mountainsandmayhem

[mountainsandmayhem]

🥺 close. Very close.

home library so I never have to leave the house 📚

[mountainsandmayhem]

She knows what she wants and won’t quit until she gets it! Smart enough to know when to push and when to pull. Tommy is definitely done for!!!

Side note, will you be in charge of my playlists? lol

Maid Discreetly - Chapter 9

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: Tommy tries to stop himself, he really does. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. It's both very mean and very on brand for me to leave you like this. Word Count: 1.9k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

TW: Chapter is from Tommy's POV only, age gap (40/25), talks to exhibitionism, dom/sub relationship, begging, mentions of sexual acts

Tommy

“We aren’t talking about this,” he says.

Of fucking course he read your checklist. It’s still on his office desk right now. Every time he gets near the door, he can almost feel the letter corrupting him, whispering all the delicious sins that are checked off on the pages. He had planned to slide it right back under your door tonight while you slept. He hated the plan but it’s the right one. 

“Why?” you ask, your face full of determination, arms out as if to demand an answer. A pinkish glow illuminates your cheeks, your brow slightly furrowed, and he knows he’s fucked. Yours is the one face that he can never say no to. In fact, at this very moment, he considers letting you be the one in charge so you can do all those dirty checklist deeds to him. Instead, he schools his face and lets his voice drop to a commanding tone.

“I thought you didn’t fill it out for me,” he reminds you. Those were your words last night when he told you not to do it after all. That you weren’t filling it out for him. He knew you were full of shit, he knew that you knew you were too.

“I didn’t–” you start, but he cuts you off before you can continue. 

“Then why does it matter if I read it or not? I cannot do that with you,” he states, lifting his wine glass to his lips, desperately needing something to wet his dry throat. This is bad, really fucking bad.  Playing that drinking game last night, rubbing his foot along yours, all of that was toeing the line, but this is full on catapulting himself over it. 

Your head falls back on the couch as you let out an exasperated sigh. His hand aches to wrap around your throat, to tell you not to whine. You keep your eyes on the ceiling for a minute, then look back at him with a contemplating stare, your wine glass still in your hand.

“Can someone else?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack. “Are you insane? How do you think your dad would react if he found out that I let a stranger take you into a sex club and…”

“And, what?” you challenge, swirling the wine around in your glass.

“Sweetheart,” he warns sternly.

“And, what, Miller?” you say again, your words like knives along his skin.

“You’re on mighty thin ice,” he cautions. 

You adjust your body, sitting up tall and pushing your breasts out towards him. Even though the Miller Construction hoodie is made of thick cotton, he swears he can see your nipples through it.

“Then just call me Wayne fucking Gretzky, baby boy.”

Tommy sighs, a hand running along the scruff of his chin to stop from laughing or grabbing you and punishing you. Since he can’t push you sexually, he’ll have to try verbally. He clears his throat before he starts. 

“Fine, if that’s how you want to play it. How do you think your dad would react if he found out that I let someone take you into my club, strip you down, tease you…taunt you. Made you go all weak and boneless, turning you into a desperate, writhing, moaning mess while you’re tied down? What if he slipped a vibrating plug into your ass, then lapped and sucked at your clit before slipping his fingers inside your tight little cunt.” He lifts his hand, your eyes darting from his face to his upturned palm, his ring and middle fingers curling back and forth. He smirks and continues, “Stroking your g spot, telling you to scream his name so everyone know who you belong to as the pressure builds and you explode, squirting everywhere while a room full of people watch through a thin pane of glass. Would you really be okay with him knowing that? His perfect daughter, on display.”

You swallow hard and are silent for a moment too long. He huffs a quiet laugh and shakes his head. “Well?”

You don’t shrink back; you keep the tough exterior, but he knows he’s got you in a spot that you aren’t sure you can handle. “I’m an adult, Tommy,” you press, then tilt your head in challenge before continuing. “I can get fucked by whomever I like, and I’m sure you and Joel are smart enough to have privacy policies in place. I can also just go down to JMKink and become a member. You know that, right?”

He finishes his glass of wine and then stands, moving to pace between the back of the couch and the large windows. He can't help but wonder if you know how much he likes a slightly bratty and mouthy sub. “You most certainly will not. I jokingly called you a little hellraiser the other night, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this. You’re so…kind. Where is this coming from, sweetheart?”

You match his energy, standing and walking his direction as you say, “I’ve only ever had one orgasm from a man before. One, Tommy. Do you think that’s fair?”

Your steps are slow and calculated, and he keeps the space between the two of you at a respectable distance as you approach him. Of course he doesn’t think that you having shitty partners is fair. You deserve a thousand orgasms, tens of thousands if it was up to him. But he can’t. Yes, as you pointed out, him and Joel are smart enough o have privacy policies in place. Members sign NDA’s; they aren’t allowed to talk about the club or who is or isn’t a member. But you’re part of notably one of the wealthiest families in Austin. Regardless if you believe him or not, everyone will know you’re in there, and they will talk. Your reputation, his relationship with your father, all of it is too important. 

“I can’t,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“Ok, I don’t need you to be the one Tommy. Just let me become a member. Let me find someone who can teach me…please.” The last word is deflated and desperate, and he squeezes his fists tight to stop from reaching out to you. “Tommy, please.”

He turns away from you, walking towards his office, removing the band from his hair and carding his hands through it to fluff his curls as he huffs out a long, slow breath. His heart is racing. He’s weak around you - for you. He can only say no for so long before it becomes a yes. 

His hand reaches out for your checklist, the paper sending sparks up into his forearm. When he turns around, you’re leaning against the door frame. You stare at one another for a few heartbeats, the energy between the two of you almost palpable. 

Like he could reach out and grab it, wrap it around you, and use it to tie you down. 

Your breaths match his, shaky and uneven, before he breaks the silence. “Tell me how it happened, the one orgasm.” 

“I - we were on his sailboat…” you start.

“Preston?” he asks, his intestines knotting at the thought of him ever having you.

“Yes,” you respond. “We were out on the lake, and the thought of someone seeing us or hearing me... Well, it made me come.”

If there wasn’t already a nail in his coffin when it came to you, there was one now. More than a nail - that fucker was welded shut. You just admitted to being an exhibitionist. Sure, he knew that from your form, but to hear you say it makes him almost certifiably insane. He’s never wished he could crawl out of his skin before, but right now that’s the only way to guarantee he doesn’t do something incredibly stupid. He leans back to rest on the desk, crossing his arms to restrain himself as best he can. 

“If I let you sign up, you can’t use the voyeur rooms,” Tommy says slowly.

You raise an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t that be up to my dom?”

“Do you want a dom, or do you want a partner?”

He can almost see you working out the difference between the two. “That depends,” you finally state.

“On?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

The air becomes impossibly thicker, making his skin itch. “Which one gets me you, Miller?”

“You and your smart fuckin’ mouth,” he rasps, his voice slipping into his dominate alter ego, low and husky. He sees the way it affects you; your cheeks flush pink, and you squirm slightly as you shift your weight to your other foot. 

That’s right, get all wet for me, baby girl. 

You stand there, trembling and waiting. “You like that, don’t you? When my voice gets all low and serious?” he asks rhetorically.

You nod and he continues, “Bet I could get you to do anything I wanted as long as I used this voice. You might talk back, but nothing a spanking couldn’t fix. Isn’t that right…sweetheart?”

Your breathing picks up, your chest heaving under his hoodie and this time he really can see your nipples through it; tight little peaks desperate for his attention. Finally, a broken plea of a whisper leaves your lips.

“Teach me, Tommy.”

He’s past the point of no return now. It doesn’t matter how logical the reasons not to do this are, he can’t keep away any longer. Furthermore, you’re right; you are an adult, but he needs to make sure you know what you’re agreeing to.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But I want to.”

He watches your soft lips as you confess that you want him, then catches the slight squeeze of your thighs. “I’m much older than you, and friends with your dad.”

“I don’t care. Just, please show me Tommy.”

Fuck.

“Close the door,” he commands, watching as you move on shaky legs to step into his office, gently shutting the door behind you. Your hand trembles as you move it from the door knob to let it rest at your side. “What are you supposed to call me in situations like this?”

“Sir,” you rasp.

He nods cockily, smirking like the devil he is as he closes the distance between the two of you. He slips his hand around the back of your neck, the warmth of your smooth skin on his palm sending a jolt through him. “Go on then, sweetheart. Ask for what you want.”

You swallow hard, craning your neck up to look at him. Your eyes are already blown out with need and he’s only touching your neck. “P-please show me how to come, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” he growls and then slams his lips into yours. 

[mountainsandmayhem]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter 9

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: Tommy tries to stop himself, he really does. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. It's both very mean and very on brand for me to leave you like this. Word Count: 1.9k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

TW: Chapter is from Tommy's POV only, age gap (40/25), talks to exhibitionism, dom/sub relationship, begging, mentions of sexual acts

Tommy

“We aren’t talking about this,” he says.

Of fucking course he read your checklist. It’s still on his office desk right now. Every time he gets near the door, he can almost feel the letter corrupting him, whispering all the delicious sins that are checked off on the pages. He had planned to slide it right back under your door tonight while you slept. He hated the plan but it’s the right one. 

“Why?” you ask, your face full of determination, arms out as if to demand an answer. A pinkish glow illuminates your cheeks, your brow slightly furrowed, and he knows he’s fucked. Yours is the one face that he can never say no to. In fact, at this very moment, he considers letting you be the one in charge so you can do all those dirty checklist deeds to him. Instead, he schools his face and lets his voice drop to a commanding tone.

“I thought you didn’t fill it out for me,” he reminds you. Those were your words last night when he told you not to do it after all. That you weren’t filling it out for him. He knew you were full of shit, he knew that you knew you were too.

“I didn’t–” you start, but he cuts you off before you can continue. 

“Then why does it matter if I read it or not? I cannot do that with you,” he states, lifting his wine glass to his lips, desperately needing something to wet his dry throat. This is bad, really fucking bad.  Playing that drinking game last night, rubbing his foot along yours, all of that was toeing the line, but this is full on catapulting himself over it. 

Your head falls back on the couch as you let out an exasperated sigh. His hand aches to wrap around your throat, to tell you not to whine. You keep your eyes on the ceiling for a minute, then look back at him with a contemplating stare, your wine glass still in your hand.

“Can someone else?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack. “Are you insane? How do you think your dad would react if he found out that I let a stranger take you into a sex club and…”

“And, what?” you challenge, swirling the wine around in your glass.

“Sweetheart,” he warns sternly.

“And, what, Miller?” you say again, your words like knives along his skin.

“You’re on mighty thin ice,” he cautions. 

You adjust your body, sitting up tall and pushing your breasts out towards him. Even though the Miller Construction hoodie is made of thick cotton, he swears he can see your nipples through it.

“Then just call me Wayne fucking Gretzky, baby boy.”

Tommy sighs, a hand running along the scruff of his chin to stop from laughing or grabbing you and punishing you. Since he can’t push you sexually, he’ll have to try verbally. He clears his throat before he starts. 

“Fine, if that’s how you want to play it. How do you think your dad would react if he found out that I let someone take you into my club, strip you down, tease you…taunt you. Made you go all weak and boneless, turning you into a desperate, writhing, moaning mess while you’re tied down? What if he slipped a vibrating plug into your ass, then lapped and sucked at your clit before slipping his fingers inside your tight little cunt.” He lifts his hand, your eyes darting from his face to his upturned palm, his ring and middle fingers curling back and forth. He smirks and continues, “Stroking your g spot, telling you to scream his name so everyone know who you belong to as the pressure builds and you explode, squirting everywhere while a room full of people watch through a thin pane of glass. Would you really be okay with him knowing that? His perfect daughter, on display.”

