sunflloweredd

[sunflloweredd]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[sunflloweredd]

[sunflloweredd]

I swear I’m trying to act normal but WOOF WOOF WOOF BICEPS 👹

[sunflloweredd]

sitting on miguel o’hara’ face ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

— a/n: i’m ovulating. so.

warnings ﾟ𐦍༘⋆: some vulgar language

“Just sit.”

Miguel loudly sighs as he tugs on your thighs for the nth time, his dick painfully straining against his pants as he watches your wet pussy leak right in front of his face. The cum from the last round dripping down the side of your right leg.

“Miguel,” you whine. Your thighs shake as you weakly try not to fall right onto his mouth.

He tugs again, “Cariño, are you trying to edge me?” He whines out.

You moan, the very thought of him cumming inside his pants just from eating you out causing all coherent thoughts in your brain to rot.

“Come on, mi vida.”

He tugs a little harder and it does the job. You let go of all the resistance in your body and fall straight down onto Miguel’ open, watery, mouth—and you swear you almost pass out at the sensation of his wet, thick, tongue immediately plunging itself deep into your pussy, the squelching noise you hear almost makes you want to cry from the embarrassment.

You close your thighs around Miguel’ head and push yourself down into his mouth, your breath hitching in your throat as the nub of your pussy brushes against his nose.

“Miguel—“ you choke, a moan immediately escaping you when he moves his entire head with a long stroke, his nose rubbing against your clit.

He hums and your hands fly up to the headboard of the bed, and you grip on for dear life.

“Miguel,” you say and it come out as a wispy breath, “Miguel—!”

You arch your back as his lips close around your clit. Your mouth hangs open forming an “o” shape and Miguel’ hands go from your thighs to your ass to keep you on his face and to push you down even more.

The twitching of your body only gets worse when he starts to move you, you’re practically grinding his entire face now.

“Mi—Miguel,” you stutter as his hands start to roam up and down your hips and lower back, “C—close—!”

His hums and mumbles something into your pussy—the vibrations send you to the very edge and you’re right there, ready to go over the edge, ready to suffocate him with the intensity of your orgasm if you haven’t already with your pussy—

But then it stops. His hands travel up to your hips stilling you completely and then he lifts.

If you were embarrassed by how wet you were, that is nothing compared to how embarrassed you are now.

Below you was actually the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. Miguel, wet hair clinging on the sides of his face with your wetness spread all over his face, some even trailing down his neck as most of you was on his lips.

You couldn’t help yourself, you were way too close to the edge and he was way too beautiful for you to keep your composure, so all the prior wetness on his face was now mixed with your very new cum.

With half opened eyes, thanks to your cum, he smirks as he licks his lips.

Fuck, had he shown a fang you probably would’ve came again right then and there.

“S—sorry,” you say in between stutters. Having an orgasm while getting eaten out is one thing, but having one from just looking at him? The embarrassment was too much.

He lets out a deep, low chuckle before moving you away from his face. He fights back a moan as your wet pussy hits his chest.

“I’ll go get a towel for you,” Miguel grips your thighs before you can start moving, wetness leaks from your pussy.

“No need, mi amor,” he looks down at your pussy then back up at your eyes, his own still half lidded, “‘m not planning on wasting any of it.”

[sunflloweredd]

⏦⠀˚⠀♡⠀⠀freaky with nerd!miguel in the bus⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀18+⠀﹚

college field trips are interesting.

a simple field trip for one of your classes. sure, it was nice to go somewhere and be out of your dorm but what you really liked was riding the bus with your cute nerdy boyfriend miguel.

poor thing can barely fit in the seat since they are a bit cramped and the man is literally made of pure muscle and is 6’9. you feel bad for him but try to cheer him up throughout the ride. babble about whatever gossip you have while playing with his big ass hands, tracing your fingers among his calloused palms, knowing it was giving him goosebumps. play with his hair, fingers twirling a soft brown curl. wear his thick black rimmed glasses sometimes and mimic him by acting nerdy, making him roll his eyes from embarrassment. take a few cute selfies, make goofy faces that will forever be saved on your phone and possibly a new lockscreen. cuddle with him, his strong muscular arms wrapped around you as your head lays on his broad chest, relishing your time together.

the field trip was pretty quick honestly. you and miguel are surprised to be the first ones done and to come back. the bus is entirely empty, including the driver. with his hand in yours, you lure miguel to the back of the bus and sit in furthest seat.

