused your fit. And then, as if orchestrated by the universe, the engine made a loud, clicking noise. You flattened your forehead against the wheel, your fingers curling around the rubbery texture with a tight grip.

“You stupid car!”, you screamed at it as if it was a sentient being. “I’m broke, you cannot die on me like this!”

You were on the parking lot of a café. Early that afternoon you had met with some friends to celebrate the beginning of summer and the end of the academic year. One more and you would be done with your degree ― it looked so damn far away, but you still had this summer to look forward to.

Rummaging through your purse, you finally located your cellphone and quickly dialled your dad.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, dad. I’m at Betty’s. The fucking light has come on again?!”

“Watch your mouth!”, he reprimanded you from the other side of the line. You could hear him huff and puff with disapproval. “I think your car is on its last legs, gonna have to think about buying one.”

“You know I can’t afford that, all my savings are going into my degree. I’ll just have to get it fixed for now.”

“Take it to Joel’s then. See what he thinks.”

“But it’s a Sunday, you think he’ll be open?”

“That man is a workaholic, you bet his business is open today.”

“Alright, you reckon he’ll do it for free?”

“For free?” He laughed; you could imagine him shaking his head. “I doubt it, but maybe he’ll give you a discount. Gotta go, little bug. I’ll see you at dinner. If you can make it, obviously.” He mocked you.

“Ha, ha… So funny. Talk to you later.” And you hung up.

The drive to Joel’s garage was a fucking torture. Every time the engine made a squealing noise, your heart would jolt to your throat. You tried to encourage it, whispering sweet nothings in the hopes it would get appeased and make it to Joel’s repair shop.

You also got distracted by your filthy mind. Joel had been in your DILF radar since you were nineteen. Three years ago, your dad celebrated his 45th birthday with a barbecue in the middle of summer. Joel had turned up in a white tee shirt, khaki shorts and flipflops, with untamed silvery curls and a crate of beer under his arm.

When the Texan heat became unbearable, he had stripped himself of his clothes, fashioning a pair of short swim trunks that had left you breathless and wet. When you watched him get out of the water later that afternoon, you could have sworn that the tip of his dick had shown briefly before he discreetly tucked it away. That image had been burnt into your retinas and haunted you since then.

Unconsciously you licked your bottom lip, your core molten with slick, as the car came to a halt. You had arrived at your destination.

There was an old Ford at the front of the garage, someone working under the hood. When the driver’s door of your car slammed against the frame, Joel peeked up from the engine he was working on.

His eyes flickered with recognition. He grabbed an old rag to clean his big, veiny hands of grease and oil. You wondered what else would be big and veiny. Stop it, you dirty fucker, you told yourself.

“Hey, Joel!” You waved at him with a smile.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the grin staying on your plump lips.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Joel. Have not been for a long time now, y’know.” You punctuated, unsure of what you were trying to achieve with that comment. Well, you knew, but did not want to admit it to yourself.

“Oh, I know”, he husked, his voice suddenly gruff.

Tilting your head to one side, you looked at him with question marks in your pupils. Why had he accentuated that “know”? And why all the sudden was your cunt gushing? How could he make you wet with three simple words? You were going to need to request a booty call that night from your friend with benefits.

“Uh, uhmm”, you laughed nervously. “The engine light on my car has come on for the third time this week and the motor is making weird noises, could you check it out for me, please?”

“Sure thing, lemme see.” He took the keys from your hand, electricity cracking between you.

You pursed your lips, a gesture he did not pick up on. Joel walked to the driver’s side, activated something and then the hood popped open. He walked around to the front of the car and propped the hood up with the metal rod that was inside.

As Joel was inspecting the motor with his broad hands, you put one foot in front of the other in a vain attempt to rub your knees together and cause some friction in your needy cunt. You squeezed your thighs some more as you watched him work with his hands, and you imagined what it would feel like if he was working you instead.

Oof! Take it down a notch, girl, you thought to yourself when your clit twitched in desperation.

Then Joel turned around to look at you.

“When was the last time you changed the timing belt?”

“The... what now?” Your mind was hazy with lust, but even if you had been at your full mental capacity, you wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.

“The timing belt. In the engine. What ensures that the camshaft and crankshaft rotate in sync?” He looked at you with a cocked brow, cleaning his hands again on that old rag.

Oh, I would pay big bucks to be that rag.

“Are you even speaking English?”, you replied back, partially because you really had no idea what he was talking about, partially because your brain was all mushy with desire.

“I’ll take that as a ‘never’ then. You should really get it replaced, seems like that’s your problem. Have you had trouble starting the car?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, this very morning.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. You need to change it asap, if it breaks while you’re driving it would be bad, very bad. You could have an accident. Also trying to fix it after it’s broken will cost you even more.”

“So… will I need to break the bank?” You asked, already flinching at the idea.

Joel seemed to take a second to consider your options, leaning against the passenger’s door and scratching his scruffy beard.

“It’ll be $800.”

Your heart almost stopped, your mouth agape.

“Eight fucking hundred?” He nodded. “Well, can I― Can you not give me a bit of a discount here? You are best friends with my dad. Pretty please?” You laced your fingers together in a prayer and batted your eyelashes at him.

With a low grunt, he straightened his back and folded arms at his chest.

“I’m already giving you one. I would usually charge $1100. You’re already getting a bargain.”

“Well, what about $300?” You counteroffered.

Joel’s brows knitted together and then loudly scoffed.

“What? You think I’m a fucking charity? No, kiddo. $800 and that’s it. If I go any lower, I’d be losing money. Got a business to run here.”

You really did not have $800 bucks to spare. In fact, you barely had five hundred bucks to your name. Asking your family for money was not an option either ― not because you were proud (you were), but because money was tight. Your parents already had enough struggles as it was, you did not want to add to the pile.

You visibly pouted and stumped one foot against the gravel, vexed. A loud sigh slipped through your lips as you pressed the heel of your hands against your eye sockets. You needed the car.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you looked at Joel with puppy eyes, covering the distance that was between you. Pleading, you palmed his strong forearm, your fingers wrapping around the girth of his muscles.

For a brief second, you wondered if you would be able to fully grip his erection. Would your fingertips be able to touch your thumb? Or would he be so thick you would need both hands to handle him?

“Joel, pl―please?”, you stammered, your arousal playing games with your vocal cords.

Unwillingly, he scanned your body up and down ― slowly, taking his time, pondering his options.

Joel had wanted to fuck you for three years now, since your lustful eyes widened at the sight of only his tip on that dreadful summer day. He could vividly remember the way you had chewed your bottom lip as you watched him slide his cock back in his swim trunks, shamelessly, without blinking. You only stopped devouring him when someone talked to you, snapping out of your trance.

That night, when he got home, he had jerked himself off with you in his mind. He had imagined your plump lips sealed around his glans, the tip of your tongue playfully caressing the slit ― your sparkly eyes looking up at him, dreamy and teary, imploring. He had taken his sweet time, rejoicing in his fantasy, until he had spilled in the palm of his hand, as if he was a hormonal teenager. And every time he would fuck someone to find relief, he would visualize your cunt sheathing him, clamping down on his dick like a beartrap.

Ever since then, every time his eyes landed on you, his blood would boil and his cock would harden. Just like now, dick pounding against his boxers, begging to be paid due attention. With the eyes of his imagination, he saw himself letting go and throwing you into the back of your car, drilling your pussy relentlessly until you came wailing, asking for more.

Joel sucked in his breath ― he needed to calm down, distract himself with something else. You were his best friend’s daughter. He shouldn’t be daydreaming about fucking you stupid. He had seen you grow since you were a babe.

Never thought of you any other way until that fateful barbeque, when he realised you were a full grown ass woman. Suddenly he had seen you for what you were: a fuckable brat who could get his cock rock-hard with the simple lick a of a lip.