You swallow hard and are silent for a moment too long. He huffs a quiet laugh and shakes his head. “Well?”

You don’t shrink back; you keep the tough exterior, but he knows he’s got you in a spot that you aren’t sure you can handle. “I’m an adult, Tommy,” you press, then tilt your head in challenge before continuing. “I can get fucked by whomever I like, and I’m sure you and Joel are smart enough to have privacy policies in place. I can also just go down to JMKink and become a member. You know that, right?”

He finishes his glass of wine and then stands, moving to pace between the back of the couch and the large windows. He can't help but wonder if you know how much he likes a slightly bratty and mouthy sub. “You most certainly will not. I jokingly called you a little hellraiser the other night, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this. You’re so…kind. Where is this coming from, sweetheart?”

You match his energy, standing and walking his direction as you say, “I’ve only ever had one orgasm from a man before. One, Tommy. Do you think that’s fair?”

Your steps are slow and calculated, and he keeps the space between the two of you at a respectable distance as you approach him. Of course he doesn’t think that you having shitty partners is fair. You deserve a thousand orgasms, tens of thousands if it was up to him. But he can’t. Yes, as you pointed out, him and Joel are smart enough o have privacy policies in place. Members sign NDA’s; they aren’t allowed to talk about the club or who is or isn’t a member. But you’re part of notably one of the wealthiest families in Austin. Regardless if you believe him or not, everyone will know you’re in there, and they will talk. Your reputation, his relationship with your father, all of it is too important. 

“I can’t,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“Ok, I don’t need you to be the one Tommy. Just let me become a member. Let me find someone who can teach me…please.” The last word is deflated and desperate, and he squeezes his fists tight to stop from reaching out to you. “Tommy, please.”

He turns away from you, walking towards his office, removing the band from his hair and carding his hands through it to fluff his curls as he huffs out a long, slow breath. His heart is racing. He’s weak around you - for you. He can only say no for so long before it becomes a yes. 

His hand reaches out for your checklist, the paper sending sparks up into his forearm. When he turns around, you’re leaning against the door frame. You stare at one another for a few heartbeats, the energy between the two of you almost palpable. 

Like he could reach out and grab it, wrap it around you, and use it to tie you down. 

Your breaths match his, shaky and uneven, before he breaks the silence. “Tell me how it happened, the one orgasm.” 

“I - we were on his sailboat…” you start.

“Preston?” he asks, his intestines knotting at the thought of him ever having you.

“Yes,” you respond. “We were out on the lake, and the thought of someone seeing us or hearing me... Well, it made me come.”

If there wasn’t already a nail in his coffin when it came to you, there was one now. More than a nail - that fucker was welded shut. You just admitted to being an exhibitionist. Sure, he knew that from your form, but to hear you say it makes him almost certifiably insane. He’s never wished he could crawl out of his skin before, but right now that’s the only way to guarantee he doesn’t do something incredibly stupid. He leans back to rest on the desk, crossing his arms to restrain himself as best he can. 

“If I let you sign up, you can’t use the voyeur rooms,” Tommy says slowly.

You raise an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t that be up to my dom?”

“Do you want a dom, or do you want a partner?”

He can almost see you working out the difference between the two. “That depends,” you finally state.

“On?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

The air becomes impossibly thicker, making his skin itch. “Which one gets me you, Miller?”

“You and your smart fuckin’ mouth,” he rasps, his voice slipping into his dominate alter ego, low and husky. He sees the way it affects you; your cheeks flush pink, and you squirm slightly as you shift your weight to your other foot. 

That’s right, get all wet for me, baby girl. 

You stand there, trembling and waiting. “You like that, don’t you? When my voice gets all low and serious?” he asks rhetorically.

You nod and he continues, “Bet I could get you to do anything I wanted as long as I used this voice. You might talk back, but nothing a spanking couldn’t fix. Isn’t that right…sweetheart?”

Your breathing picks up, your chest heaving under his hoodie and this time he really can see your nipples through it; tight little peaks desperate for his attention. Finally, a broken plea of a whisper leaves your lips.

“Teach me, Tommy.”

He’s past the point of no return now. It doesn’t matter how logical the reasons not to do this are, he can’t keep away any longer. Furthermore, you’re right; you are an adult, but he needs to make sure you know what you’re agreeing to.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But I want to.”

He watches your soft lips as you confess that you want him, then catches the slight squeeze of your thighs. “I’m much older than you, and friends with your dad.”

“I don’t care. Just, please show me Tommy.”

Fuck.

“Close the door,” he commands, watching as you move on shaky legs to step into his office, gently shutting the door behind you. Your hand trembles as you move it from the door knob to let it rest at your side. “What are you supposed to call me in situations like this?”

“Sir,” you rasp.

He nods cockily, smirking like the devil he is as he closes the distance between the two of you. He slips his hand around the back of your neck, the warmth of your smooth skin on his palm sending a jolt through him. “Go on then, sweetheart. Ask for what you want.”

You swallow hard, craning your neck up to look at him. Your eyes are already blown out with need and he’s only touching your neck. “P-please show me how to come, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” he growls and then slams his lips into yours. 

[mountainsandmayhem]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter 8

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: What seems like a normal dinner opens is actually a moment of realization for both you and Tommy. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. Word Count: 3.9k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

T/W: female masturbation, talks to death and loss (parents, grandparents, spouse), mutual pining and angst

You

Your fingers swirl again and again along your clit, pleasure building and spreading. You try not to think of Tommy, but he seems to be the only thing that works lately and you fall over the edge with a loud, unabashed moan. No one is around to hear you, and even if they were, that would just get you there faster. Your legs shake, water sloshes with each buck of your hips. As your orgasm tapers the rain starts coming down in sheets again, the trees no longer doing their part in playing canopy. You pull the plug at the bottom of the tub and then glance towards the house before getting out. You feel like you should be ashamed or embarrassed that the only thing that got you off just now was the possibility that Tommy could be watching, but you aren’t. In fact, if he read your checklist then he’d know you enjoy it, and even though you’ve never fucked in front of an audience, you very much would like to. 

You wrap yourself in the fluffy white bath sheet and head inside. The house is quiet, the office door still shut, so you assume Tommy is in his office still as you head upstairs to slip into the clean sweats and t-shirt he left you this morning. After pulling on a black JM Construction hoodie, you check your phone.

Laren: Heard you’re rained in with Tommy. You fucking yet? You: Would you freaking chill, he’s my dad’s friend Laren: Your dad’s hot friend You: Alright, if we do fuck, I’ll tell you first. Deal? Laren: Deal! Hey, I think I got an exciting party coming up, did you want to waitress again? You: Tarps on or off? Laren: lol, tarps on, most likely, but it’s burlesque themed You: At JMKink? Laren: I knew you two were fucking You: *middle finger emoji*

You have a missed text from your dad.

Dad: Just talked to the county. Road’s going to need at least a day of sun before they test it. You still okay? You: All good here. No need to worry.

Right after you hit send, two back-to-back texts come through from Kim.

Kim: I fell asleep on the beach and I am so burnt. Kim: I’m crashing out. Don’t ever mention this again but I wish Joel was here to hold ice to my skin and apply aloe. You: Oh, babe. I’m so fucking sorry. I can send you some miracle stuff I found if you want? Kim: Laren told me you’re shacked up with Tommy, that made me feel a bit better, tbh You: Jesus Christ. Ya, I’m rained in here. Kim: Still want him to fuck himself by proxy? You: Yes Kim: I don’t think I’ll be able to wear a bra for a week. Fuck. I’m such an idiot You: Don’t beat yourself up. It happens to us all at some point. Kim: I hate that I miss him. I need to go bury my face in a book to stop this spiral. Keep me posted on the Tommy situation.

You consider calling her, letting her know it’s okay to be sad, but she told you she doesn’t have time to grieve what could have been. Even though both of you know it’s not healthy to stuff feelings down, she has no choice right now. Instead, you log into your Amazon and send Kim some of your go to sunburn cream, then watch the rain coming down outside for a few minutes before throwing your phone on the bed and heading downstairs.

Tommy is in the kitchen, an open beer, a few potatoes and a bowl of fresh strawberries on the island. He keeps his attention on some steaks as he gently pats them dry.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cracking even though you’re desperately trying to play it cool, like you weren’t just outside finger fucking yourself to the thought of him. 

He looks up, his face flat and unbothered. He’s fresh from the shower, his wet curls gathered into a bun at the back of his head. “Hey, was wondering where you were.”

Nope, he definitely didn’t read your checklist or see you outside. Disappointment settles heavy in the bottom of your stomach. You rest your forearms on the island, sliding them forward to hold most of your body weight. “Can I help with something? I’m feeling like a freeloader.”

He snorts a quiet laugh, tipping his head to the few potatoes sitting on a paper towel, “You can peel those if you want.”

“Sure! When I was growing up, my mom always used to say that the best way to secure a husband was through good mashed potatoes.” You pad barefoot to stand beside him at the counter. 

“That’s all it takes, huh?” You watch as he rubs the salt and pepper into the meat, wishing it was your body instead.

You shrug, “Beats me, I’ve never made mashed potatoes for a man before. And honestly, unless she cooked before I was born, I don’t think she ever made them for my dad. It looks like it’s raining pretty hard again, are you barbecuing?”

“No, cast iron. Just cube those and I’ll grab a pot in a second.”

It’s so tempting to respond with a sultry ‘yes, sir’, but you settle with an army like, “Yes, Chef” instead, pulling another small laugh from Tommy’s throat. It feels good to make someone laugh. Preston never laughed at your jokes or sassy remarks. If anything, he’d tell you to stop it. 

Before you grab the knife you bend over the bowl of strawberry and suck in a breath through your nose. They smell like summer. You both work in silence. He washes his hands and gets you the pot then moves on to pulling herbs out of the fridge. 

“Beer?” He asks. 

“Sure, thank you.” He grabs you one, twisting off the top and putting it beside your cutting board. He takes a sip from his before starting to prep the herbs that you assume he’s going to use on the steaks. “Meat, potatoes and beer. Classic bachelor dinner after last night.”

“I have bacon wrapped asparagus and a salad in the fridge, sweetheart. I’m not an animal.”

You scoop the potatoes into the pot and add water, then put your knife and cutting board in the sink before hopping up onto the counter, your bare feet swinging nonchalantly. You reach for you beer with one hand and a strawberry with the other, “So you just had all this food out here already? Or were you maybe expecting company and then got stuck with me.”

“I was not expecting company. When your house is done, you’ll understand that cooking for one is nearly impossible.” He flashes you a smile, lingering a bit too long as your lips wrap around the strawberry before you pull it back out. 

“When my what?” You respond. What does he mean when your house is done? What house? Is Tommy building you a house? Why?

“What?” He says, eyes widening.

“My house? What house? Why…when…When my what?” you sputter nervously, trying to say the words separately, but they somehow come out all at once. 

“Ahh - shit,” he huffs. “I thought your dad would have told you by now.”

“Are you…” you stop there, he knows what you mean and confused doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. Your parents - well, father - has always said that you are to live at home until you’re engaged.

“I said I wouldn’t say anything.” He stands in front of you and even sitting on the counter you have to look up at him. 