“that was so quick. were we too fast?” you ask with furrowed brows, resting your legs in his lap.

“no, people are too slow.” one of his hands caress your calf, sending shivers down your spine. his touch always ignites your body. you can’t help it, his hands are just so… big and veiny.

“or maybe my boyfriend is way too smart and was able to get through everything quick.” you tease by slightly tugging on the collar of his shirt. god, you love him in black.

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes as he feels slight heat in his cheeks. “cállete…” your praising never fails to have an effect on him, sends a shiver down his spine. a pleasant shiver.

a smug smirk graces your lips as your fingers lightly trace his jawline. “mi miguelito… so smart… and strong… qué guapo…”

you can’t help but salivate over your handsome nerdy boyfriend. how fucking sexy he looks in that tight black shirt. the outlines of his muscles are so prominent. so damn tight it’s almost a compression shirt. how the sleeves make his biceps bulge so deliciously that you wanna bite and squeeze them. those fucking gray sweatpants miguel knows you love because you can see the imprint of his dick. the motherfucker knew what he was doing by wearing them today for this field trip. miguel knows it drives you crazy. not to mention a little sneak peek of his happy trail.

yep, you’re ovulating.

the throbbing of your clit and the fucking pool in your panties are evidence. like mentioned before, you can’t help it that your boyfriend is the most handsome man ever. the heat radiating inside you was killing you because all you want is to pounce on him and make him take you right then and there.

miguel, on the other hand, is practically the same. that nickname you call him makes him weak. especially in that sweet, seductive voice that makes his cock twitch shamelessly in his sweats. despite being a fucking giant, he crumbles onto his knees for you.

the throbbing was becoming unbearable and you couldn’t take it anymore. you need him, you need him so fucking bad. so, fuck it. you swiftly straddle yourself in his lap, cup his cheeks, and smash your lips on his. miguel lets out a muffed groan of surprise but ultimately goes under your spell and reciprocates. those calloused hands instinctively grabbing your waist as his lips meet yours in a desperate kiss. hands roaming each other’s bodies. your fingers digging into those soft chocolate locks, earning a heavenly groan from him. you can feel his erection pressed against your clothed pussy and instinctively grind on it, earning another groan.

“w-wait- we shouldn’t-” miguel mutters in between kisses, brows furrowed. “s-someone could walk in.”

“we finished super early.” you kiss his worries away. “besides, people are too slow.” you recite his own words with a smirk.

miguel groans at that. he is worried someone could walk in on you both. the last thing he wants is getting caught for having sex in the back of the bus but seeing how needy you are for him makes him throw all that shit out the window. he can never resist you.

the makeout session grows more intensely hot. both your cores throbbing with want and desperation.

“i need you, miguel…”

his cock twitches at your neediness. “joder…”

you’re the death of him.

luckily and shockingly, miguel carried a condom in his pocket and you yank it out from it. the motherfucker was carrying it this whole time? oh the sneaky little shit. don’t worry, he’s about to lose all his brain cells in a second. miguel tears it open while your hands eagerly wip out his cock from the confinements of his sweats and slip on the condom over his thick length as his hands lifts the hem of your skirt and slide your panties to the side.

a shared moan mingles in the air as you slowly sink down his cock. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always gets you. once you bottom out and have a few moments of adjustment, you start bouncing on him. unable to resist the desperation any longer. ovulation was really bad this time.

a symphony of moans fall from you lips as miguel’s cock pounds into your tight gushing pussy. the bulbous tip repeatedly kissing your cervix so perfectly. you can feel him in your womb. the little bulge in your belly was enough proof. his large hands guide your hips up and down his thick length as you grip onto his bulky shoulders for dear life and tip your head back.

“oh miguel~”

“i know, bebita…” he moans when you clench around him, causing his head to throw back and tighten his grip on your hips.

each clench of your tight pussy and those pretty sounds of yours drive miguel fucking crazy. pounding into that sweet tightness like there’s no tomorrow just hear more of those cute sounds, knowing he is the cause of them. it makes his mind go haywire.

the bus is filled with nasty ass sounds. skin slapping, the gushing of your wet pussy getting pounded by miguel’s cock, your pretty moans and his heavenly groans.

miguel’s cock continues plowing into you as you lean back against the seat behind you. gripping onto the edge and arching your spine, offering your tits to his hungry gaze. letting out a moan when miguel’s hands leave your hips to grope your tits through your top. playing and squeezing the squishy mounds in his calloused palms as he pounds into your tight heat.