An idea formed as you begged him. You looked desperate ― desperate enough to him at least.

Joel cracked his tongue, his expression unwavering. But if you could see, you would know his cock was throbbing already.

“Well. I do have an idea.” His words dragged, his erection making him feel uncomfortable.

“You do? I’m all ears!” You exclaimed with a lopsided grin, your delicate fingers tighter around his forearm.

His head snapped to his right, pointing to a sign that read “Hand Car Wash”.

“If you help out all summer handwashing cars, I’ll consider part of your debt paid”, he explained, looking down at your hand touching him.

“In full?” You eyed him as if he was your goddamn saviour and that unsettled him.

“I said part of it, kiddo. I’ll leave it at $300.”

You batted your eyelashes at him. Did you know that your suggestiveness was wreaking havoc?

“Anything I can do so the $300 reduces to zero?”

“I’ll think about it”, he reluctantly conceded. Joel had a few ideas in mind, but none of them were precisely appropriate. Not for a twenty-one year old to do with a forty-eight year old at least, that was for sure. “Be here tomorrow at 9 AM, sharp. The team works from nine to twelve, Mondays to Fridays.”

You frantically nodded, almost squealing in excitement. The noise you made forced his cock to twitch. He could make you squeal too, only if you would let him.

“I’ll be here! Thanks, Joel.”

Before he could think, you let go of his forearm and hugged him close to your chest. To your round breasts. Those two meaty globes he wanted to palm so badly. He could swear your nipples were stabbing at him. You embraced him so close to your body, his bulge pressed gently against your lower belly, and he wondered if you could feel him.

And then you stepped back. Quickly, too quickly for his liking.

“You’ll need to leave your car here, don’t want you driving back in that junk. I’ll have a look at it tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift back”, he offered. “Lemme close first and I’ll be right back in five minutes.”

“No probs, take your time.” You smiled at him as you went back to your car to grab your things.

Soon you were on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s pickup truck. It was dusking on the horizon, the light scattering through the windshield. Joel put down the visor so he wouldn’t get blinded by the sun.

“So how’s college going?” His attempt at small talk made you smile.

“It’s good, hard but good. The first year was really bad though. I didn’t know anyone there, so had to make friends and everything.” You mentioned, shrugging, while mindlessly playing with your seatbelt.

“I’m sure you had no problems making friends”, Joel said distractedly, checking all the mirrors before turning at the streetlight.

You placed your elbow on the window frame, the back of your head resting on your palm, and you turned to look at him.

“How are you so sure?” You asked, curious to see what his take on you was. The man was like a brick wall.

“You’re so vivacious and talkative. You’re not the shy kind either, always were part of the popular group in high school, weren’t you?” You nodded, but he didn’t see you, all focused on the road ahead. “Bet’cha you have all the boys running after you.”

Well, that was unexpected. For both you and him, because you saw how his jaw clenched. It was almost imperceptible, but you were so aware of his every move, your body so in tune with his, you couldn’t have missed it.

Had he noticed you? Like, actually? Was it possible that Joel fucking Miller, your freaking dad’s best friend, could look at you with other than paternal eyes? Why would he make hat comment otherwise?

Your cunt, still wet from your previous innocent interaction, fluttered. You had no butterflies in your stomach ― they were actually clapping their fragile wings in between your legs. This man was a fucking menace to your senses, and he seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you. Or did he? Time to find out.

You giggled at his question and patted his upper thigh a couple of times, as if he had cracked the best joke you had ever heard. The pad of your fingers almost caressed his groin, that sweet dip where his thigh met his pelvis. The denim under your touch suddenly stretched as Joel flexed his leg, trying to release the tension that had rapidly built up.

You bit your bottom lip as he peered at you askance, your hand still too close to his crotch.

“I actually do, but none of them seem good enough, y’know? I want a man, not a boy”, you ventured, your top teeth sinking further in the soft pillow of your bottom lip.

You saw Joel sucking in his breath ― and the grin in your face grew. He was definitely not immune to you, at least not as much as you had originally thought. He looked so unattainable, always so distant, you had wondered if, in his eyes, you had never grown up.

“Do you now, kiddo?” He asked between gritted teeth, tone throaty.

His brown eyes drifted down for one second, watching the tips of your fingers rubbing the denim of his jeans slightly, and then he locked them back on the road. You heard a low grunt vibrating in his throat, although he tried his best to suppress it.

“Yeah. I’m sick and tired of stupid childish boys. They are just boring now, they lack― well, you know.” You let him brew with your unfinished sentence and removed your hand from his lap.

You could tell Joel finally was able to breathe again as his chest expanded slowly. His reaction to you left a prickling sensation in your pussy ― wet, throbbing, needy. You pressed your knees together, but what you really wanted was for him to reach for you and dunk his thick fingers in your slit.

“Your dad’s there.” He stated, succinct, after clearing his throat.

You looked over your shoulder and through the window to realise that, in fact, you had arrived home. Your father was already waiting for you on the porch, probably because he recognised the noise of Joel’s truck’s exhaust pipe. And then he started walking towards you.

You suppressed a pouting grimace ― you wanted just a few more minutes alone with Joel. A few more moves and, who knew? Maybe you would have him fingering the shit out of you. But thanks to your father, you would never find out.

Your father knocked on the passenger’s window and you rolled it down, smiling. Although what you really wanted to do was smack him for interrupting.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, sweetie. How’s the car?”

“Well…” You looked at Joel ― you had already forgotten what was it that needed replacing.

“The timing belt is going. Bit expensive but your daughter and I have reached an agreement. Will reduce the price for her but she’s gotta come work on the hand-wash business”, he explained, matter-of-factly.

“Sounds ‘bout right. Get your first taste of what the real world is like.” Your dad laughed at his own occurrence, while your mind drifted far, very far.

“I’d love to get a taste.” You answered feigning innocence, turning your face to Joel with a very wide smile painted on your mouth.

His eyes darkened, transfixed on yours. Oh, he knew exactly what you meant. He subtly stirred on his seat and you wanted to giggle so bad, but refrained.

“Hey, Joel. There’s a game on tomorrow night. You wanna come over? Can have something to eat, few beers, will be fun. I need the company, God knows this lady over here just complains while scrolling through her social media”, he pointed towards you with his thumb and you simply rolled your eyes at him.

Watching football with your old man was as boring as it got. However, if Joel Miller was there, he would have your undivided attention. Well, not him, the screen, obviously. Duh.

Your eyes shot to his, expectant. Your cunt was even more anticipative of his answer.

“Yeah, why not?”

Famous last words. That was Joel’s only thought as soon as he entered his best friend’s home. You greeted him at the door, all smiley and welcoming, ignoring the fact that you had been trying to get him hard the. whole. fucking. day.

You had come to work with some very short jeans ― every time you bent down to rub the sponge on the car’s bodywork, the bottom part of your perfectly round ass cheeks would show beneath the denim. Did you even wear any underwear? He thought not.

And then that white crop top was the fucking end of him. You had gotten it all wet when a loaded sponge dripped all over your front while you were talking to him about some trivial thing he could no longer remember. You had tittered and apologised while you scrunched it to get as much water out as possible. And the only thing he had been able to focus on were your pointy nipples, staring right at him, screaming for his caress.

After that, he had been at full mast the whole damn shift.

“Hi, Joel, come in!” You greeted him excitedly, swinging the door open.

He had taken a cold shower before coming over, but maybe what he needed was a fucking ice bath. Because the moment you batted your eyelashes at him, his cock twitched again. Joel had fisted his dick while showering, in the hopes that emptying his nuts before seeing you again would placate his lust for you.

Nope, hadn’t worked. Not one bit. This was probably a bad idea.