“Leg,” he whispers and you furrow your brows. “You’re blocking the cast iron pans.”

You slide down the counter a bit so he can get the pan. He crouches, his shoulder skimming your calf as he does so. You glance down at him, “So, you’re building me a house?”

He moves the pans around, not looking up at you as he speaks. “Technically, one of my crews is building a house that your dad requested, but yes.”

“Why?” You ponder.

“Don’t most people move out much younger than you?” He stands, hauling the heavy pan with him as if it weighs nothing. Something about the way he’s avoiding your gaze makes you think he knows something. 

“Yeah, but my parents have always said I can’t move out until I’m engaged.” Tommy only shrugs in response; his back to you as he starts to prepare the pan and you begin to spiral. 

Tommy flips a kitchen towel over his shoulder, glancing over at you as he does it. “He just said he wanted a house built and asked me not to say anything, so if you could act surprised when he tells you please.”

You nod, taking a bigger drink than necessary. It doesn’t make sense for your dad to push you out like his. The sound of the natural gas stove top turning on clicks loudly and you can’t help but feel like it’s a countdown to your independence being snatched away from you. Your dad must have a man in mind for you, one he has high hopes for. Unless…is he maybe going to California for longer than you know? 

It's quiet for quite some time, Tommy occasionally glancing your direction as you work through all your thoughts. He doesn’t say anything as you process the magnitude of what he just told you, granted he might not realize just how huge this really is. Dinner is almost ready, both of your beers empty when he steps in front of you again, his hands coming to rest on the counter on either side of your sweatpant clad legs.  

“You ok in there?” his voice is soft and low.

You blink up at him and clear your throat. “Yeah, just - maybe I’m overreacting.”

 His head tilts to the right slightly, one of his hands rising to push your hair behind your ear. He hesitates, almost as if he’s going to cup your face and then decides against it as he drops his hand back to the counter. The touches between the two of you feel anything but casual, and the two of you both in sweats and barefeet making dinner is a level of domesticity that you have never experienced before. Maybe this is normal for adults, and because of who your parents are you've just never seen it before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t really think there’s much to talk about.” You pick at the label of the bottle still clutched in your hands absentmindedly.

“Ok, I’m here if you need.” He says, his lips pulling into a shy smile.

“Thank you,” you murmur. In the short time you’ve known Tommy he’s both told and shown you that he’s there for you, but the nagging insecurity and fear that any man who gets close to you is just there for the money or opportunities that your last name brings doesn’t cease.  

“Wine?” He asks rhetorically. 

“I’m on it,” you say with a smile, thankful for the distraction from your thoughts. As if the two of you have done this a million times before, he steps back and holds out a hand, you slip yours into his and jump off the counter then wander towards the pantry and wine cooler. You pick a Merlot from Argentina, knowing that the oaky richness will pair well with red meat and potatoes. “My parents always asking for the sommelier at dinners has really paid off these last two days.”

To your surprise, Tommy lets out a deep, straight from the belly laugh. Your brows pull together as you try to work through what you just said. It wasn’t a joke, it was true. “What’s so funny?”

He takes the asparagus out of the oven. “You just say the most trust fund baby things sometimes.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

Rage prickles at your skin and you honestly aren’t sure why. You do have a trust fund, which is unfortunately public knowledge. Is he judging you? Or jealous? You’ve never seen having money as an all-access path. You worked hard in school and in your job at Maid Discreetly. You may have gotten a job there because your dad owned it, but you’ve put in the time to get to where you are. He must sense the shift in you as you open the wine. When you turn around he’s looking at you with guilt splashed across his face. 

“I might have a trust fund, but I have worked for everything else,” you say, trying to keep your tone even. 

“I swear I didn’t know…” You cut him off.

“All of Austin fucking knows, Tommy.” The anger that simmers beneath your skin holds as you speak. “Somehow it became front page news after my brother passed away. And I mean that literally. Our family's tragic loss was front page news, as was the amount of money that I’ll get access to. It was so bad that we had to move to the gated community we are in now, my parents had to sue the news agency, and I had to switch to a private school.”

“Sweetheart, I promise I didn’t know. I was just trying to make a joke. I never would have said it if I had known.” He steps into your space, his russet brown eyes dancing around your face. You realize in this moment that you’re acting out as a defence mechanism, similar to how Tommy did the night of the gala. Maybe the two of you aren’t that different.

“I’m sorry. I guess - I don’t know, I don’t like that people assume that I’ve had an easy road.” 

 “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t be sorry. I know you’ve worked hard. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

You nod, then turn your attention back to the wine. As you pour, Tommy starts to plate the food. Even as he preps, he keeps his attention on you. Your insecurities nag at you, convincing you you need to say more. 

“I’m self aware enough to realize that it's been a privileged road; with private schools, a warm roof over my head and food always on the table. But I studied hard, finishing high school with honors and a plethora of scholarships, all of which I declined because they should go to students who need the assistance.” 

“Sweetheart, I really didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to explain yourself. You should be proud of who you are.” After a few seconds he adds, “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Tommy

He feels like shit for joking about your trust fund. He assumed you had one based on your last name, but he shouldn’t have said anything. Plus, your wine choices have been excellent the past two nights so he should be thanking whoever was rich enough to ensure you had the luxury of listening to a sommelier your entire life. 

He takes a bite of mashed potatoes, the butter and garlic making them creamy and delicious. “Wow, these potatoes are good.”

He looks across the dining room table at you, the early evening grey sky behind you. God damn she is so stunningly beautiful, he thinks as a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. 

“Are you about to propose? Was my mom right? Either way, I accept Tommy Miller!” You extend your left hand out to him, wiggling your ring finger.

“Good thing you’re cute, sweetheart.” He says with an eye roll as you laugh, your hand falling to pick up the bottle of wine.

“So, how exactly did you get into building homes? Was it Joel?”

He cuts a piece of steak and says, “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, according to the update from my dad this afternoon the county said the road needs at least a day of sunshine before it’s safe to drive on. So, I think we have time.”

He sighs, then watches as you top up the wine glasses and then tap your ear in an ‘I’m listening’ motion. “Alright. You and I had very different upbringings. Joel and I grew up on a small ranch, owned by our grandparents, outside of Austin. Our mom lived there too but she worked a full time job and worked at the farm to help my grandparents. Joel was left to watch me a lot. Shortly after turning nineteen Joel had his daughter, then moved in with Tiffany before they got married about a year after Sarah was born. Selfishly, that was probably the worst thing that could have happened to me because without Joel, I was a nightmare.”

The two of you eat as he talks, him sometimes stopping to take bites of food, but you sit there listening, never pushing him to explain or interrupting. “I don’t know if you’ve ever met Joel, but he has a very commanding and soothing presence, it’s just in his nature. Anyway, my grandpa eventually told me it’s college or the army. I chose college, but got kicked out during my second year when our mom got sick. She passed away thinking her one son was a loser while the other was living the life she always imagined for us.”

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” your voice is a soft whisper, eyes full of empathy. His heart stops beating at the sight of you and it’s almost impossible to breathe. No one has ever looked at him like that, like they genuinely, truly care. He’s falling, but if he looked deeper he’d realize that that happened that night in your parents' pantry, and what he’s feeling now is the final piece clicking into place. He’s in love.

“Thank you,” he swallows hard before continuing. “I know now that that’s not the case now. Our mom loved both of us equally, but it really fucked me up for a while. My grandma’s health started to decline shortly after and they had to sell their ranch. I think that maybe Joel would have taken it over if he hadn’t had Sarah. Anyway, with college being a flop that left the army. I was on my way to sign up when Joel called me. He and Tiffany had built an apartment over their garage and wanted to rent it to me and I could work for Joel. It sounded better than six weeks of intense boot camps and missing the last few years of my grandparents' lives.”

He sits back in his chair, taking his wine glass with him. He lets out a silent laugh and shakes his head. “God, I’ll never forget how much I fucking hated it at first. Being on site at six in the morning, pouring concrete, hauling big wooden beams, constant banging of hammers and whirling of saws. Everyday I was caked in mud and drenched in sweat. I couldn’t believe that this was my life. No parents, a grandparent on her final days, and then Joel’s wife got sick.” He feels heat pressing behind his eyes and when he’s silent for just a heartbeat too long you speak, your voice all soft and velvety against his skin.

“Did you want to talk about her?” If you noticed the tears welling along his lash line you don’t mention them.

“Tiff was, well, I don’t think there’s a word to describe her, but I think you would have liked her. She definitely would have liked you.” He smiles, pushing the tears back down because Tiffany left him very strict instructions not to cry over her. “It wasn’t until I led the build of my first home that I really realized how good it could feel. I had been helping Joel for a few years and getting my carpentry certification, but never really saw a project from start to finish. That first house though - it changed something in me. I built a home that a family was going to grow in, and make memories like I had with my family growing up.”

“That’s really beautiful, Tommy.” You reply, smiling softly at him. He leans forward and fills your glasses, finishing the bottle off as he continues.

“I still go sit outside that house sometimes when I’m feeling discouraged or sad. It reminds me of what I can do, and the type of man I want to be.”

“What type of man? A family man?” You ask, not accusingly, just curiously.

“No, not necessarily. More like the type of man who can see things through, commit from start to finish. A man who understands the value of hard work and can create something long standing.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” you murmur.

“I don’t think I’ve told anyone all of that before.” His eyes flick to yours and something behind his navel tightens. Fuck.   

A comfortable silence surrounds him before you both say, “We should clean up.”

Trying to lighten up the mood he says, “You going to charge me for that? Or does taking in the future CEO get me a deal?”

You laugh, standing and collecting dishes, him doing the same then following you to the kitchen. “This one is complimentary, but going forward I’ll be sure to send you an invoice.”

You

You and Tommy chat about your work days as you clean up. You tell him about your meetings, he tells you about the laundry list of things that need to get fixed from the storm. After you finish up he grabs another bottle of the Merlot you picked for dinner and you both head to the couch. Tommy clicks on the sitcom you watched together last night. It's quiet, yet comfortable as you both watch, and your mind starts to wander to thoughts of the man across the couch from you.

You know, without a doubt in your mind, that you’re falling for Tommy. He was such an asshole when you first met him, but after your walls went up with him before dinner you’ve realized that judging him for his defense mechanisms isn’t right. Especially since Tommy handled your defiance with such kindness, apologizing for setting you off even though he couldn’t have possibly known that you’d react that way. The boys your father has approved of for you to date have always been awful. You cannot imagine any of them doing one of the things Tommy has done over these last twenty four hours. If anyone deserves what you have, it’s him. Not some spoiled underachiever like all your dad’s friends' sons. You know every single one of them is itching to marry someone like you. Your father opens doors for them, especially as he branches out into LA. Plus, thanks to the insane prenup your dad will make them sign, they’d never have access to your trust fund if you got divorced. So, as archaic as it is, your marriage really will be for life. Marriage always seemed like trap to you, stuck with some prep school, linen-pants-wearing frat boy who won’t know where your clit is. Now, since meeting Tommy, you realize you aren’t being dramatic for feeling that way. Tommy is a man; successful and self made. Plus, he definitely would know how to find that little spot that makes your pussy flutter. That’s got to be a pre requisite for owning a kink club. 

You glance over at Tommy at the same time he looks at you. His dark eyes clashing with yours. The air between you feels thick, like you both have so much you want to say but can’t say it. His eyes watch as you lick your lips. 

“Did you read my checklist, Tommy?”