“s-so fucking tight.”

“miguel~ ah, ah, right there~” your back aches when his tip hits that sweet spot inside so perfectly.

bringing down one hand from your tit, he places it on your lower abdomen. feeling the tiny bump through your clothes as his cock pumps into you before lightly pressing down on it, earning a gasp from you which makes him chuckle.

“there, bebita?~” a smirk forms on his lips as he moves his hand in small circles, chuckling at the way your body squirms and the cute whines falling from your lips. “so sensitive- fuck-”

his attention returns to your jiggling tits and leans forward to bury his face in your cleavage. instinctively, your fingers dig into those soft brown locks while moaning at the overwhelming pleasure miguel is providing with his cock and mouth. his lips leaving wet kisses on your soft skin before sliding his tongue among the round surface of your breasts. groaning when you tighten your grip on his hair. that familiar warm sensation in your lower abdomen develops and approaches quickly with each thrust of his cock. with a few more pumps and flicks to your clit, you both finally come. you gushing around him and miguel spurting his thick seed into the condom. a little disappointed he didn’t come inside you like you wanted but protection comes first.

with his hands, miguel guides you back to lay on his chest as you both recover from your highs. heavy breathing echoing in the small portion of the bus. his hands gently rubbing up and down your arms as comfort. softly humming at the sensation. after recovering from mind-blowing bus sex, miguel carefully lifts you off his softened cock and removes the used the condom.

“throw it out.”

miguel looks at you with wide confused eyes. “outside? estas loca? people are gonna see it!”

“would you rather let them see it in here?” you arch a brow.

his expression falls flat, grumbling before lowering down the window and tossing the gross ass used rubber outside.

“if people see it, it’s your fault.” he scowls.

you shrug nonchalantly while adjusting his glasses that were about to fall off his handsome face. “oh well.”

thankfully, the rest of the class returns. peter and mj, your closest friends and another couple, join you and miguel in the back sitting in the seat across from you guys. although you and miguel had some recovery time, they notice your still slightly flustered faces.

“you guys okay?” peter asks concerningly.

“yep, just hot from the bright ass sun.” you lie but play it off effortlessly. it was actually hot though.

“oh yeah. literally the worst day to go on a field trip. why the hell would they do that?” peter starts complaining and mj joins in, indulging in their own conversation.

while on the ride back to campus, you and miguel are cuddling in silence until he decides to speak.

“you were ovulating, weren’t you?” he whispers.

you let out a snort. “yep, couldn’t help it, especially with your handsome nerdy ass but i always want you.”

he scoffs, holding you tighter. “loca.”

“honestly, we could’ve made a baby if we didn’t use a condom.”

“oh por dios- can we get our degrees first?”

even though he fucked your brains out, mainly his own, you love making him shy with your unhinged demeanor.

just love your cute nerdy boyfriend.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[sunflloweredd]

Could we get a Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Where they’re married, and they put the kids to bed for the night, it’s been while since they’ve been able to see each other because of work and they end trying to keep quiet since the kids are next door 😼

i literally daydream about this exact scenario 25/8

Pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

Warnings: 18+, very fluffy 'n soft sex, unprotected p in v, a bit of breeding because we all know where i stand on this, missionary, clit slapping like once

Summary: it's been far too long since miguel has gotten to enjoy his pretty little wifey's company

A/N: slowly but surely making our way through reqs from LAST YEAR 😭😭 so sorry this took so long, noni

Word Count: 1.9k

Miguel has developed a strict routine over the past month or so.

Wake up, shower, eat whatever leftovers the wife set out for him, go to work, come home, say hi to the kids and the wife, eat dinner with everyone, watch TV with the kids, put the kids to bed, sleep. When the events of the day were so unpredictable and chaotic, it had always soothed his overworked brain knowing that the bigger picture was simplistic. It was a life as rewarding and ordinary as he could ask for considering his profession.

But over time, the blaring omission from his schedule came to the forefront of his mind, occupying every fleeting moment of free time he came across.