“Hey, kiddo.” He greeted you, emphasizing the last word.

He could literally be your fucking father, but that did not seem to deter you. If anything, it spurred you on. Had you no shame? Had he no shame? Because he should have stopped you the moment you started to be suggestive. Instead, he had let you go on, enjoying every single second of it.

Joel walked in and made his way to the kitchen, with you on his heels, where your father was lathering up some ribs with his secret sauce recipe.

“Hey, Joel. Let me get that from you”, he said before cleaning his hands on a kitchen towel and grabbing the beer crate from him.

Feeling they were still cold, his best friend cracked two open and handed him one. Joel lifted the can to his lips and saw you looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Want one?” he asked, since you were of legal drinking age.

You shook your head no, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

“Eww, nah. I hate beer”, you sniggered and his dick spasmed some more.

“‘Course you do”, said your father before he could reply. “You only drink― What’s that crap again?”

“Gin and tonic, dad. It’s literally gin and tonic mixed. It’s not that fancy.” You huffed and puffed, shaking your head.

“This youth mixing everything because they can’t have proper alcohol. What’s next? Mixing beer with lemonade or something like that?”

“Well, that’s actually a thing. It’s called a shandy. Don’t be so old.”

Joel let you two have a go at each other. Observing the exchange, he sat down on one of the stools in front of the island, knees slightly bent.

“What?! You listening to this, Joel?” You father exclaimed with a joking tone. “Is Sarah like this too?”

“Yeah, exactly like this. Thinks beer is disgusting and everything. Thought I raised her better than that, but apparently not.” He jested, sipping from the tin can.

“How’s she doing?” His friend asked.

“She’s fine. She’s turning twenty-four in a couple of weeks. She moved out two months ago, gone to Houston for her new job.” He couldn’t help but be proud of his Sarah. She had accomplished so much. “She’s supposed to be here for her birthday, but we’ll see. She’s always so busy, don’t really know with what.”

“Aren’t they all? I barely see this one over here and she still lives under my roof.”

You folded arms, rolling your eyes again, while you sat down beside Joel on another stool.

“Sorry for having a social life? Like, what do you want me to do? Stay here with you watching football? Got better things to do, dad.”

“So you ain’t staying tonight then?” Your dad asked.

Joel turned to study you, interested in your answer. Could he have some reprieve tonight?

“Of course I’m stayin’. Would be rude not to when we have guests over, right, Joel?” And as the last words abandoned your mouth, you placed your left hand on his right thigh under the counter.

God have mercy.

Joel’s muscles stiffened, one in particular more than the others. His thighs were tense as he gripped the beer can with more strength than what was necessary. He kept his eyes to the front, taming his breathing.

He should have done something, slapping your hand away from his lap for instance. But he didn’t. And you took that as an invitation, because soon enough you were kneading his bulge under the kitchen island. Your palm rubbed harshly against the denim, and he saw you chewing your bottom lip.

Your father busied himself with seasoning the ribs and the French fries, oblivious to what was happening just a few meters away from him. This feels fucking wrong, but so fucking good, Joel thought to himself, your hand frisking his groin brazenly.

His cock was thudding with desire under his clothing, begging to be freed from its prison. You sensed his desperation, because you quickly tried to clasp your hand around it. Feeling your frustration at the inability of fisting him properly, Joel parted his legs to give you better access. If that was not an open invitation, nothing was.

I’m already going to hell. Joel had to stop himself of sucking his breath in when you started to unzip his jeans. His eyes slightly widened, but that was his only tell.

“So who do you reckon is going to win tonight?” Your father asked as your fingers dipped underneath his boxers.

Your warm skin against his beating cock dulled his senses. Then you took his dick out of his boxers and attempted to circle his girth while working him. Joel had to drink from his beer to shut himself up.

“Not sure, but I’d like for the Longhorns to win”, he spat the words out as best he could given the circumstances.

“Yeah, would be nice seeing our hometown win something this season”, your father continued with the small talk.

Joel’s thighs flexed when you started pumping him decisively. Fuck. He briefly looked down at his erection. It felt too damn good, your tiny fingers gripping him hard as you slowly moved your hand up and down on his lap. The tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you expertly rubbed it on his foreskin with your thumb.

As your father turned around to put everything in the oven, Joel took the chance to look at you. With your gaze averted, you pretended there was something interesting in the wall in front of you, while your right hand was buried underneath your slutty denim shorts. Joel could swear he could hear the squelching sounds your pussy was making while you played with yourself.

“Right, I think this is it. Gotta wait for an hour until everything’s properly cooked. Wanna move to the family room in the meantime?” He happily chattered as he walked around the kitchen island.

You reacted quickly and let go of his shaft. With his lap right under the kitchen counter, Joel hoped to hell his friend would not see anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah”, he said with a coarse voice. “Need to go to the bathroom first.”

Your father just nodded as he sauntered towards the living room and Joel almost let go a sigh of relief. You simply chortled as you put your left thumb in your mouth, making it obvious that you were tasting his precum.

Joel’s cock jerked on his lap as he whispered a blasphemy. Quickly he tucked away his painful dick back in his boxers and zipped his jeans as he stood up. Then he retreated to the bathroom, needing a fucking moment to find his composure again.

Until he heard you.

“Gonna go get my phone charger, be back in a jiffy!”

Before Joel could close the door behind him, you slipped your hand in the door gap to stop him from shutting it. You caught him off guard, because he stepped back, brows knitting when he saw you under the door frame.

“What’cha doing?”, he questioned you.

You could feel the rigidity radiating from him. You entered the small bathroom and silently closed the door behind you, both of your hands holding onto the doorknob on your back.

“I came to finish what I started.”

You didn’t give him time to think ― if you did, you knew he would put an end to this. You were too turned on, your cunt beating every time your heart did. Your pussy lips were all wet and puffy ― you could feel your slick trapped between your folds, almost seeping into your panties. You had unleashed the beast and wanted it all for yourself.

So you threw yourself into Joel’s chest, your teeth softly scratching his Adam’s apple as one of your hands found its way back to his cock. He tilted his chin up and groaned at your touch. His pounding dick felt warm and velvety against your palm, so hard from working him under the kitchen counter a minute before.

Once he opened his eyes again, he looked down at you as you gripped his erection with both hands. Slowly you jerked him off, feeling powerful with him on the palm of your hands. Every time you pumped him, your clit would twitch in response. He had not touched you yet and your pussy was already palpitating for him. You could not wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

 “We shouldn’t, your father is right there―”

You could not care less. And to make it evident, you sunk to your knees in front of him, still holding his cock, now at eye level.

Your tongue darted out and you leaned his dick forward until the tip rested flat against your tongue, your hands still working his veiny shaft.

“You were saying?” You asked before briefly pecking his glans.

“Fuck”, was the only thing he managed to mumble.

That was your cue to give free rein to your lust. You nudged his column with the tip of your nose as your mouth drifted down to kiss his balls. Then your tongue slid out in its full extension, and you flattened it against the underside of his cock, slowly lapping at it until you reached the top and sealed your lips around his mushroom head.

Glancing up at him, you saw pleasure softening his features as you took him in further and further down, until his cock reached the natural resistance at the end of your throat. When his tip bottomed out in your mouth, Joel’s eyes found yours. His jaw visibly clenched at the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cock burrowed in between your lips, tears gathering on your bottom eyelids because of how his dick was outstretching you.

You moaned as Joel pulled his hips back, his shaft leaving your wet cavity, now full of precum and saliva. You swallowed to make room as you avidly tipped your head towards him, your lips hunting down his dick again. Slurping so you wouldn’t drown in fluids, you ate his cock like if it was the last edible thing on earth.