Next Chapter

[mountainsandmayhem]

Lazy Sunday? Spend it with Joel and Frankie (and Santi)

SoCal to NorCal - Series Masterlist (Ongoing)

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI Overall Series Warnings: (please check each chapter for specific chapter content!) no-outbreak!Joel AU, polyamory, age gap (I have them in mind as: Joel is in his early 50s, Frankie is in his early 40s, Reader is in her mid-to-late 30s, but ages are not specifically mentioned so make it you, boo), threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, MFM dynamics, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), creampie, cumplay, cum eating, hair pulling, spitting, alcohol consumption, food consumption/mentions of food, mention of drug addiction and recovery, fluff fluff and more fluff, but also so much smut, Frankie being the PEK, all of these men have big dicks, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, everyone is STD testing regularly and is clean and on some form of birth control, Reader is female, has female genitalia, and uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, Frankie has a young daughter but no specific reference to age, Sarah does not exist in this AU, no use of y/n Series Word Count: TBD Chapter 1: Malibu (ft. Santiago Garcia) Chapter 2: Hwy 101 and Beyond Chapter 3: Mill Valley Chapter 4: Home NEW! Chapter 5: Cataract Falls Chapter 6: NorCal Sunset

Disclaimer: inspo art is meant for vibes only - f!Reader is not written to be represented by any of the images.

If you would like to be added to the tag list for this series, please comment or reblog to let me know! 😘

Also, if there are things you’d like to see in future chapters - spicy or plot related, or both - also let me know! My inbox is open.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Any idea as to when more maid discreetly is coming our way? Love the stories you created. Thank you!!!

Hi doll!!

No 😢 I’m sorry. You can blame my job.

I do have a few chapters semi ready though. I promise, the second I get some me time that going through them one last time is my top priority.

Thank you for being so kind and patient.

*whispers* I love you.

Here’s some Tommy tax….

[mountainsandmayhem]

Uuuuggghhhhhh go fuckin’ home, PASCAL!!!!

🥵🥵🥵

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller in The Last of Us (1x01 When You're Lost in the Darkness)

[mountainsandmayhem]

Love your writing, it's an amazing talent you have. I saw a post earlier last week about the Tommy x reader fic Maid Discreetly getting updates but cannot find fit.. sorry Tumblr newbie, could you please link to it?

Hello lovely Nonnie Newbie!!

No need to apologize; I think I’m technically a newbie too since I just joined tumblr in 2024 😂

Here is my Masterlist and here is the link to Tommy’s story directly 🥰. Truthfully, I haven’t posted as much as I thought I would at this point, but if you wanted to follow my updates page ( @mountainsandmayhem-updates ) and turn on the notifications you’ll know as soon as I post! You can also subscribe to my AO3 with the same name (truthfully, I usually forget to post to AO3 lol).

Thank you so much for your kind words xx

[mountainsandmayhem]

I have stayed up so late every night over the past few days devouring your BDSMaids stories and I have so many thoughts 😍 (all good, btw)

First, shout out to representation of women choosing to be childless but also extremely involved in their community as evidenced by the fierce passion that Kim has pursuing her career as a lawyer. She is clearly an active participant in this human experience/experiment we all share daily by simply existing on this planet. I love that. I also feel very strongly that you do not have to have a child to be nurturing or caring or “complete” as a woman. That was so refreshing to see conveyed in her character.

Second, this little universe you have created is so captivating. I saw in one of the storyboards that this would be a trilogy. Did I miss an announcement, entirely possible, as to who the next story will be about? Is it Laren? Is it Tess? Am I making this up in my head, lol? Inquiring minds want to know 💕

And last, did I unknowingly skip a chapter where we find out what happened to Laren’s fiancée? Because inquiring minds also want to know that too. Inquiring minds is me, but surely this question is living in someone else’s brain too.

Anyways, love the work you write ✍️ 💻 📝

Can’t wait for more 💕 (respectfully, of course)

🥺

First, I’m sorry to have eaten into your sleep! I’m touched and honoured, but it’s really not that good to lose sleep over xo. Thank you!

Yes, I completely agree that you do not need to be a mother or wife to be seen as a fulfilled woman. This is coming from someone who was married and has a kid who is now almost an adult haha! But yes, I wanted to represent the other side of things and I hope I did it justice!!

Now listen….this started as ONE story that I honestly thought maybe 5 people would read, and now it’s expanded to FOUR stories 🫠. I am so deep in BDSMaid lore…

Moodboards for the ladies of BDSMaid

Snippets from future stories

Instagram profiles for the ladies

Aaaaand lastly….

Storyboards for each spinoff

Also, as far as what happened with Laren and her fiancée, you will find out soon enough 😉 I can’t possibly give away aaaaaalll my secrets.

Thank you again for reading this story and loving the characters and this little world I’ve made up in my head. 💕

[mountainsandmayhem]

You’re never too late! 💕

Thank you soooo much for reading and loving them. Also, this is the cutest little cozy gif! As a book girlie, 10/10 love it.

BDSMaid - Chapter 7

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I am not the least bit sorry for the ending 😉

Word Count: 8k

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

TW: open door smut scenes, unprotected P in V. Cream pie. Squirting. Use of nipple clamps. Oral (female receiving). Fingering (anal and vaginal). Ass play. Use of nicknames (good girl, sweet girl). Pussy and dick pronouns. Joel having a filthy mouth.

You

Holy shit, I just fucked Joel Miller. 

The thought rattles around your brain over and over, as if the more you say the more real it will feel, but you’re still floating, still up in the clouds even though you’re firmly tucked against Joel's side. Your head rests in his chest, rising and falling with the quick rhythm of this breathing. Your eyes flick down to his beautiful cock; it’s standing straight up, ready whenever you are, as you both try to slow your heartbeats and breathing. You nestle your body tighter to the warm, solid wall of a man beside you, wrapping a leg around his. He slides his fingers up and down your spine. As you lay in silence your mind races. 

“Just call me Joel”. 

There are almost too many things bouncing around your head, making it hard to focus on only one. Does he love me? When I tell him what I've decided with college, will he think I’m staying in Austin because of this? Aren’t I staying in Austin because of this? How else do I explain it? What about my friends? I don’t want to keep this a secret anymore; is this worth losing my job over? What if this is all part of his plan? Sleep with me and then use it as a reason to end our dom/sub relationship? Is this even a dom/sub relationship anymore? 

Anxiety and worry start to buzz through your veins. The sight of soft belly and rock hard cock blurs. You slam your eyes shut, the unknown starting to overwhelm you. Sucking in a big breath, you try to break the vice grip that’s starting to tighten around on your lungs and throat. 

“Are you ok?” Joel says softly. 

“Ya,” you nod as his free hand that's been tucked under his head comes to your chin and tilts it up. The moment you’re engulfed by his soft chocolate brown eyes, your brain stops. Quiet washes over you. You’re safe here, you’ve always been safe here. Rolling over, you perch yourself on his leg and hip, chin resting on the tops of your hands as they lay on his chest. You can feel his heart beating strong and steady under your hands. That’s what you need: consistent stability. No, not need, deserve.

Joel removes the golden clip from your hair. “Freckles, I probably should have said this before, but this isn’t what I normally do with my subs, and I’m…”

His eyes dance around yours as he pauses. You can see a million emotions happening at once, all of them mirrored in yours. Fear. Happiness. Confusion. Anxiety. Vulnerability. But mostly, love. You finish the sentence for him.

“I’m pretty sure we aren’t just a dom and a sub, Joel. I don’t know if we ever have been.”

I love you.

 With that, he pulls himself up, stuffing some pillows so he can lean comfortably against the headboard. You follow, and he guides you to straddle his lap, his cock pressed between your bodies. The air between you feels thick with emotion. Both of you look at the other, your shallow breaths in sync before both of you snap and dive in. The kiss is hungry and desperate. There’s probably a million things you both could say, but in this moment, the kiss is enough. 

“I’m never going to get enough of you,” he moans as your lips trail his jawline. 

“Good,” you hum, sliding your hips up to drag your pussy along his length. You’ve slept with a handful of men before Joel, but it’s never been this passionate with anyone else. You just had each other, yet here you both are, acting like it’s been years since you’ve touched. His head falls back, a sigh passing his parted lips as you kiss down his neck. 

“Fuck that feels good, sweet girl.” His hands tighten along your hips. Joel is always so concerned with your pleasure and needs, so for now, or for as long as he’ll let you, you spend time focusing on him. You kiss every inch of him that you can reach: his neck and shoulders, his collarbone and ear lobes, all while softly grinding against his cock. Every moan and gasp from his lips has you growing wetter. 

You drag your slippery pussy up his cock, both of you completely coated in your arousal. Joel lifts you to hover above his cock. “Need to feel you wrapped around me again. Please, sweet girl.”

You capture the sound of him begging with your lips, snake a hand in between your bodies, and guide the tip of his bare cock inside of yourself. You shudder and whimper at the delicious stretch of him. “Oh god.”

“This pussy,” he coos, and the sound of his weakness at the feel of you has the muscles behind your navel tightening. Your lips find his again as you slowly work yourself down his cock. “That’s my girl, nice and slow.”

You rock and grind, sliding him in further, your body writhing as you take inch by tortuous inch. As your hips finally come into contact with his, you still your movements and relax into the feeling of him at this new angle. Joel is definitely big, not in a scary romance novel kind of way, but bigger and thicker than you’ve been with. “Joel,” you mew, the vowels of his name lasting longer than they should and you tuck your head into his neck. 

“It’s all you, baby girl. Just sit on him if you need to, fuck.” He kisses your shoulder, hands moving to the globes of your ass. “Tell me how it feels.”

“F-full,” you whine into his skin. 

“What else, my sweet girl?”

“You’re so big, J-Joel. I can feel you everywhere. I - I need, oh my god.” You grind your hips forward slightly, the cool metal of his piercing sending a shockwave through your clit and up your spine. “More. I need more.”

“Just take it, baby. I’m yours.” He rasps between kisses along your shoulder and neck. 

You pull back, your face mere inches from him. He’s everywhere all at once and the painful stretch of your cunt around his cock starts to become an intense burning pleasure with each flick of your hips. 

“Suck on my nipples,” you gasp, leaning back slightly. The shiny silver ring in his pelvis presses harder against your clit, and now, not only are you madly in love with Joel Miller, you’re also so fucking addicted that not even a twelve step program could fix you. 

He obeys your wishes, sucking your right nipple into his warm mouth roughly and swirling his tongue as your hips grind back and forth once, twice, three times. He moans against your skin, moving his hands up your body to cup both your breasts. “Harder, please Joel, harder.”

Your movements become less fluid; your clit aches with every brush against his piercing. The muscles behind your navel start to feel like they’re going to snap. He moves to the other nipple, meeting it with his teeth, but it’s still not enough.

“Harder,” you beg.

“Do you need clamps, baby?” Of course this man would know what you need; he’s never not known what you need. 

“Yes, god yes. I need more.”

“Can you reach the top drawer of the nightstand?” You nod, then push his sweaty curls away from his forehead. He raises an eyebrow and you reach into the drawer, pulling out a small set of gold nipple clamps. “Good girl. Now, can you reach my hat at the end of the bed?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop your smile and nod excitedly. He winks and you turn your upper body the other way and stretch to reach his hat. As soon as you place it on his head you feel the sharp pressure of the clamp on your left nipple. The pain heightens the feeling of him inside of you and a high pitched whine leaves your throat. 

“Fuck, please, Joel. Please.”