He hadn't fucked the brains out of his sweet sweet wife in too long.

Miguel's hands are on the verge of trembling as he tucks your youngest child snugly into her bed, plump lips pressing a few quick pecks to her forehead, earning giddy giggles and a big smile.

"Night night, mama and papa!" She laughs, patting Miguel on the head. You laugh as you stand in the doorway, which only serves to make Miguel's heart race as he whispers good night to your daughter. He practically sprints out of the flower-decorated, pink adorned room, switching off the light and shutting the door with an urgency you can see right through.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" You prompt, bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth as you fight the urge to grin at the sight of Miguel's dangerously dilated pupils, the smallest, glassy sliver of crimson barely visible in the dimly lit hallway. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, his loose sweats already starting to tent as his burly digits pull you towards him.

Miguel can't help but laugh to himself, his head craning bashfully as his gaze meets yours, a giddy smirk tugging at his plump lips.

"Uh huh. In between your legs." Miguel mumbles, and you both groan and giggle at the cheesy line. But something about how immature Miguel lets himself become when it's just the two of you in the solace of your home is undeniably sweet. You'd also be lying if you tried to deny the growing wet patch in your little cotton panties as his arched nose nuzzles into your hair to hide his embarrassment.

"Well, what's stopping you?" You muse, letting Miguel slowly nudge his aching bulge against your stomach. To think after the years you've spent together, Miguel still acts like a needy, sexually frustrated teenage boy in your embrace would usually make you laugh and tease... but you're in the same boat after being neglected for weeks on end.

Miguel inhales sharply, not wanting to risk being interrupted by the kids and miss yet another opportunity to make you feel good. He's been teetering on the edge of insanity every time he's caught your lingering glances from the kitchen while you finish up dinner. You've put him through hell every time your wandering feet have "accidentally" rubbed over his crotch while you lay on the couch watching Nickelodeon with the kids before bed. And every single night, when you wander into the bedroom from the walk-in wearing the most ethereal, yet slutty little nightgown just to crash immediately when your head hits the pillows... Miguel has had to stop himself from shaking you awake and stuffing you full of him.

But now, finally, as he lets out a small groan of relief, Miguel scoops you up into his burly arms, making quick work of nudging the bedroom door open and kicking it closed behind him. He lets out a chuckle as you squeal in surprise, your laughter muffled against his chest. He slowly lowers you onto the bed, his hands trailing up your thighs before slipping themselves beneath the layers of fabric shielding your sweet little cunt.

You lift your hips to help Miguel slip your shorts and panties off in tandem. The second your body relaxes back into the mattress, Miguel's fingers dance across your folds, finding you already soaking wet and eager. He groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue darts out to trace your bottom lip, nipping gently before diving his tongue back into your mouth. His hand finds its way between your legs once more, two fingers prodding against your clit and circling around the slick bud tantalisingly slow, dragging out a string of muffled moans from the back of your throat.

The feeling of Miguel's rough fingers against your sensitive skin is driving you wild, but it isn't enough. You grip onto his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more contact, needing more of him. You've missed him so much, you want to be smothered by his weight, his scent, his affection. Him.

"Y'missed me that much, angelita? You poor thing." Miguel laughs against your lips, pulling back slightly to look you in your lust-blown eyes. His hips buck against the empty space in his sweatpants as he soaks in the image of you grinding yourself against the pads of his fingers.

Leaning down to kiss along your jaw and neck, Miguel tugs at his pants with his free hand, letting them tumble to the bedroom floor in a tangled heap. Giving your clit a few open-palmed, dragging spanks just to see you mewl, Miguel folds your knees to your chest, thighs squishing against your tits as he rubs the tip of his fat, throbbing, dribbling cock up and down your swollen folds.

Still kissing and nipping at your skin, Miguel leans down to capture your lips again, swallowing your moans and squeals as he prods his tip at your pussy. With each initially small, shallow thrust, Miguel pushes further and further inside, feeding his cock into you inch-by-inch, making you pull away from his plump lips to gasp for breath. He pants against your neck, a small groan escaping him as he revels in the feeling of your walls struggling to stretch around him. It feels so damn good to be buried to the hilt inside of you, to be filled with the warmth only your syrupy sweet pussy can give him.