At that moment, something shifted in the air. As if Joel, finally, let go of his prejudices and accepted what you were giving him: your mouth to use as he pleased. His fingers hovered over your temples and then they clamped down on your skull as he held you in place.

“Stay still”, he commanded, and you nodded, his cock sitting snugly in your mouth.

His hips moved back and then forward, rocking his dick in and out of your lips. First slow, then picking up a pace. You stayed put throughout while he fucked your mouth mercilessly, palms against your knees like the good girl you were. Then his glans breached your uvula and you inevitably gagged at the intrusion.

He forced you to remain still as he tried to go further down, but there was nowhere for him to go. Your eyes welled up while you fought back the need to cough, almost unable to breathe.

Joel snapped his hips back and your mouth became free. You started panting while trying to catch a breath. Joel cupped your chin up so you would look at him. His sly grin told you he was enjoying himself a bit too much.

“Can tell you’ve not eaten many cocks, have you? Despite pretending to be this slutty brat in front of everyone, hm?” He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“Well, I―” He didn’t let you finish the sentence because as soon as you opened your mouth, he slotted his dick back in between your plump lips.

“I actually don’t wanna hear it.”

Inevitably your cunt gushed at his roughness. He was right though ― you had only given head to two guys before and their cocks did not measure up to his. Your jaw had actually started to hurt now due to the effort you were making to house his dick in your mouth.

Joel quickly resumed his pounding, fucking your mouth relentlessly ― his hips swaying back and forth in front of you.

“Sweetie! Can you bring my charger too please?” Your father’s question forced both of you to snap out of the sexual haziness you both were feeling.

You two froze in place, Joel’s cock still in your mouth.

“Or I can come get it.” Then you heard his booted steps coming up the corridor.

In a panic, Joel stumbled back and you sprang to your feet, eyes widened with fear.

“No! Don’t worry! I’m coming!” You shouted back, hoping that your voice sounded far away enough to him.

The steps stopped and you both listened to him walking back to the living room. “Thank you, sweetie!”

You turned to look at Joel, who had grabbed a bunch of toilet roll to clean off the mess on his still throbbing cock.

“Joel, I’m sorry, b―”

“Just go before he changes his mind and comes looking for you”, his voice was strained with effort. His erection had to be painful by now without any relief.

But he was right. You couldn’t risk it. Neither of you could. So with apologetic eyes, you slithered out the bathroom door and ran to your room to snatch a couple of phone chargers.

Fucking torture that was.

Joel had never been in a worse position than that. Sat on the couch with you, your father on the recliner just a couple of meters away ― and his dick still pulsating, his balls full of unspent cum. His cock would writhe in his boxers, asking for a relief that never came. He was in excruciating pain and was not able to concentrate at all. All the small talk your father did went over his head, didn’t pay attention to the TV’s commentary either.

From time to time, you would graze his thigh lightly ― and on one occasion you slid your naughty hand towards his groin. Luckily the living room was dark, the TV being the only source of light, so your father didn’t pay much attention to your provocations. You quietly kneaded his bulge, curling your fingers around his erection underneath, and it got to a point where Joel had to force your hand away, because he was too close to coming.

So, when he waved you both goodbye and got into his truck, he could literally not wait to get home. Under the dim light of the lampposts that filtered through the windows into the truck’s cabin, Joel freed his aching dick and fisted it from the base. With his head tilted back against the headrest, he furiously jerked off ― fast and with no measure, to the point it was almost hurting. Tension built up from his nuts upwards and when Joel finally got relief, he groaned audibly as his cum spurted out in white, thick streaks.

With a heavy sigh and some laboured breathing, he opened his eyes, looking for some tissues to clean the mess on his lap. As he was putting his cock back in his boxers, something caught his attention.

The darkness camouflaged you well, but he spotted you on the window of your room, watching him eagerly with half-lidded eyes and chewing your bottom lip. Then your head leaned forward, your chin almost touching your chest, and Joel suddenly understood what was happening. You had been touching yourself while observing him do the same thing, until you orgasmed too.

Your eyes locked on each other’s through the blackness, something dark and perverted floating in the atmosphere. The whole thing felt wrong. The right kind of wrong.

The next week had been a continuous dance between the two of you. You too suggestive, him too evasive. After you had seen him wanking in his car, you had thought you had him under your spell. He had looked like a damn teenager chasing his release, unable to contain it much longer.

But you couldn’t blame him ― you had had him on edge for almost five hours. First touching him under the counter, then sucking his dick in the bathroom, and finally kneading him on the couch with your dad only two meters away.

It all had affected you too, because as soon as you had scurried away to your room and had looked out the window, you fingered yourself with your eyes locked on him. You came so hard, that you had to steady yourself on the windowsill, trembling knees and all. And once the orgasm softened its grip on you, you had realised he had been watching you as you rode the last wave of your climax.

So yes, for a week you tried to seduce him again, because you needed to know how it all ended. Having him burrowed down to your guts was a necessity now. However, it got to a point where you almost gave up ― it was draining having to follow him around like a bitch in heat. You still had one ace up your sleeve though. One that you hoped to play this afternoon. Because if you didn’t fuck him today, you were going to lose your shit.

You focused on your task, which was rubbing the soaked sponge on the bodywork of the car. Two other people were doing the same thing on the back, while you were slightly bent over the hood trying to reach the middle. Your breasts brushed against the metalwork, your white tank top completely wet with soapy water, almost transparent now. The coldness was refreshing in the asphyxiating Texan heat and your nipples especially welcomed it, wrinkling tightly and showing through the fabric.

When you straightened, you caught a glimpse of Joel eyeing you intently. But you pretended you didn’t ― maybe you needed to play difficult, show him no interest. Reverse psychology. So for the rest of your shift you just ignored him, fully conscious of how his sight followed you at all times. Let him brew.

Joel didn’t say a word though, didn’t come close to you either. But you heard him wicker while you were openly teasing one of your teammates. Were you trying to make him jealous? Absolutely. So, you giggled and played with your hair at the tasteless joke your colleague told you. It wasn’t funny, but you wanted Joel to listen to your flirting.

Midday came around and the other two people working on the hand wash business said their goodbyes. Joel employed a father and son in the shop too, who left the garage to go home for lunch. And then it was only you and Joel left. Just as you had planned.

“Joel? Can you help me with this, please?” You politely asked him after lifting a bucket full of water up to your chest.

You took a couple of steps forward and the water spilt all over, soaking your shirt completely.

“Shit”, you heard him say under his breath, jogging towards you.

He slipped his arms underneath the bucket to release you from its weight and then placed it back down between both of you.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna hurt your back with such terrible manual handling.” He reprimanded you, tutting.

“Something hurts and it’s not my back, Joel.” You muttered, your fingers wrapping around his wrist to haul him closer to you.

You were done with subtlety. You guided his hand to your pussy and pressed it gently.

“Hurts right here.” The low, needy mumble poured from your lips like honey.

Joel’s eyes squinted just a tad, and his nostrils flared. You saw the inner battle in his chocolate eyes, and you fucking hoped he lost.

Soon you had the answer you had been looking for. The palm of his hand flattened against your crotch, holding you possessively, and pulled you against his broad chest. You couldn’t help but moan when your breasts pressed against him, your taut nipples aching with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking nasty, kiddo. Been watching you all week, trying to get me hard all over again, haven’t you?” You shyly nodded, biting down your bottom lip as you glanced up at him, his palm rubbing your cunt with determination. “Of course you have, you’re so cock drunk. You loved sucking me, didn’t you?”

You shook your head yes, holding onto the waistband of his jeans. You whimpered when his thumb burrowed in your pants, trying to find your slit over all that clothing unsuccessfully.

“Joel, please.” You begged for mercy, for relief, for something ― anything he could give you, you would take.