As he places the second clamp he says, “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?” 

A mix between a whimper and a whine passes your lips in response and your lashes flutter shut. “That’s what I thought. Just as long as I keep myself deep in this tight little pussy, you’ll be happy. Won’t you?”

The second clamp evens out the pain and sends a wave of adrenaline through your system. You pick up the speed of your hips. His piercing bumps against your clit, the pleasure coursing through your veins mixed with the burning pinch on your nipples is almost all the ingredients you need to fall over the edge. 

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Wish you could see how good you look right now.” Joel moves his hands back to your ass, pulling you forward in time with the pace you’ve set. 

“I love - Joel, oh my god.” You want to tell him how much you love the feeling of him inside of you, how much you love the words he says and the praise he gives, but you aren’t capable of forming sentences with the way his piercing teases at your clit. All you can do is let your forehead fall to his shoulder, your eyes squeezing tighter. 

“Love what, huh?” He whispers deeply into your ear. “The feeling of my bare cock so deep inside of you that you can feel it in your stomach? Or the way my piercing feels against your swollen clit? Or maybe you love the pain of the clamps on your nipples as you ride me? Huh? Is that what you love, baby?” You make a gasping whining sound of agreement.

“Look at me,” he adds. It takes all of your strength to sit back up and open your eyes. When he comes into focus you’re overcome with desire. He’s so much more than you could ever imagine in his new black cowboy hat, pupils blown wide with passion, and cheeks flushed a light pink. “Good girl, keep your eyes on me. I want to see it in your eyes when you come on my cock.”

 Your hips slow, but you push your clit harder against his pelvis, and you blurt the first thought you have. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel.”

A smile tug of his cheek reveals the boyish dimple you love so much. You slide your hands from his shoulders to the short hair at the nape of his neck. You’re close, so very close. “Come with me, I’m so close,” you whimper.

“I know, Freckles. Fuck, I can feel it.” He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, but the flex of his jaw tells you he’s holding back for you. “Squeezin’ me so tight. Fuck, can feel her fluttering, listen to how wet you are.” 

You reach back and grab his wrist, squeezing it gently, “Spank me.”

“Christ, sweet girl.” 

You release his wrist, and without looking away he spanks you hard and you are launched into your orgasm. His face lights up with admiration as you chant a mixture of his name and ‘oh god’. You grind frantically into his piercing, your clit practically vibrating at the attention. 

“That’s it baby. Good, fuck, I’m gonna, good girl. Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” He slaps your ass again and that same familiar pooling of liquid starts to build. 

“More,” you cry and he spanks you again. 

You feel the gush of your cum, and Joel takes over as you’re consumed by pleasure. His strong hands grip your hips, moving you at a slower pace. “There she goes, such a messy little pussy.”

You peel your eyes away from him, looking down at the way his piercing presses against your clit when your bodies meet. “Fill me,” you moan.

“Fuck - oh fuck, sweet girl.” Your orgasm starts to fade and you tug at the hair you can reach.

“Fill me, Joel. I want to feel you leaking out of me for days.” You aren’t sure where this version of yourself has come from. Just weeks ago you wandered around JMKink all wide-eyed and nervous, and now you’re saying words that you never thought you could. 

Joel lets out a mix between a growl and a moan and you feel his cock harden before it jerks inside of you, hot ropes of his cum filling you like you asked. He moans your name, stilling your hips in his hands as his orgasm washes over him. “God, you feel so good.”

The two of you gasp for breath, your head falls back and you close your eyes, trying to slow your heart beat. Joel removes the nipple clamps and you cry out just as he places light kisses along them. “Ouch,” you whimper. 

“I know,” he says, moving to kiss the other one. “Taking them off is the worst part. I’m sorry, sweet girl.”

When he pulls back to look at you again your body goes limp and you fall into his chest, head tucked into the crook of his neck. “Need a minute,” you murmur.

He pulls the blanket from the other side of the bed and wraps it around the two of you. “Good, because I’m not ready to let you go yet.” His lips caress your hairline softly, one hand on your back under the blanket, the other playing with your hair.

I love you.

After a few moments of blissfully content silence you wince at the pinch in your hip. “I gotta get up, I’m sorry.”

He laughs gently into your hair, and pulls back the blanket before helping you slide off his softened cock. You both look at the mess you’ve made on his lap and you let out a mischievous giggle. 

“Don’t even think about it, Freckles. I need nourishment before you take advantage of me again.” He says jokingly.

“Well, I guess this is what I get for fucking around with an old man,” you laugh, flopping down on the bed beside him. 

Joel moves quickly, slipping two thick fingers inside of you easily and you squirm at the feeling. You suck in a huge breath, like you’re about to swim to the bottom of a deep pool. Tears start to burn behind your eyes as overstimulation makes it almost impossible to breathe, nevermind being able to tell him to stop. 

His voice is a gravel filled growl, “That right, little girl? Because from what I can tell, you’re about to beg me to stop, so be careful who you call old.”

Heat flushes your skin, pleasure building, yet when your tired pussy flutters around his strong digits a loud, pained cry fills the room. You’re not willing to admit defeat as you force your lungs to suck in a breath. 

“I’m not.” 

“No?” He pumps his fingers harder against your sensitive g-spot. “Don’t wanna use that safe word?” 

Can’t. Fuck, I might actually die if I come again again. You never imagined yourself debating if you wanted another orgasm. A cold sweat coats your lower back as you arch off the bed, a sob leaving your throat. 

“How’s that feel? Wanna come again?” 

You shake your head and moan in disagreement. 

“You sure? She wants to, I can feel it.” He pumps his fingers forward again. 

“M-mister Miller. No.” As you swallow down the scream that’s inching its way up from your lungs he watches your throat like a starved wolf. 

“Safeword,” he commands. 

“Steg-“ you don’t even say the full word and he’s slipping his fingers out of you with a lewd squelching sound. “Thank you.” 

“Are you okay?” He says softly, his dom mask gone as his eyebrows knit in concern. 

“Yes,” you say with a quiet laugh. “I was close to coming again, but….”

He gives you a thigh lipped smile, “Sore?” 

You nod as he continues, “Food, then shower, then we can come back here,” he says deeply before he slips his two fingers in his mouth, cleaning off the mixture of the two of you. 

I fucking love you, Joel Miller. 

Joel 

The small crack of light in the curtains wakes him. His alarm clock shows 7:18 am; he can’t remember the last time he slept past six am, but he also can’t remember the last time he stayed up until two in the morning. He rolls slowly, careful not to disturb you in the cocoon of blankets you’ve created in the night. The top of your head and one foot is the only thing visible, your slow, quiet breathing filling the room. 

So fucking cute.

He pulls on a pair of black pajama pants and adjusts the curtains to keep the room dark before slipping downstairs. The morning sun reflects off the gold in the marble, basking his kitchen in warm fire light. His eyes glance around the kitchen, a dirty frying pan sits in the sink from the grilled cheese sandwiches he made you both last night, the kitchen stool still pulled out from where you sat. A smile pulls at his cheeks, his cock stirring as he remembers the rest of the evening. 

The two of you ate your sandwiches; all you had on was one of his t-shirts, and he was wearing the pants he’s in now. After you both finished eating, he grunted as he came over to help you off the stool. You made another joke about him being old. Slipping in and out of dom mode is almost too easy around you. Without missing a beat, he made you clean the cum that had leaked out of you off the stool with your tongue, then spanked you until more cum dripped down your legs and onto the floor. He didn’t even have to tell you what to do, all he did was glance at the floor then at you with a raised brow. His sweet girl got down on her hands and knees and cleaned up. He praised you the entire time and then took you upstairs to shower; not that it did much good, because he fucked you from behind the moment the two of you got back into his bed. Joel hasn’t fucked someone back-to-back like that in years, but you have him feeling like he’s in his twenties again. 

He pulls the jar of imported coffee beans from the cupboard and grinds them, reflecting upon how easy it was to just sit with you. As you ate, you both laughed and joked about whatever came to mind. He made fun of you for asking for ketchup to dip your sandwich in, then you poked fun back by eating the sandwich with one pinky up once you realized it wasn’t just processed bread and cheese. 

As he tamps the freshly ground beans into the basket he realizes just how lonely he has been. He’s always been surrounded by people and enjoyed coming home to his quiet solitude of a house, but now? He smiles sadly to himself. This is really going to hurt.

He places the basket in the machine and as it brews he gets your beans in the grinder and then grabs the milk to steam and froth. He adds the milk to his cup and then starts on yours just as he hears a very soft ‘Good Morning’ from behind him. 

He looks over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his middle, placing a kiss on his bare spine. It shoots right to his heart and he holds it there, desperate to keep this love he’s feeling, love he knows is on a timeline. 

“Good morning, sweet girl. Coffee?”

“Mmm, yes please.”

He rubs at your arms around his stomach. “How does bacon and eggs sound?”

The soft warmth of your cheek rests on his back as he steams your milk, your espresso almost done. “You actually use the kitchen?”

“Used it last night, didn’t I?”

“Yea,” you reply, “but I’ve never seen you have actual food in your fridge. Cleaning it is always on your list, but aside from milk there’s never been anything in it.”

“That’s not entirely true,” he says. 

“You’re right, once there was just a single long stemmed red rose.” The rose he got you for your birthday. 

“So you’re saying you don’t want surprise long stemmed roses?”

You gasp dramatically behind him and then wiggle under his arm. He laughs, adjusting his grip on the milk and coffee cup to pour the milk just right, creating a heart on the top of your latte and then holding it in front of you. He watches the little smile that curves your lips. “Thank you, Joel.”

He kisses your forehead before you both part. His eyes trail from your face, down your body that’s draped in one of his black t-shirts brushing the top of your bare thighs. “Breakfast?”

You nod, wrapping both your hands around your coffee cup and inhaling. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Get that cute little ass on one of those stools,” he spins you and pats at your butt gently, a giggle escaping your throat as you wander around the island to sit. 

Joel gathers what he needs for breakfast, and after a few heartbeats you break the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”

He glances over at you, “We’ve been through this. You don’t need to ask permission, just ask.”

“Well, it’s about the hat.”

“Ah,” he says softly, starting one of the gas burners to heat the cast iron pan for the bacon. “You can ask anything you’d like, baby.”

“I just wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction.”

“That’s not a question,” he says jokingly. 

You let out an amused sound that’s part giggle, part snort. “What’s the history behind the black cowboy hat?” 

He clears his throat, moving around the kitchen the entire time he speaks. “I grew up on a small ranch outside of Austin. My grandparents’ ranch. Me and Tommy lived there with our mom. My grandma gave us both our first cowboy hats; mine was a black Stetson with a black satin liner. I wore that hat all the time. It brought me comfort for whatever reason, or maybe it was confidence in those awkward adolescent years. Whatever it was, it sort of became a part of who I was as a teenager. One night, in my senior year, after winning our baseball state championship I went to a party, with my hat on, of course…that’s, umm, that’s where I met her.”

He watches you take a sip of your coffee, eyes soft. “Tiffany, my…my wife. That’s where I met her. My grandpa always said that I’d feel a tug, like a pull behind my belly button, and it did. When I went to talk to her she took my hat and put it on her head and…I just knew. That hat, well, I wore it for her from then on.”

“Where’s the hat now?” You say, looking shyly up at him. 

He turns back the stove, swallowing the dry lump in his throat and flips the bacon before cracking the eggs in the second pan. His voice is low. “When she passed away it just felt right to send the hat with her. I couldn’t let her go alone.” 