Miguel pulls away from you just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze dark and intense as he begins to reel his hips back, your slick clinging in shining ropes to the coarse hairs decorating his pelvis. Each gradually harder thrust drives him deeper, and each moan he gets out of you only fuels his need. The way you grip onto his shoulders and arch your back is enough to make his heart race and his breath hitch in his chest. He's completely lost in the feeling of you, the way your walls clench around him with every push and pull, the way your cunt speaks to him as his tip ruts against your gooey centre.

"That's it. G-God. Love you s'much." Miguel huffs, his eyes shutting to let his body memorise every crevice of your own. His grip on your doughy hips is the only thing keeping you grounded as you try to stay quiet, the kids only a few doors down.

But your attempts are less than feeble.

You bury your face into the crook of Miguel's neck, biting at his shoulder to stifle your moans, determined not to make a sound as Miguel rams against the gummy edge of your poor cervix, filling you up completely. But it only serves to make him whimper loudly as his hips stutter, almost finishing right there and then. You gasp at the intensity of Miguel's movements, your back arching off the mattress as he pounds into you with a fiery urgency. Every sharp breath he takes only serves to make your brain foggy as you drag your nails across his back, leaving a trail of stinging red lines in your wake and earning a hearty moan from his lips.

Miguel pants heavily, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure. His eyes are closed tightly, and he can feel the sweat beading on his forehead. He leans down, his breath hot against your neck. He can't hold out much longer, his hips snapping back and forth with a ferocity that has you crying out. The way you cling to him, your body jerking and twitching in perfect sync with his deep thrusts, sends a jolt of electricity straight through him.

"You're so good to me, hermosa. Gonna give you everything you want." Miguel whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek as his hands slide beneath your hips to squeeze your ass, pulling you up towards him with a groan. His cock throbs and jerks inside of you, his balls slapping against your clit in a rhythm that has you seeing stars. It's making you crave his entire being.

"I want... want another baby. Please give me another baby." You manage to squeak out, your words making Miguel's heart swell with love and pride. He nods vigorously, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Pulling away with a gasp, Miguel can feel the coil in his body twisting to a point of carnal need. A need to fuck another gorgeous child into you.

"Of- Of course, mami. As many as you want." Miguel pants, his hand snaking down to your soft stomach, rubbing loving circles into your skin with his thumb as he cranes his head to focus on the faint bulge coming and going from beneath your glistening flesh, a tribute to the way your perfect body has been moulded for his dick and his alone.

Miguel's hips snap forward again, his thick cock burying itself deep inside you with a loud groan of pleasure. Your walls clench around him, milking his shaft as he pulls almost completely out before slamming back in again, his pace increasing with each passing moment. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he loses himself to the love and heat surging from you and filling the bedroom. His breathing grows ragged, his body trembling as he feels that familiar tingle building within him, the pleasure coursing through him becoming unbearable. He pushes himself as deep as he can go, his cock throbbing against your cervix as you whimper into his shoulder. His fingers dig into your soft skin, leaving marks that he'll have to make up for later.

With a guttural groan, Miguel lets himself succumb to your warmth, hips snapping forward with enough force to make you gasp and your body jolt upwards, your walls clenching around him tightly. His body tenses, and he comes undone with hot, sticky spurts that coat your insides, filling you with every ounce of his love for you as he whimpers your name against the shell of your ear. His cum mixes with your own juices as he pulls out, your walls squeezing and milking him one last time before letting him go.

Spent and breathless, Miguel collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he nuzzles his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as you both catch your breath.

"That... that was worth the wait." You murmur with a slight giggle, already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at your eyes.

Miguel hums in quiet acknowledgement, tilting his head to press a meek kiss against the underside of your chin as his body shudders with the aftershocks of his long awaited release.

"The next few months of waiting will be even better, mi esposa."

PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT PLAP PLAP

[sunflloweredd]

minors dni

not really proofread NSFW below

Miguel is quite vanilla in bed. He likes missionary so he can look at you and he can kiss you. He's had his history of casual hookups when he was younger but now that he's older he really prefers to share that kind of intimacy with someone he has feelings for.