“You want me to fuck you, kiddo?” His free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up, while his thumb kept nudging your damp slit. His mouth hovered over yours as you simply nodded again. “Hm? You want me to destroy your pussy?”

“Yes, yes, YES.” You were already gushing at his dirty talk.

With no more prodding, Joel bowed down and sunk his tongue in your mouth, darting in with the ferocity only a man on the edge could feel. He swept your entire cavity in an open-mouth kiss that left your knees shaking and your pussy throbbing. You moaned into his breath and your tongue lapped at his, the span on his fingers gently covering your neck and squeezing lightly.

Joel’s hand between your legs moved to your ass, pressing you into him. His swollen lump poked at your lower belly intimately and you couldn’t resist the urge to dip your hand in his boxers. He audibly groaned as you attempted to circle his whole girth and failed. Just like a week before, you would need both of your hands around his shaft to properly grip him. You pumped him once, very slow, your hand gliding down till it found his balls.

Joel grunted in the middle of the sloppy kiss and pushed you to go backwards until your body met the back of his pickup truck, which was parked at the end of the driveway. Out of prying eyes, you hoped. Not that you cared that much at this precise moment, anyway.

His beard scratched the skin on your cheek as his lips drifted down to your neck. You looked up to the clear sky before you closed your eyes, giving his pulsing cock a light squeeze that snatched a moan out of him.

Without warning, Joel broke the messy kiss and knelt before you, his hands tugging at the waistband of your shorts with no difficulty. Soon your pants were around your ankles, your panties quickly following, leaving you naked from the waist down. Joel helped you take them off but left your tennis on.

Still on his knees, he peeked up with a devilish smile, then leaned forward and lapped at your mound. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as your fingers raked his salt and pepper curls. The tip of his tongue brushed the point where your slit started and then licked upwards, his tongue skidding through your skin until it reached your belly button.

You pursed your lips, wanting him to go down, not up. In fact, you pushed him down ever so slightly and the cold of his breath against your wet skin when he laughed made you look down, frustrated.

He kissed the beginning of your slit again and when you thought he was going in, he stopped. You whimpered, thwarted, as he got back up to his feet and towered above you.

“You want me to touch you where it hurts, hm?” He questioned with his lips ghosting yours. “Your pussy? That’s where?”

Not waiting for your reply, his index dunked in your pearly furrow and traced it in its entirety, from your quivering hole to your thumping clit. And then he did it again, for good measure.

“You’re soaking, kiddo. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” To emphasize his words, Joel suddenly dived his finger in your opening, a squelching sound making it obvious that you were, in fact, dripping. “You hear that?” He forced his finger out and then back in, the wet, sucking noise even louder this time.

You frantically nodded as he fingered you, his thumb caressing your begging clit as he did. You mewled into his chest, eyes shut, trying to calm the fluttering of your inner walls around his lonely finger. Lonely not for long, because Joel then introduced a second. You held onto his sides, his tee shirt scrunching in your fists, the orgasm building up.

“C’mon, squeeze your cunt for me. Show me how tight you are”, he whispered in your ear as his relentless fingering picked up a faster pace between your legs.

You happily obliged and squashed your walls together around his fingers as he dextrously stroked your g-spot. All of a sudden, a firing sensation built in your clit without warning and the haziness of pleasure took over your senses abruptly. You came hard, very hard, wailing his name as he kept on fingering you until the last wave of your climax washed over you.

What the actual fuck? You thought to yourself, amazed. You rested your forehead against his chest, catching a breath and feeling your arousal wetting your inner thighs.

Still recovering from your unexpected orgasm, Joel picked you up and settled you down on the edge of his truck’s cargo bed. Your feet dangled in front of you, and you parted your legs to make room for him while you wrapped his neck with your arms and licked into his mouth.

“Now I’m gonna eat you raw, kiddo. Give you some of your own medicine.” His hoarse tone gave you goosebumps. Palming both of your breasts over your wet tank top, he pushed you down until your back met the floor of the cargo bed, your legs hanging freely from your knees down. “Is that what you want? This old man feasting on your pussy, on her? ‘S she gonna like it?”

“Joel, please, just― Yes, eat my pussy. Eat her, eat me, please.” You begged with a small voice while you pinched your nipples over your shirt, eyes closed.

And finally, he did. With his hands on your knees to keep them apart, Joel lapped at your cunt in one sweet sweep. Your body trembled with elation, shivers firing down your spine. His tongue caressed all the crevices in your shiny slit, lips puffy and reddened. His thumb found your clit as the tip of his tongue played with your leaking hole, going in and out a few times ― fucking you with his tongue.

You were not able to take it for much longer ― with Joel’s tongue lodged in your creamy fold and your fingers playing with your nipples, you were done for. Soon you came undone, tension growing in your lower belly and molten lava finding its way out. You howled his name, your knees pressing against his head, holding him in place as you came in his mouth. Joel sipped from your fountain, leaving not even one drop behind, your pussy licked clean of your own discharge.

His turn to find relief.

Even though Joel had been fisting himself while eating you raw, the roughness of his palm could not compare to your warmth. He just knew your pussy would hug his cock just right. And he was dying to find out.

Pushing his work jeans and boxers down to his ankles, he kicked his feet until they came off. Soon his security shoes and socks were kicked to the side too. With renewed energy, Joel jumped on to the cargo bed. You propped your torso up with the help of your elbows to study his erection, wetting your lips unknowingly.

Your eyes lingered on his cock for too damn long and it twitched on his hand.

“Spread your legs, kiddo.”

And so you did without complaints. You stretched your legs, Joel having a perfect view of your glistening pussy. You were so horny, he could literally see your cunt palpitating from this angle. Knelt between your legs, he leaned forward until the tip of his dick brushed against your slit, so damp again it just slid off. Jerking himself off, he nudged your soaked entrance with his mushroom head and your mouth opened, shaping a perfect O.

“So needy, isn’t she? Aren’t you? Playing difficult to catch today, trying to make me jealous with that stupid boy, but in reality, you’re just a desperate brat wanting to get her pussy drilled by her dad’s best friend.” His dirty talk did not stop while he pushed in, your flesh parting to house him until he bottomed out.

Joel moaned, sweat gathering on his brow, his hands on either side of your head. He stood still for a long minute while your cunt fluttered around him, sheathing his whole length. He could feel your inner muscles adjusting to him.

You were so cockstruck you didn’t even reply.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, so take it well, kiddo.” He warned before tilting his hips back and abruptly back in.

You wailed loudly at the first thrust, and Joel had to muffle your screams by covering your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm, but he didn’t let go. He did not want you to alert the neighbours around the garage. His hips bucked against yours and then, after a few teasing shoves, Joel started jackhammering you fast and viciously hard.

You draped your legs around his waist, the heels of your white tennis pushing on his ass cheeks, encouraging to go deeper and quicker. And so he did, uncovering your mouth to replace it with his.

Joel fucked you mercilessly, filthily. He drove his dick in and out of you in quick succession, drilling your tacky pussy. And he knew you were loving every single second of it. Your soft sobs only spurred him on and when your moist pussy clutched around his drumming cock announcing your orgasm, he couldn’t restraint himself for much longer.

He stoically let you come while riding your own climax. His balls tightened and his belly muscles strained, signalling his own relief.

“Where?”, was the only word that he managed to whisper.

Your eyes were still closed, a languid smile lingering on your lips, all blissful and satisfied while he was still fucking suffering.

“In my mouth.” Your reply was almost his undoing.

Joel snapped his hips back, his hard, throbbing cock slipping out. He dragged his body across yours until his thick, hairy thighs were on each side of your head and his nuts were resting on your chin, his ass hanging over your breasts.

“Open”, he husked, raspy and throaty.