The eggs sizzle as he flips them. “How old were you when that happened?” 

“Young,” he says, then looks back over at you. “About twenty three or twenty four.” 

He scoops two eggs and a few pieces of bacon on each plate and then walks around to the stool beside you. “I’m sorry that happened, Joel.” 

He places a light kiss on your forehead, sliding the plate in front of you. “Me too, baby. Thank you.” 

Joel sits on the stool next to yours but that still isn’t close enough for him. He grabs the leg of your stool and pulls you tight to his side. The moment your shoulder makes contact with his arm he feels more at ease. Talking about Tiffany isn’t so painful anymore. 

“So it’s just been you and your daughter since then? You didn’t want to remarry?” He watched the way your lips purse to blow on your fork full of eggs before he answers. 

“I wasn’t opposed to remarrying. Sarah used to try to set me up with her friends' moms when she was kid. But, I never felt that pull like I did with Tiff. I focused all of my time on Sarah and building my construction firm.“

It feels almost too comfortable to talk to you as he continues between bites. “I just kept waiting for that pull again. Then my career took off; I went from building homes to mansions, and then eventually apartment complexes. I didn’t have time to even look for a partner.” 

“Is that when you got into BDSM?” You ask, nibbling on your bacon. 

“Ya, I met Cap…”

“Cap?” You interrupt, looking at him with wide eyes. “Like the sweet man with the grey hair and kind blue eyes who drives me around?” 

“Yes, same Cap. He taught me almost everything about being a Dom.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so soft and kind.” 

“Am I not soft and kind?” He says, placing a hand on his chest. You press a kiss to his cheek and he raises an eyebrow at you. “As I was saying, I met Cap through one of the trades we hired to run cable through a large apartment building. Spent a lot of hours with him and he eventually brought up how being a dom might be a good option for me and wouldn’t risk Sarah getting hurt through a break up.” 

“Sarah is older than me, isn’t she?” You put your fork down and look up at him with concern. 

He nods, “She is. Not by much, but she is. However, I recently learned that I was the campus DILF while she was in university.” 

You snort a laugh beside him. 

“She just wants me to be happy. I don’t know what I did right with that kid. She’s a doctor and just got accepted to a surgery fellowship in New York.” 

As he finishes his last few bites, your soft, warm palm traces up and down his bare back slowly. “I’m sure you were, or are, an amazing dad.” 

He smiles over at you as reality slams into him. You’re younger than his daughter. You’re going to want things that he’s already done and is too old to do again. And quite frankly, he doesn’t want to do it again. Biologically he cannot have any more kids, and he’s not looking to adopt. He’s done that part of his life.  

One of his hands wraps around the back of your neck and his mind races as he lowers his face to yours. He’s sure you’re going to go to Berkeley, which will break his heart, but also means he can keep that pesky little secret he’s been keeping from you hidden. You finding out about that will ruin him.

You

Something shifts in Joel’s eyes before he kisses you, his tongue swiping against your lips, asking to let him in. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, as the urge to show him just how much you need him takes over. You spin your body towards him, kissing him back at the pace he’s set. You could sit like this for hours, your lips fused to his, his tongue flicking sweetly against yours. Your hands roam along the muscle-lined skin of his arms, pressing your lips happily to his without any plans to break the kiss first.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls back, cupping your chin, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “Speaking of university,” he prompts. 

You take a slow deep breath in through your nose, trying to keep your face a neutral mask as all of your thoughts around school and Joel scream in your mind. He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “Come with me.” 

As he leads you towards the stairs to the basement you say, “We should clean up.” 

“Nah,” he starts leading you down the stairs, his voice light, “I have a cleaner coming this week.” 

You jokingly hit his shoulder with a laugh as he walks down the stairs in front of you. The two of you settle into the plush couch. You cozy up into the corner of the sectional, him beside you. He pulls your feet onto his lap and then flips a blanket from the back of the couch over you. 

“It’s gonna be Berkeley, right?” Joel’s voice is excited and curious, not disappointed. For a second you think he might not care in the way you think he does, until your eyes meet his. His eyes tell a whole damn story right now, more honey flecks than onyx shine your direction. They seem sad almost, or longing.  

“Maybe. That was sort of my dream school but I don’t know anymore.” 

His thumbs press into the arches of your feet and after wearing those ridiculous heels last night it feels delicious. “Your phone screen, which, by the way, I’m getting you a new phone. That screen is a hazard, and don’t bother arguing with me. But your Lock Screen is the beach.” 

“I know,” you look down at your hands, picking at the pearly white polish. 

“I want you to follow your dreams, sweet girl.” 

“But that’s the thing, Joel. Becoming a lawyer is the dream. Either way, I will graduate as a lawyer, so…” The words die on your tongue and hang heavy between the two of you.

“Don’t pick based on me.” He says softly. 

You scoff, immediately annoyed by his ego. Is that really what he thinks of you? That some man would come along and change everything you had planned. Didn’t he though? 

You pull your feet from his lap, bending your knees up as if you’re building a wall between the two of you. “I’m not. I’m a grown woman who can, and does, make decisions for herself.” 

“So then what’s the reason for giving up what was always your dream school for a law school here?” 

You feel sick to your stomach. His singing last night, that wasn’t a proclamation of love to you. He was just singing a song that he knows and you almost changed your entire life’s trajectory for him.

No, you remind yourself, these are valid points. Joel or not, it makes sense to stay.  

It doesn’t matter how you justify it to yourself in your mind, the annoyance that anyone would think you’d make a decision this huge for anyone but yourself doesn’t ease. You didn’t even consider your parents when you left for university, so why would he think you’d consider him when you’ve only known him a few weeks? 

You try to keep the edge of frustration out of your voice as you respond. “It’s cheaper, for one. I also have a job that I could do once or twice a week if I stay here. I have a chosen family of friends who support and love me. There’s lots of reasons. And at the end of it all, I come out with a law degree.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, his fingers toying with the hem of the blanket. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to defend yourself or your decisions.” 

“You assumed I’d choose my future based on you.” You say, and it comes out a lot angrier than you intend. You rush an apology, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” his voice stays soft as he moves to rub the top of your foot under the blanket. You let him pull it back onto his lap, shortly followed by the other foot. “You’re making a big decision and I could see you working through your thoughts in the car last night. I just don’t want you to think you have to figure this out on your own. I’m here for you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I was trying to let you know I’m here. I should have worded that differently to begin with.” 

“Sorry,” you murmur, looking back down at your hands. You feel about two feet tall all of a sudden. 

“Hey,” he squeezes at your calves and you look back up at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. C’mere.” 

You slide across the couch and he pulls you close, draping your legs over his and wrapping you in his arms. “I know Berkeley is more expensive, but you’d have more opportunities there, wouldn’t you?” 

You shrug and lean into his touch. “Maybe, but I’d finish top of the class here, I don’t know where I’ll fit there. Plus, my friends. It’s weird, I’ve never been scared to leave somewhere before; not even when I was freshly eighteen and left my parents, but now I am.” 

His strong hands rub along skin, desire beginning to flicker at your core. It’s only further ignited when he speaks again. 

“Those are all very valid reasons and fears, sweet girl. We all feel that way about big change. Your friends will always be there for you, regardless of what state you decide to go to school in. I’ve only known you for a short time, and I can see how much this means to you. They’ve known you a lot longer, I can only imagine how proud of you they must be. You’re an amazing person and an incredibly hard worker. If anyone can do this, it’s you.” 

“I’ll be in debt forever,” you say with a sigh, leaning back so you can see his face. 

“You don’t have to be…”

“No, I’ll accept the phone, albeit begrudgingly, but I will not accept that.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink and a laugh as you roll your eyes.

Joel

The rest of the morning was spent laughing and talking. He asked about your first kiss, your favourite song, what you were most proud of so far. He filed away every single answer. 

As the two of you cleaned up from breakfast he said, “So you never saw yourself having kids?” 

“No. I saw myself fighting for others. I think based on my past that I’d be a great mother, just do the opposite of what my parents did, but that never interested me.” 

His fears from earlier started to ease knowing that you didn’t want kids, and your views on marriage were so mature compared to what he usually heard.

He oiled the cast iron as you spoke. “I just need a partner. Someone who is on my side. I’ve been alone almost my entire life, and I can be happy alone. It’s not the company I need - it’s the support. Someone who can shut the world off. You know?” 

He knew the moment he saw you that he could turn you into the perfect little submissive, his perfect submissive. 

“Sounds like you need a partner who knows how to be a Dom,” he says with a wink, eyes roaming over your body in just that thin black t-shirt he gave you. He sees the switch in your eyes, desire blows your pupils wide, darkening your usually sparkling orbs. “Does my sweet girl need something?” 

He watches your thighs squeeze together as you stand beside him. You hum a yes and nod your head. 

“Are you sore?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller. But I still need it.” 

He leans in closely, tracking the shiver that runs up your body as his lips ghost along the shell of your ear. In a deep whispered command he says, “Give me that shirt, and then go wait upstairs for me.” 

He pulls back and watches as your arms cross in front of your body and grab the hem of the soft cotton shirt. Time slows as you reveal your naked body to him, his heart catching in his throat along with his breath. So utterly perfect. 

“Good girl,” he hums, extending his hand for the shirt. “Upstairs, on your hands and knees at the foot of the bed.” 

He watches you the entire way up the stairs. You only glance over your shoulder once, and he knows the wink he sends you is the reassurance you need. Granted, the little smile and the slight skip in your step afterwards were a dead giveaway that you’re excited for whatever he has planned. 

He waits in the kitchen, forcing himself to keep his eye on the digital clock of the microwave. Three minutes, he tells himself. His dick has other plans, throbbing behind his loose, low hanging pajama pants. Wait three minutes, you weak and pathetic little man. 

He palms himself through the fabric to relieve some of the ache, picturing your ass up in the air on the end of his bed. When the three minutes pass, he practically sprints up the stairs until he reaches his bedroom. He takes a breath to compose himself before stepping over the threshold. Looking to his left, you’re exactly how he wanted you. Knees on the edge of the bed, hands planted on the mattress, eyes glued to the fluffy sheets below you. 

“Remind me, sweet girl,” he fights the smile as you startle at his voice, wide eyes looking over your shoulder. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Did you mark off that you’re interested in exploring aspects of anal sex?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say shyly. 

“Here’s what we are going to do,” he starts to walk towards you, eyes roaming along every inch of you. “Look at the mattress, please.” 

He smiles as you obey, always his good girl. 

“You’re going to stay very still. I am going to tease your beautiful pussy and ass with my tongue and fingers.” He stops right behind you, running his fingertips along the back of your thighs. “I’m going to go slow. I want you to close your eyes and just breathe. Focus on my tongue. Can you do that?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“Good girl. Before we start, grab a pillow and put your chest on the bed. I need you to arch your back for me.” He slips his pajama pants off as you crawl forward to grab the pillow and licks his lips as your ass scoots back down the bed before you get into his desired position. 

“So beautiful,” he coos, kneeling on the small bench at the foot of his bed. “I’m going to start by drawing long lines of my tongue from here,” his finger lightly presses on your clit, he collects your arousal as he runs it up the soft folds of your cunt, stopping when he reaches your asshole, “To here”.

“I’m going to do that a few times, and then start applying more and more pressure. Once you start to shake, and you will start, sweet girl, so please, don’t hold back. But once you start to shake, I’m going to swirl my thumb along that tight little ring of muscle while I eat your pussy.” 