He'd much rather have a romp with you in your shared bed. He's not one for PDA but if you've been together for a long time, the familiarity between you that you've established might make him feel comfortable enough to indulge a little. (Sitting you on his desk in front of all his screens at HQ after hours)

Despite being Spider-Man, he still very much has the back and knees of a middle aged man. Maybe if you tease him about not being able to hold you up, he'll fuck you against a wall, but for the most part he's carrying you to bed so you both can be comfortable.

He is gentle in bed. He makes love. His hand placement is usually next to you on the mattress so he can focus on his thrusts and so he doesn't crush you too much with his weight, but if your hand finds his during the act, he'll definitely hold it during.

He's usually quiet and grunts and pants. He groans softly every now and then if he hits a spot that's particularly nice for both of you. He feeds off your energy so if you're loving it and moaning for him and praising him, whispering in his ear, then he'll go off of that and speed up, or slow down, or talk you through it depending on the reaction you're giving him.

He's very attentive, but he's not a mind reader. He needs you to look at him and tell him, bonus points if you show him where it feels good, and when he finds it, he won't stop unless you tell him.

[sunflloweredd]

me next! Me next!

this is fucking etched on my brain

[sunflloweredd]

favorites

Miguel O’Hara 🕷️

my favorite fic writer at the moment

- go read their other stuff they’re my fav for a reason

Beach day

-dad Miguel has my heart

Touch starved

-one of those fics you always go back to

Joel Miller 🕯️

Beach trip

-dads best friend trope is a hit or miss. This is a hit.

Handsy

-kicking my feet and squealing

Show me

-I love old man Joel

Logan Howlett 🪓

Logansdoe

-he’s so- 😛

Fear is truth

-can you tell I like age gaps??

Slow Ride

-old man Logan phew.

[sunflloweredd]

beach trip

dbf!joel miller x virgin!reader

summary: back home for the summer, a getaway to a beach resort takes an unexpected turn when you cross a line with Joel—your dad’s best friend. warnings: age gap, kind of mean joel, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), size kink (?, innocence kink, pet names, fluff at the end. wc: 7.7k

You're back from college just for the summer, and Dad had the great idea to plan a little getaway—a few days at a beach resort. Sun, sand, and overpriced cocktails. It sounded nice. Relaxing, even.

You’d already been home for a few days, not doing much. Helping Dad with a few things for work when he asked, watering the plants out front in the warm afternoon sun, taking long walks just to pass the time. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly exciting either. So when he mentioned the trip, you figured—why not?

That is, until Dad dropped the bomb: he had invited Joel Miller.

Yeah. That Joel Miller. His best friend. The man who has lived across the street for as long as you can remember. The same Joel Miller you've spent years exchanging sarcastic remarks with, toeing the line between playful and downright rude, though neither of you has ever seemed to mind.

He's always been quick with a dry remark, and you've never been one to back down. If he calls you a pain in the ass, you call him old and grumpy. If you roll your eyes at something he says, he just smirks and shakes his head like you're some bratty kid he barely tolerates. It's been the same for years.

But now, thanks to Dad's brilliant idea, you're stuck in a beach resort with him for the next few days. And if the way Joel had looked at you when Dad announced the trip was any indication, he wasn't exactly thrilled about it either.

The sun was beating down, the scent of salt thick in the air as you stretched out on the lounge chair by the pool. The resort was nice, you'd give your dad that much. Fancy as hell, the kind of place that served cocktails in coconuts and had a little island bar just across the pool.

"Want a cocktail, sweetheart?" your dad asked, already pushing himself up from his seat.

"Yeah, something fruity," you replied, lazily adjusting your sunglasses.

He nodded, making his way toward the island bar, leaving you alone—well, almost.

Joel was still there, sitting in the chair beside you, one arm slung over the back, legs stretched out like he owned the damn place. You could feel his eyes on you before you even looked. A slow, deliberate gaze, sweeping over your body in a way that made heat rise up your neck. He didn't even try to be subtle about it.

Your bikini wasn't anything crazy, but that didn't stop his eyes from trailing along the curve of your hips, how the slopes of your breasts pump over the bra, the length of your legs, lingering just a little too long in places he had no business looking.

You huffed out a laugh, tilting your head toward him. "Close your mouth, Miller. You'll let the flies in."

Joel's gaze flicked up to yours, unbothered, amused even. A smirk pulled at his lips as he dragged his tongue along his teeth. "Hell," he muttered, shaking his head. "When did you grow up?"

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the way he said it—low, gruff, like he was realizing it for the first time.