Still with your eyes closed, you parted your lips, and Joel shoved his beating cock down your throat unceremoniously. He leaned forward over you ― his hands holding his weight off you, flat against the cargo bed’s floor. And then Joel started fucking your mouth mindlessly, as if it was your cunt ― his testicles slapping against your chin and your eyes welling up.

He could feel your head almost rocking up and down below him with the strength of his thrusts. You only stopped swaying underneath him when your hands grabbed his buttocks, your fingers sinking in his flesh.

With a guttural growl, Joel came undone and his thick cum filled your mouth. You stayed still while the last white ropes spurted out the slit on his tip, finally reaching the bliss he had been chasing for a week.

Joel lifted his hips off your face and his dick came out of your mouth with a pop.

“Eat it, kiddo.” He requested of you, towering above you.

From this angle, flat on your back and with Joel almost sat on your face, you saw first his balls and then his soft cock hovering over your eyes. What had just happened was filthy, and you loved it, even though you were sure that your throat would hurt tomorrow.

“It’s $300 if I swallow”, you kidded out of nowhere, almost gargling with his cum as your mouth was full of it.

Joel chuckled as he came off you, sitting down on your left.

“Deal”, he agreed.

And so you gulped his cum down, letting it slip down your throat until it landed in your belly. You smiled at him before opening your mouth to show him it was empty.

Joel’s chest rumbled with satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

[wayward-dreamer]

Morning

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x F!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Joel wakes you up in the most perfect way.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, unspecified age gap (I imagine reader to be in her 30s cause I'm in my 30s, so do with what you will lol. Joel is whatever age he'll be in that flashback, so maybe 57), smut: dirty talk, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up people), morning sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie. Reader described with female anatomy, no use of y/n.

A/N: This was born from my uncontrollable need for this man, and he just looked too good in that light in the flashback. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, happy reading! :) Unbeta'd.

Main Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

The amber rays filtered in through the sheer curtains, the fabric billowing lightly from the open window that let in the cool morning breeze. The crisp air would later give way to a sweltering heat, but the warmth of the sun and the freshness of the breeze caressed the exposed skin of your arms as you slept soundly. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt another warmth against your naked back, one that you welcomed more than the day about to begin. His heavy arm wrapped protectively over your waist, his lips resting against the top of your spine, teasing you even in his slumber. You began to stir slowly, not quite ready to accept the routine of your life and hoping for a few extra minutes of this peaceful cocoon you had made for yourselves.

It seemed he had understood what you needed, as he always did, when his lips pressed softly to the nape of your neck and his muscular arm tightened around you. You hummed as you shifted back against him, biting your lip as his mouth trailed over your shoulder, back up the column of your throat to your jaw. His hand slid up the sheets covering your body and cupped your chin, tilting you back as he kissed you awake, soft but sensual, with the full intention of taking things further. His tongue slipped into your lips and met yours, a soft groan escaping him as the intensity began to rise between you, him pulling away with a heavy sigh already. With heavy eyelids, you smiled up at him as you turned slightly to face him, taking in the way his brown eyes looked so soft in the morning glow.

You opened your mouth to speak the standard morning greeting, but with another press of his lips to yours he silenced you. Your hand slid over his arm and squeezed at his bicep, which only encouraged him to deepen the embrace, your lips moving against each other’s a little rougher, the urgency to feel more now undeniable. He didn’t need to hear you wish a good morning, because the first word out of your mouth, the breathless exhale of his name as he nipped at the skin of your jaw was a much better way to start the day. It drove him to the deepest depths of insanity whenever you spoke his name, especially when it came at the break of dawn.

His mouth continued his descent down the length of your body, leaving love bites along your collarbone, your chest, lightly nipping at the pebbled buds of your breasts, a shiver running down your spine from his attention on you but also the sheet being dragged off you and exposing you to chill in the room. A low moan left you as he kissed over the goosebumps now covering the expanse of your flesh, but as he reached the softness of your stomach and his calloused hands caressed your thighs, he set every one of your senses ablaze with his fiery touch. Your eyes met as he glanced up at you, a devilish smirk pulling at his luscious lips as he spread your legs slowly, his messy bed head making him far too cute in comparison. His beard scratched over the sensitive skin of your pelvis, and with a soft hum of approval from you he had all the permission he ever needed to bury his tongue in the tight heat at the apex of your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered closed as a moan escaped you feeling the way his talented muscle licked over your folds, his rough hands gripping your hips tight. You draped the crook of your elbow over your mouth, your sounds of pleasure muffled under your arm as he repeated the action a few times, moving up to the bundle of nerves and sealing his lips around it. The last thing you needed was the teenager in the next room to hear you, though you knew with how often she had goaded Joel that you had never been as careful as you had hoped. 

“Joel, fuck,” you whimpered, your other hand finding its way into his messy curls.

You tugged at the strands of his hair harshly, the groan that left him vibrating through you as it spurred him on. His ministrations sped up, his tongue moving through your folds and up to your clit in tight, hard strokes which sent shockwaves through your whole body. You bit down on the flesh of your forearm, a squeal coming out as he moved in deeper, licking at your wet canal. Grabbing your calves, he threw over his shoulders as he devoured you like a man starved, his need for you insatiable with every day that passed. If it was one thing he loved, it was this. Being between your supple thighs, whether it was with his skillful mouth or impressive girth, and bringing you over the edge into complete euphoria.

Joel could tell you were close, with the way your legs quivered and how you struggled not to squeeze and suffocate him between them, which he wouldn’t mind in the least as a form of his demise. He delved deeper into you, a low grunt escaping him as he felt your wetness coating his lips and tongue, slowly slipping down his chin as he continued to bring you to your blissful release.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped, lifting your head to gaze down at him. “Joel, I’m-”

He pulled away briefly, breathing heavily as he kissed your inner thigh. “I know, darlin’. Taste so fucking good, want you cum on tongue.”

As you felt his lips against you once more, you tossed your head to the side on the pillow and pressed your mouth further into your arm to smother the noises coming from you because of him. Between the way he slid his tongue over your folds and how it circled over the swollen nub, it wasn’t long before the dam broke and you gripped his curls tighter, a muffled shriek into your flesh just as he grunted, feeling your arousal gush between his ravenous lips. You panted heavily as your arm slid off and fell onto the mattress with a thud, tiny whimpers leaving you as he lapped at everything you had to give him.

He pressed a kiss to your sex before trailing a path upwards, lingering over your stomach and your breasts before his face hovered above yours, the light in the room bathing him in an ethereal glow. You stared up at him, in complete awe of beauty in front of you, cupping his jaw in your hands and pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was tender at first, both of you still in the process of waking up, but it slowly gained in intensity. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your mouths moved roughly over each other, a guttural moan falling from you as his lips kissed your chin, his teeth scraping over your skin.

“Shh,” he whispered, smirking. “We don’t need this bein’ over before it starts, baby.”

“Joel,” you whined, your arms sliding down the bare muscles of his arms, gripping him firmly as you stared up at him. “I need…”

“What do you need, darlin’?” he asked, a wicked glint in his brown eyes. He knew exactly what you needed but he took pleasure in making you say it.

“I need you,” you replied, your voice wavering in desperation.

He raised his eyebrows as he gazed down at you, amused by your urgency. “Need me where?”

Just as the words left his mouth, he parted your legs as he took his hard length in his hand, slowly pumping his fist back and forth. It didn’t take much for him to become aroused, and going down on you was the easiest way of making that happen. The bulbous head of his cock teased over your entrance, the action imitating the way his tongue had done the same just minutes before.

“I need you inside me,” you finally hissed, grabbing onto his shoulders with a deathly grip.