You let out a moan, he hasn’t even touched you yet and he can see you growing wetter. “Think you like the idea of that. Already so wet for me.” 

“What else?” You ask with a moan. 

“I’m going to tease your ass with my tongue and fingers until you let me in. And then fuck you with my fingers, all while continuing to suck on your clit until you come for me. Do I have your consent?” 

He can hear the smile on your face as you say, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“No, no, baby. I want you to say ‘Yes, Mister Miller, you have my consent to play with my ass’.” 

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, he brings his hands to your waist, holding you firmly as his cock rubs against your thighs. “Y-yes, Mister Miller. You have my consent….”

“You can say it, sweet girl. Come on.” 

“To….”

He leans over you, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Good girl, keep going.” 

“To play with my ass.” 

He sinks his teeth into the meat of one of your cheeks and then runs his tongue over the sharp pain before he does exactly as he said he was going to. 

You 

Your whimpers of pleasure fill the room as two of Joel’s thick fingers slide easily into your ass. You have no concept of how long he’s been teasing you. Since he took the lube out, you’ve been nothing but a vibrating ball of pleasure. His tongue flicks your clit with perfect precision, his fingers stretching and caressing you at the same time. 

“I wanna come, Mister Miller,” you whine. 

He pulls his face away from your centre. “That right?” 

“Please. It feels so good.” 

“You know you don’t have to ask, sweet girl. You can come as many times as you want.” 

“Need more,” you manage to gasp as he curls his fingers slightly inside of you. 

“What do you need?” 

“Fuck me - fuck me while you do that with your fingers.” 

“‘Manners!” He growls. 

“Please, Mister Miller,” you half whine, half cry. “I need to come. Please.” 

He slips his fingers from you and you whimper in protest. “I know, sweet girl.” 

He urges you to move forward and then you feel the mattress dip as he kneels behind you. The click of the cap of the lube sounds behind you, the cool liquid hitting your ass. The warm tip of his cock slides from your ass to clit, back and forth, spreading your slick along with the lube. You push back into the soft top of his cock every time it teases your ass. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

“It’s been hours, please, Mister Miller.” 

“That’s a bit dramatic, baby,” he says, focusing his attention on that tight ring of muscle that you’ve never explored before. “It hasn’t even been an hour.“

You push back again, feeling intense pressure. You hiss as the sensation but don’t pull away. “Easy, sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

The slippery tip of his cock slides towards your entrance. He pauses, and then as he finally pushes inside of you, his thumb enters you at the same time. You cry out, “Oh my god.”

The usual pinch of the stretch of him filling you isn’t there this time. You don’t need to adjust to his size, you just need him to fuck you.

“Harder, Mister Miller.” 

He obliges, keeping his thumb firmly inside of you as he slides his hips back and thrusts forward. He repeats this motion, setting a quick pace, his hips slamming against your ass over and over. You bury your face into the pillow and scream; deja vu washes over you. The darkness, the way his cock kisses your g-spot, the heat of his body behind you. This is the recurring dream you used to have about Joel, and it’s so much better in real life. 

“Play with your pretty clit, sweet girl. Wanna feel you.” 

You bring your hand to your clit. You’re so wet that your fingers easily slip along your most sensitive part. You rub fast, tight circles, moaning and somehow arching your back even further. “Atta girl. Make yourself come for me.” 

Your orgasm slams through you and you scream his preferred dom name into the pillow. Your entire body is vibrating, your pussy clenches hard around his cock. You feel him growing harder before he’s calling your name along with praise and then spills inside of you. 

His forehead meets your back, the sweat of his forehead mixing with your own as you both try to catch your breath. Your heart races. I love you. 

Joel

When his alarm goes off Monday morning, it’s the first time in a long time that he’s not looking forward to work. He spent the better part of his weekend with you. The rest of your Saturday was spent in a bubble bath before ordering take out and watching movies. He reluctantly dropped you off at home on Sunday morning in a pair of his sweatpants, a hoodie and wool socks. Even while carrying your dress and heels and doing a proverbial walk of shame, you were undeniably gorgeous. 

Now, he sits in his office, the heat of the afternoon spring sun causing the air conditioner to whirl. In the past few weeks, his feelings towards being in a relationship has mirrored the weather. When he met you in February, he was cold and isolated towards the idea, but now just weeks later as March turns to April, he’s warm and soft towards it, opening up to someone when he didn’t think he ever would. He opens a brown folder, a proposal for a new building that JMConstriction is going to take on. Tommy has already done the real work; at this point, Joel is just the figurehead for the construction side. He grabs his pen, looping a J and an M neatly. 

He places his glass on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he should have read that before signing, if only he could focus on the words. Somehow the letters on the page transformed into you. Smiling as the movie played, laughing as the two of you tried to toss popcorn across the couch and into the other person's mouth. 

He’s all in, for as long as you’ll let him. He woke up Sunday morning to his cock in your mouth. You whispered asking if it was ok and after his hum of approval he watched your lips slide up and down his shaft. Simply put, he is mesmerized by you. He stopped you before he came, pulling you onto your side, your back against his front and slipped inside of you. He made you come three times before he let himself fall over the edge. 

As he held you, you confirmed that you were staying here for law school. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes. For lots of reasons. But yes, I’m happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy. I’m staying here.”

Guilt and excitement swirled in his stomach at your decision. He has to tell you what he did. He should tell you regardless of your decision, but it’s going to be so much harder now. He picks up his phone and texts you. 

Joel: Hi, sweet girl. Before we celebrate at the club on Tuesday, can I take you out for dinner? 

You: I would love that, Mister Miller. But this super rich man has me scheduled to clean his house from 12-4, so what time are you thinking? 

Joel: Get ready at my place, Freckles. We’ll have a drink and then go for dinner, then I’m going to teach you all about the St. Andrew’s Cross.  

He wants you to stay. More than wants, he needs you to stay. The thought of you leaving now makes him feel like his lungs are in a vice grip. Wrong, Joel. That vice grip is actually that thing you did. You know this is going to hurt her, he scolds himself loudly. The imaginary iron fist squeezes tighter and he fights to suck in a full breath. 

He has to tell you. He will tell you. At dinner tomorrow night, he will explain everything from the beginning. You can’t find out any other way or you’ll likely never forgive him. His heart starts to deflate at the thought of not being able to wake up beside you again; seeing you in a cocoon of down-filled sheets, just the top of your head and one foot giving away your identity. 

He stands from his desk and walks towards his office door, clicking the lock and resting his forehead against the wood. He closes his eyes, resting one hand on his chest. I can’t lose her. 

[mountainsandmayhem]

In The Hand of Dante - Oscar Isaac screencaps

(while obviously this is spoilery because it's shots of the movie, I've made a point of not capturing any important scenes/shots that give away what's going on)

More behind the cut:

(it's giving a lot of modernAU!Leto vibessss)

[mountainsandmayhem]

F*ckin’ Forty - Part 3

Young Frankie x Older Reader

Summary: You and Frankie have an at home spa day

T/W: reverse age gap (Frankie is 25, reader is 40). Written in first person. Mentions of oral sex. This is just fluff, so much fluff. Use of pet names (baby, babe)

AN: I don’t even remember how this came to be, but you can probably blame @for-a-longlongtime and @lotusbxtch LOL. This is definitely not proofread or beta read, because it’s not like the internet is forever or anything. Also, for the record, I hate that it’s “older reader” because 40 is not old!! AND I hate that it’s called a “reverse” age gap, just let women live how they want and fuck who they want and be in peace!!! Okay, that’s all. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1600 (she’s just a baby)

Surrounded by bubbles and Frankie, my back pressed to his strong chest, his muscle lined arms around me, big hands running along my wet skin under the bath water. The candles he lit flicker a golden amber glow along the walls. My laptop resting on the toilet, playing the newest episode of Alone.

“He’s going to press the button,” Frankie guesses, his patchy facial hair tickling my ear.

“You think he’s going to tap out every episode and never does,” I say with a laugh.

“Well yeah,” his voice is mischievous, his hands running down my stomach towards my pussy. “If I’m right, then you’ll finally sit on my face.”

“Still strange that you bet something that benefits me,” I hum, my eyes fluttering shut, back arching and hips tipping forwards. It doesn’t matter how many times he gets me off in a weekend, my body is always desperately seeking more, seeking him.

“Baby,” his voice is a rough rasp, “You have no idea how much that benefits me.”

Just as he’s about to reach my clit he pulls back, hugging me tight to his chest, huffing a laugh at the little whine I let out.

“Rude,” I joke.

“What’s rude is that that little fridge on your counter doesn’t have any beer in it.”

Yep, there it is, the 25-year-old.

I reach my arm up out of the water, patting his cheek as I say, “Once again, Frankie baby, that’s a skin care fridge. It’s how I stay young.”

“I found a grey hair the other day, should I get a skin care fridge.” I laugh as he continues, “I guess that’s has nothing to do with grey hair, but at this point I’ll wrinkle before you do.”

I gasp, freeing myself from his arms and spinning to face him. “Let me give you a facial!”

“Really? He hasn’t even tapped out!” He exclaims, voice full of excitement, pupils dilating at the thought.

I slap his bicep, “Not that kind, perv! With my skincare stuff. Come on! It’ll be fun.”

His eyes shrink into distrusting slits, “We have different definitions of fun facials.”