A soft chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, but without saying anything else, he slid deep into your pussy. A shaky gasp escaped you as you felt your walls stretch around his girth, sheathing him completely as he buried all the way to the base of his cock. He dropped down to his forearms, his lips hovering over yours as he pulled out slightly, before thrusting back in. He smirked as small huffs against his lips told me you were adjusting to his size, still needing a few minutes after so long together. With a slight nod from you, he began to set a moderate pace, his hips undulating against yours as his cock slid back and forth inside you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his forehead against yours. “Feels so fucking good, baby. So tight around me, taking my dick so perfectly, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah… oh, fuck, yes,” you moaned, softly as you pulled him closer by his shoulders. “Joel, r-right there-”

He leaned in and kissed you passionately, the rhythm intensifying as he once again found that spot inside you that drove you insane, the one that only he had ever been able to locate and cause you to lose all control. He picked up pace as he pounded into you, making you mewl into his mouth as his cock drove harder and faster into you. His mouth was locked onto yours in a rough exchange, both of you breathing deeply through your noses as he didn’t dare to rip his lips away from yours. You both knew that neither one of you would be able to stay quiet at that point.

It soon became too difficult to breathe that way, causing you to pull back and gaze up at him, short but heavy breaths leaving you with each thrust of his hips against yours. The sun was shining over him, his sweat soaked muscles glistening and making him look even more gorgeous than he already was. It was moments like this when you couldn’t believe that you were the luckiest woman in Jackson to be with him. (But if you asked him, he’d say he was the lucky one for you even giving him the time of day).

“J-Joel,” you stuttered, pulling him closer. “More, p-please. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” he muttered over your lips.

“Fuck me harder, Joel,” you requested, a tiny growl coming from you as you held him tighter.

“Harder, huh? Want me to ruin you, ‘s that it?” he asked, his lips pulling up into a smirk. “Wanna be fucked so hard you feel me for days?”

“Yeah,” you whimpered, pulling him down so that his chest was pressed hard against yours.

A knowing look passed between you as his hand came up over your mouth once more. The slap of skin and the squelch of your wetness grew in volume as he slammed into you repeatedly, a string of moans being punched from lungs with each thrust, the sound reverberating against his palm. You could feel him so deep inside, pressing harder against your cervix with each drag of his cock within you. The force of his hips smacking into you caused the headboard to knock against the wall, but it didn’t concern you considering it wasn’t one that you shared with the next room. It continued to bang into the dark green wall the harder and faster he pounded into you, and the familiar feeling bloomed in your core again. Joel grunted as he stared deep into your eyes, his own release imminent as he felt your walls clenching tighter around him.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re close,” he whispered, his breath fanning against his hand as he kept it cupped over your mouth. “I can feel it, see it in your eyes. You’re gonna cum so hard for me…”

Your only response was a squeal against the flesh of his palm.

“Gonna cum so deep inside you,” he groaned. “Gonna fill you up, fuck you so full of me and you’re gonna take every last drop aren’t ya, baby?”

Your eyes widened as you nodded frantically, causing him to chuckle lightly.

“Yeah, that’s what you want, ain’t it? My cum so deep inside it’s gonna have no choice but to take…”

“Joel,” you cried out, muffled by his fingers. “P-Please-”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he muttered, leaning in closer to your ear and nipping the lobe. “Cum for me, baby, wanna feel it.”

With his voice laced with morning roughness and the way he was slamming into you, your arms wrapped around him tighter as he brought you closer to your second orgasm. The muscles in your core locked up as your walls tightened around him, and before you knew it, his name came out in a long, rasping moan against his hand just as your arousal covered his shaft. His neck strained back, the vein popping against his skin as he grunted, the sound rumbling against his chest as he felt his cock pulse inside you, his release making his whole body shudder as spurts of his seed coated your walls.

Joel slumped down over you, his hand falling away from your lips as you both breathed heavily, coming down from the euphoric high. You shivered as the chill in the air cooled the sweat over your body, a soft hum leaving you as he slid his arms under you and took you his arms before he rolled onto his side. You leaned in and kissed him, slowly and passionately as your hand found its way into his soft hair, combing through it as you pushed yourself closer to him. He pulled away from the kiss to softly peck your lips, your nose and your forehead before he gazed into your eyes.

“Mornin’,” he rasped.

You giggled, biting your lip. “Morning. That was one hell of a way to wake up.”

“Guess I just wanted to carry on from last night,” he stated, smirking at you.

He took your hand in his, the sunlight warm against your skin as your fingers intertwined. Your breasts pressed up against as you remained wrapped around each other for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow. It wouldn’t be long before he had to leave this little slice of heaven and get back to the reality of the world, but at least today was going to be one of the good days. He knew it already.

“Time to wake up sweet 16 across the hall,” you laughed.

“Well, I gotta shower so she’s got ten more minutes,” he said, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked back at you, that playful glint returning to his eyes. “Any chance you’ll join me?”

“Sure, but no funny business,” you warned, slowly pulling away from him and sitting up. “We can’t delay and ruin her surprise.”

“I know, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he promised.

Joel kept to his word and got cleaned up right next to you in the shower, trying really hard not to be enticed by your beautiful, wet body. A few minutes later, he was dressed before you in a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans, his boots on as he clasped his watch to his wrist. You closed the buttons of your green plaid shirt, stolen from him technically but he liked it on you more anyway, just as he came up and kissed your cheek.

“Meet you downstairs?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Sure,” he replied, kissing your lips once more.

He walked away and opened the door of your bedroom, making his way down the bright, sunlit hallway as his heavy boots echoed on the floorboards. You heard the slow creak of Ellie’s bedroom door, a smile beamed across your lips at the peaceful, domestic feeling of it all. Something you thought you’d never have, but were grateful you found with Joel and Ellie. Your own little family, that may be expanding if that morning, or any of the other recent times, were any indication. You heard his familiar, soft greeting to her before you finished getting ready, taking the stairs down to the kitchen to wait for them both.

“Hey, kiddo.”

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[andy-15-07]

Hii can i request a joel fic where reader is jealous? like her and joel are married and there's this new neighbor that likes joel and tries to flirt with him and he doesn't notice and is just being nice. Pre outbreak! Thank you!! (:

Off the Market

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1280 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You’d always thought your street was quiet,safe. A place where barbecues meant friendly hellos and where the loudest drama was whether the mail got wet in the rain. But the moment she moved in across the street,blonde, perky, with legs for days and a voice like honey,all of that peace disappeared.

Especially when you caught her staring at your husband.

Joel, your sweet, oblivious, ridiculously handsome husband.

You watched from the kitchen window as he helped the new neighbor carry a box up her porch. His gray t-shirt clung to his back in the heat, and he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, completely unaware of how her eyes lingered on him like she wanted to lick the salt off his skin.

You muttered under your breath. “Real subtle, sweetheart.”

She laughed at something he said,full-on hair flip and hand-on-his-arm laugh. Joel just scratched the back of his neck, looking polite and,unfortunately,adorably clueless.

The door opened, and Sarah bounded into the kitchen. “Dad’s still helping the new lady?”

You nodded, teeth clenched. “Mhm. Real helpful lately.”

Sarah tilted her head, then grinned knowingly. “You’re jealous.”

“Excuse me?”

She opened the fridge. “You always do that tight-smile thing when you’re jealous. It’s kinda cute.”

“I’m not jealous,” you scoffed, turning away from the window. “I just think it’s… interesting that she can lift three bags of groceries but somehow needs help carrying a box of throw pillows.”

Sarah snorted, pulling out a juice box. “Right. You want me to sabotage her Wi-Fi or something?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m just saying. I got skills.”

You let out a surprised laugh, just as the front door opened and Joel stepped in, sweaty and smiling. “Man, that girl brought her whole damn house with her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I bet.”

He gave you a confused look, stepping forward to kiss your cheek. “You good?”