“But think how nice it’ll feel to get pampered a little bit.” I realize he’s not taking the bait so I play dirty. I sit up above the water, my breasts now exposed but tastefully covered in lavender scented bubbles. I push them together with the arms, lean forward, give him big eyes and pout my bottom lip out. “Please, Frankie? Pretty pretty please?”

~~~~~

I sit cross legged on my bed, a pillow on my lap that I pat with one hand. “Okay, babe, lay down.”

Frankie complies, lying on his back with his head on the pillow. I put a stretchy headband that Velcro’s together on each end under his neck, secure it and then pull it back to keep his messy, sex ruffled curls out of his face.

“This pink really brings out your eyes,” I joke.

He does spirit fingers by his face, “Oh my gosh, thank you. But I’m seeing someone, so please stop hitting on me Miss Aesthetician.”

I snort a laugh as I pop the cap of my Micellar Water and grab a reusable cotton pad. I look down into Frankie’s big brown eyes as I bring the cleanser to his forehead. “Well, I’ll keep it professional, but you are at a topless spa where flirting is not only acceptable but expected.”

Yes, being topless was the only way he’d agree to this, silly boy didn’t know his eyes were going to be closed for most of it.

As the cotton pad meets his face he says, “That’s kind of nice,” breaking whatever characters we were playing.

I smile down at him, lowering my voice to whisper. “It’s nicer if you close your eyes and relax, Frankie baby.”

I run the pad down from one temple to his chin, then do the same on the other side. His eyes flutter shut as I run it down the bridge of his nose, wiping each side, followed by his cheeks. We sit in a comfortable silence, just the distant sound of our forgotten episode of Alone coming from my en suite bathroom.

I pick up the toner, placing it on a new reusable pad and dabbing it to his face.

“That’s cold,” he whispers.

“Sorry, means the fridge work though,” I say back, just as softly. Then hold up my small fan to dry his face. The moment the whirl of the battery powered plastic fan sounds Frankie starts to laugh. Deep belly, uncontrollable laughter. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know,” he says through it. “I just pictured myself from your perspective. It’s funny.”

His hands land on his stomach as he laughs, trying to stay still.

“You look sexy, not funny,” I respond. “And you have got to get it together, babe, because the face mask is next.”

He takes a deep breath to stop, but I can see the tug of a smile at his lips. He bursts out laughing again as he says, “I told you, Miss Aesthetician, I’m taken.”

“So am I, but he doesn’t pull off a pink headband the same way you do.” We both laugh as his face dries off. “Okay, seriously, you can’t talk or laugh while this clay mask dries.”

He does an over exaggerated inhale and exhale, then looks up at me and says, “Okay, I’m good.”

“Good. This stuff feels weird, but don’t talk or move your face too much. Once it’s on, we’ll move to the massage part of your treatment while it dries. Then I’ll have to get up to get a hot towel to remove it. Sound good?”

“Everything you say sounds good,” he flirts softly, accompanying it with a wink. I press my lips together to stop the smile.

“Close your eyes, Casanova.”

I pick up the small rubber applicator and clay face mask, screwing off the top and scooping some of the expensive dark grey product out. I dot it gently around his face and then start to spread it out, careful to not get any on his moustache or scruffy beard. He stays quiet, letting me cover his face with the mask.

“Thumbs up if it feels okay,” I whisper. His thumb raises in the air. “Good. It’s going to start feeling really tight as it dries, but stay still or it will crack.” His second thumb raises and I laugh quietly.

Once the face mask is applied evenly I make the biggest mistake of the day, I pluck two freshly cut cucumbers off a small dish in the little skin care fridge that I moved to my nightstand and place them over his eyes. Frankie is instantly overcome with what can only be described as a fit of giggles.

“Francisco, no!” I gasp, but his laughter is so infectious and beautiful that I can’t help but join in, tears rolling from my eyes as we try to contain ourselves. Unfortunately, when one of his cucumbers slides off and gets stuck to his cheek we start all over again. He reaches up to grab the vegetables, but I smack his hands away and take them. “Careful, the mask.”

“Sorry, sorry. Okay, I think I’m good,” he states after we contain ourselves. “I’m ready for the massage part now.”

I use my fingers to put the contents of the mask back as best as possible, wiping them clean on the cotton pads I used earlier. “Close your eyes again, baby.”

I grab some oil, rubbing it in my hands and then bring them to his shoulders, my thumbs digging into his trapezius muscles. He lets out a moan, his head getting heavier in my lap. My hands come to his chest, massaging his pecs. Another mistake because he snorts, then tries not to move his face as he says, “I said I’m taken.”

I shush him, my voice light and flirty as I reply. “And I said I’d keep it professional. Stop being a perv and shut up.”

My hands run along his chest muscles a few more times before rubbing his biceps and then back to his traps. For the first time in a while, I have a “pinch me” moment with Frankie. I am forty, he is twenty-five, and he wants this. Wants me.

I massage at his neck then spend a considerable amount of time swirling along his scalp and temples. He looks so soft and peaceful, his chest rising and falling in a slow, calming, rhythmic motion. I smile down at him, wondering if he’s asleep just as his eyes blink open.

“You’re so handsome, Frankie. Keep your eyes closed, baby. Just relax.” He winks at me again and then closes his eyes, groaning as I tug gently at his hair.

After the mask dries I get him to lift his head so I can slide out from under him and head to the bathroom. I turn on the water, letting it heat up before getting two face cloths wet. As I wring the water out I catch the very end of the episode of Alone, the guy Frankie bet me on pushes his button and I smirk, grabbing the two wet cloths and a dry towel and practically skipping back to the bed.

“This is going to be warm,” I warn quietly then lay the towel around his face, leaving his nose out. I press the towel down, softening the clay and wiping it clean. I use the second towel to remove the rest and then dab his face try.

“Okay, Frankie, you have a choice for this next step.”

His eyes flutter open and he looks up at me. “That so?”

“Yep,” I say, not hiding the smirk plastered across my face. “I can either apply eye cream and moisturizer now, or I can give you that facial you wanted earlier.”

His eyebrows pull together in confusion, but it’s quickly replaced with an excited smile. “He pushed his button?!”

“Yep,” I repeat, accentuating the e and popping the p.

“Fuck yeah! Sit on my face, baby!!”

[mountainsandmayhem]

Goddammit now I wanna know the split on this

REBLOG FOR WIDER SAMPLE POOL PLS

[mountainsandmayhem]

Joey

Trans!Younger!Joel Miller x Male!Amab!Reader

TLOU Masterlist : Main Masterlist

Tag list

Summary: You fingerblast Joel

Warnings: Mentions of transitioning stuff, Joel's body insecurity pre-transition, Joel is a virgin but no virginity loss (YET), daddy kink, squirting, age gap (20 years, Joel is younger)

Not going to be a series in the sense of my usual series with like, a plot and arch. But if you wanna see them in different scenarios, sex or not, (including virginity loss!) between Joey and Cielo (sky in spanish) please send in asks! I'd love to here your thoughts!

Comment if you wanna be tagged going forward :)

Dividers by @i-collect-shiny-stuff

He was tight.

Joel’s cunt was wet, some was him, some was the lube required. Testosterone often caused vaginal dryness, which could be a pain considering it also often caused extreme horniness. Joel got both, sometimes waking you up humping his pillow when you stayed over. That’s how you and him were in this particular scenario.

“Cielo,” He’s heavy breathing now, “please fuck me.” He begs, body squirming as you slide your two middle fingers inside his cunt. You and Joel lay side by side on the bed, your hand stuffed down his plaid drawstring pants, your mouth kissing and licking and sucking on his face, neck and chest. His beard was patchy still, but the T was making progress. 

“Not yet, Joey.” You lick a stripe up his neck and then following his jawline until he shutters. “Wanna make sure you’re ready.”

“Imreadyimreadyimready” Joel wants it so bad, your cock inside him, hormones coursing through his veins, raging and pumping and pulsing down to his cunt, but you wanted to take your time.

Joel was a virgin.

For years, he was uncomfortable in his body, so much he only wore baggy clothes, didn’t go to prom or dances, never went swimming with anyone except Tommy, the only one he trusted with his secret. No one had seen him naked except for you, you who introduced him to the world of sex and pleasure and lust without guilt and embarrassment. 

‘Your body was meant to feel good, Joel’ You told him months ago when this started. ‘God wanted you to feel pleasure, that’s why it feels good to touch.’ 

“Gonna make it special for you.” A kiss to his collarbone. “Gonna take you out, show you off.” A nip to his neck. “Seduce you.”

Joel moans, hips bucking up and you feel his pubic bone on your wrist. Joel was 22, about 20 years younger than you and naive to dating and sex from sheltering himself. 

You wanted to corrupt him, to savor your time teaching him everything you know, every way to defile that body of his… and you want to make sure he loves every second, because that’s what he fucking deserves.

Never stopping the assault on his cunt, you go up from 2 to 4 fingers suddenly, knowing what he can take. Joel about screams in pleasure, and you swear you heard his neighbor bang on the wall to ‘shut the hell up!’ but you didn’t give a shit, not when Joel was sweaty and glassy-eyed, drool glistening down his mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck him, to be the first cock inside his virgin hole, to make his scream and writh and cum so many times he passes out from exhaustion.

Instead, you were content like this. You kiss down the top of his chest, careful to avoid the scars because he didn’t like being reminded they were there, and latch your lips around his nipples. Joel, unlike some who have any sort of work done on their chest, actually ended up more sensitive there, his hands flying to your shoulders to steady himself, scrambling for purchase as he tightened around you. He was about to cum and hard.

“Fuck! God damn!” Nails dug into your skin, and you fingered him faster, returning to kiss his face soothingly.

“Just like that Joey, fucking take it, this pretty little boy cunt is all mine, isn’t it?”

He nodded furiously against your chest. “Yours, yours daddy. Daddy’s cunt.”

You slap his pussy, “That’s right, this cunt belongs to daddy” before sliding back in with ease and picking up the pace.

“Gonna- fuck, daddy I’m gonna cum, its gonna be a lot, oh fuck,” He’s panting, nails drawing blood in little cresant scars, and you sooth him with your voice.

“Shhhh, it’s okay Joey, come for me, but a good boy, let yourself feel good…”

When Joel let go, he gushed all over your hand, feeling him spray out around your fingers. Vaginal dryness where? He’s sopping wet, practically screaming into your chest as the headboard bangs against the wall from his shaking. Joel rides out the bliss humping your drench fingers until slowly he begins breathing again. His body suddenly slumps off of you, gasping for breath but limps utterly spent and relaxed. His eyes are wide.

“Did… did I just squirt?”

You grin over at him. “Fuck yeah you did.” You cup him with the cum-covered hand, sliding a wet thumb into his mouth which he sucks. “I’m so fucking proud of you, shit… your fucking perfect.” Unable to wait anymore, you surge in for a kiss, his mouth opening to invite you in. Between breaths, you can only mutter “Good boy” “My perfect man” until he falls back asleep to your kisses.

Thanks so much loves!!!! I'm only tagging like two people so if anyone wants to be tagged going forward comment below!! An dplease, if you wanna see virginity loss or other ideas SFW cute stuff or NSFW with Joey and Cielo sends asks!

I'd LOVE to see more trans conent if write it!

[mountainsandmayhem]

three scenes that changed my life.

[mountainsandmayhem]

HI! I am am 20 year old straight person. I am going to write a 3 paragraph long essay directed at you, queer people in the fandom, making sure to tell you its actually super homophobic to speculate if Pedro Pascal is gay or bi on tumblr dot com where he will never fucking see it, even though I will speculate about straight relationships all the time.

This will be followed by or proceeded by a post of two gay characters kissing so you can't call me homophobic.

And no I will not be unpacking why a marginalized community has taken some very fucking obvious information he's given and putting together the clear information he is not trying to hide and are happy to see themselves in someone bothers me so fucking much while I claim to be a #alley

[mountainsandmayhem]

The Arrangement - A Harry Castillo Fanfic Masterlist

She’s the lie he hired. He’s the truth she wasn’t ready for.

After a bitter breakup with Lucy, 50-year-old private equity billionaire, Harry Castillo, isn’t looking for love - he just needs someone beautiful, discreet, and uncomplicated to be on his arm for a high-profile week of events in New York. What he gets is you, an escort, 28 years old, with sharp wit, hidden depth, and zero interest in becoming someone’s fantasy girlfriend off the clock.

But Harry makes you an offer you can’t refuse: a week of luxury, five-star hotels, couture fittings, private jets, and a generous paycheck… in exchange for playing the part of his girlfriend at a string of galas, charity balls, and business dinners.

You aren't some downtrodden dreamer. You are funny, clever, and fiercely independent. You're doing this job to stay in control of your own life - not waiting for a saviour. And Harry isn’t trying to fix anyone; in fact, he’s the one who might be broken, and he doesn’t even realise it.

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW themes (slow burn but oh it burns), smut, Escort x billionaire dynamic, Power imbalance (navigated and explored), Age gap (50m / 28f), Post-breakup emotional damage (on his end), Feminine rage + soft power, Men in suits, emotionally repressed, whiskey as a coping mechanism, Mutual pining (yes, even with a contract), Glamour, deception, and dangerous amounts of eye contact, Contractual arrangements that spiral into genuine affection, Rich people problems + broken people pretending they’re not, Soft power games, Sharp banter + late-night vulnerability, Trust issues + protective instincts

Pretty Woman inspired but make it jaded

Chapter One - The Client

Chapter Two - The Gala

Chapter Three - The Penthouse

Chapter Four - The Boutique

Chapter Five - The Dinner