“Peachy,” you said, brushing past him. “Gotta go fold the laundry.”

That night, you lay in bed, back to Joel, arms crossed tightly.

He shifted behind you. “Alright, what’d I do?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what all women say right before I find out I did something.”

You sighed. “I just think it’s funny how helpful you’ve been lately.”

He propped himself up on one elbow. “This is about the new neighbor?”

“No,” you said flatly. “It’s about the way she touches your arm like it’s a handle. Or how she giggles like she’s in a damn rom-com every time you open your mouth.”

Joel blinked. “What?”

You turned to face him, eyes narrowed. “Joel. She’s flirting with you.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “No she ain’t.”

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “You’re hopeless.”

He blinked again. “Wait,you’re jealous?”

You pushed the covers off. “I’m not jealous, I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”

Joel caught your wrist before you could storm off, pulling you gently back onto the bed. “Sweetheart. Listen to me.”

You grumbled, but stayed.

He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb against your jaw. “You think I don’t see you? Every day? You’re my wife. I love you. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you, and I ain’t lookin’ anywhere else.”

You swallowed hard. “But she’s all… pretty and shiny and new.”

Joel chuckled, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You think I want shiny and new when I got soft and mine?”

Your heart stuttered. “Joel…”

He kissed you slowly, sweetly. “No one’s ever touched my heart like you do. That neighbor could dance naked in the driveway and I’d ask her if she needed a towel.”

You burst out laughing, even as heat crept up your cheeks. “You’re serious.”

He nodded. “I’m real serious, darlin’. You’re it for me.”

You stared at him, vulnerable. “You really didn’t notice?”

He gave a little shrug. “I noticed she was kinda chatty. Thought she was just nervous, bein’ new to the street. Didn’t really care, ‘cause I was thinkin’ about you and that lasagna you made.”

You softened. “That was your favorite.”

“Exactly.” He leaned forward and kissed your nose. “You really thought I’d look at anyone else when I get to wake up next to you?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile curling your lips. “You’re good at this, Miller.”

He grinned. “Wanna know what I’m also good at?”

You arched a brow. “Do I?”

He tugged you on top of him, hands finding your hips. “Let me prove it.”

His hands slide beneath your shirt,his shirt,and his rough palms are warm against your bare skin. You straddle his waist, your thighs squeezing around his hips, and Joel lets out a low groan from the back of his throat.

“You’re serious about proving it?” you murmur against his lips.

Joel’s voice is a rumble. “I’ve been dyin’ to get my hands on you all day.”

Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging gently. “Guess you were too busy bein’ helpful.”

He smirks. “Wasn’t helpin’ her the way I help you.”

You grind your hips down slowly, and Joel’s breath hitches.

“Oh, you mean like this kind of help?” you tease, rolling your hips again, slower this time.

His grip tightens at your waist, and his head drops back with a growl. “Jesus, woman…”

You dip your head and drag your lips along his neck, whispering against his pulse, “She can’t do this to you, can she?”

“No, baby,” he rasps, eyes dark with lust. “Only you. Always you.”

You kiss him deeply, then lift up just enough to reach down and tug your panties to the side, and Joel’s eyes follow your every move like a starving man.

“Tell me who you belong to,” you murmur, positioning yourself over him.

His hands tremble on your hips. “You, darlin’. I’m yours. Always been.”

You sink down onto him, and he lets out a swear so low and filthy it burns straight through you.

Your bodies move together in that slow, grinding rhythm that makes time blur. Joel’s voice is thick with need, moaning your name, calling you his. You ride him until his hands grip your thighs so hard you’re sure you’ll bruise,but you don’t care. You want to wear his love.

And when you both come undone,him with a broken moan of your name, you gasping against his mouth,it’s not just heat. It’s home.

Next morning

You’re still in Joel’s shirt when you pad into the kitchen. Sarah’s got her laptop open and a mischievous grin on her face.

“You look very well-rested,” she teases, sipping her orange juice.

You lift an eyebrow. “You’re too observant.”

She grins. “I learn from the best.”

Joel walks by, gives you a swat on the hip and a kiss on the cheek. “Mornin’, trouble.”

“You talking to me or her?” you smirk.

“Both.”

Sarah spins her laptop around. “Wanna see something cool?”

Joel squints. “Uh oh.”

Sarah clicks a few keys. “So, our charming new neighbor uses ‘puppies123’ as her Wi-Fi password. Can you believe that?”

You blink. “Wait. How do you know that?”

“I asked her yesterday when I brought over cookies. She doesn’t know I’m a tech nerd.”

Joel groans. “Sarah…”

Sarah smirks. “Relax. I didn’t hack anything. I just connected to it.”

You cross your arms. “And what exactly are you planning?”

Sarah grins like a little villain. “I may have downloaded a program that limits her streaming speeds between 6 and 11 p.m.”

You stare.

She adds, “Prime flirting hours.”

Joel facepalms. “You’re grounded.”

Sarah shrugs. “Worth it.”

You blink, then burst out laughing. “I didn’t raise a little genius, but I definitely married one.”

Joel kisses your temple. “God help me, I love you both.”

[multific]

Meant to Be

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: He fought for his freedom and your hand.

In ancient Rome, a love story unfolded between a bold gladiator named Marcus Acacius and a beautiful noble lady, whose heart longed for freedom. 

However, their love faced impossible obstacles, primarily the strict and overbearing father of the noblewoman.

Marcus, a strong and skilled warrior, fought in the grand arenas of Rome.

His every victory brought him one step closer to the freedom he yearned for. Little did he know that destiny had something more in store for him.

One day, as Marcus stepped into the arena, his eyes met the gaze of a noble lady, whose name was yet unknown to him. 

Her radiance captivated his soul, and from that moment on, Marcus fought with a new fire within him, fueled by the desire to win not only his freedom but also the heart of the lady.

Your paths intertwined further when, against all odds, Marcus caught the attention of the noble lady's father, a stern and unyielding man who demanded nothing but the highest standards for his daughter. 

He saw potential in Marcus, both as a gladiator and as a worthy suitor for his beloved daughter. If Marcus could prove his worth.

You on the other hand.

You were not blind.

You could see the gladiator looking at you in a certain way.

You could also see just how handsome he was. How great his built was.

You noticed the way he moved, the way he always won. You liked him.

As Marcus continued to triumph in the arena, his reputation grew, and whispers of his love for you reached your ears. 

In secret, you exchanged stolen glances and heartfelt letters, your love blossoming despite the obstacles that stood in your way.

Determined to prove himself worthy, Marcus embarked on a difficult journey, training tirelessly to become more than just a gladiator. 

He studied the arts, philosophy, and etiquette, moulding himself into a man who would be worthy of your hand.

The day of reckoning arrived when Marcus was granted his freedom. 

With his newfound liberty, he approached your father, humbly seeking his blessing to marry his daughter. 

Your father, initially sceptical, witnessed the change Marcus had undergone, and his heart softened. 

He recognised the genuine love that existed between his daughter and the brave gladiator.

"You may marry my daughter." your father said and Marcus felt fulfilled. 

His freedom was nothing compared to the feeling of his love and dedication finally reaching his goal.

With tears of joy running down your face, you ran into his arms, finally embracing Marcus. 

"I knew you would do it. I knew you would come for me." you whispered.

"Always." he replied before embracing your lips with his.

It all felt so right.

Meant to be.

In a grand ceremony, surrounded by many, Marcus Acacius and you, a noblewoman exchanged vows of eternal love, promising to cherish and protect each other for the rest of your lives.

Marcus, the once-captive gladiator, became a free man, not only in body but also in spirit. 

Together, you embraced a future filled with love, respect, and shared dreams, forever grateful for the journey that had led you to this moment of true happiness.

And it was only you and your husband.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/