"Go get in the pool, old man," you teased, sinking further into your chair. "Before you get heatstroke."

Joel just chuckled, but you caught the way his gaze dipped again before he looked away, like he wasn't quite done looking yet.

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, warming your skin as you lounged back on the chair, toes buried in the hot sand. The sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, mixed with the distant laughter of resort guests. A few feet ahead, your dad and Joel were waist-deep in the ocean, letting the waves push them around like kids.

You had no interest in joining them. The water looked nice, sure, but you were perfectly content where you were—stretched out, the salty breeze cooling the heat clinging to your skin.

That was, until your dad decided otherwise.

"Come on, sweetheart," he called, waving you over. "The water's perfect!"

"I'm fine," you replied, lifting your sunglasses just enough to glare at him.

But your dad wasn't having it. He waded closer to shore, hands on his hips like he was about to give you a whole speech on making the most of the trip. "Just for a bit," he pushed, eyes glinting with challenge. "Don't tell me you came all the way here just to sunbathe."

You sighed, knowing there was no getting out of it. With a dramatic groan, you stood, stretching just enough to feel Joel's eyes flicker toward you. If he had been watching before, he sure as hell was now.

The moment your feet hit the water, you shivered. It was cooler than you expected, the waves gentle at first—until they weren't.

A swell came up fast, knocking you off balance. You barely had time to react before the water dragged you under, flipping you over itself like a rag doll. You sputtered as you resurfaced, coughing up saltwater while your dad laughed at your misery.

Joel, on the other hand, wasn't laughing—at least, not in the same way. He was watching. Closely. The way the water clung to your skin, the way the wet sand stuck to your thighs, your stomach, the soft curve of your ass before the next wave washed it away.

You felt his stare even before you met his gaze. Dark, unreadable, something flickering in those brown eyes that made your stomach twist.

"Enjoying the show, Miller?" you teased, brushing wet hair from your face.

Joel just smirked, slow and lazy, eyes dragging over you one last time before he glanced away. "Just surprised you didn't drown," he shot back. "Thought I'd have to come save you."

You rolled your eyes, kicking up a splash of water in his direction. "Keep dreaming."

But as you turned away, you could still feel his gaze lingering, heavy and deliberate.

Dinner was nice. The three of you sat at one of the resort's restaurants, the warm glow of candlelight flickering against the polished wood of the table. The food was good, the conversation easy—your dad did most of the talking, as usual.

Joel was quieter than normal, but not in a bad way. He just... watched. Not in a creepy way, not at all, just with that same quiet intensity he always carried. Like he was trying to figure something out, intrigued in a way he wasn't used to. His eyes lingered, scanning your face, the curve of your wrist as you lifted your glass, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear.

You tried not to let it get to you.

After dinner, as the plates were being cleared, your dad leaned back in his chair, giving you a pointed look. "You going out to the bar or anything tonight?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"You should," he said, nodding as if he had just made up your mind for you. "It'd be good for you. Get your mind off all that college stress, let loose a little."

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. "You're not wrong," you admitted. "Maybe I will."

Your dad seemed satisfied with that answer, and soon after, the three of you parted ways for the night.

Back in your room, you hesitated.

The truth was, you weren't exactly the kind of person who let loose easily. You had always been more on the reserved side, quiet, the kind of person who didn't make friends easily. College hadn't changed that. Sure, you had acquaintances, classmates you talked to in passing, but you weren't the type to go out partying every weekend, to dance on tables or laugh too loud in crowded bars.

But tonight... tonight you wanted to try.

You took a deep breath and started getting ready.

A simple dress, short but not vulgar, hugging your body in all the right ways. Nothing too much, nothing over the top—just enough to feel different, to feel good.

The bar was livelier than you expected. Warm lighting, the low hum of conversation mixing with the soft melody of live music playing in the background. Groups of people filled the space, laughing, clinking glasses, bodies swaying near the small dance floor.

You hesitated at the entrance, suddenly hyperaware of how alone you were.

It wasn't like you expected to know anyone, but standing there, watching clusters of friends and couples, you felt out of place. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe you should just turn around, head back to your room, and pretend you never even—

No.

You squared your shoulders and walked toward the bar, slipping onto an empty stool.

The bartender greeted you with an easy smile. "What can I get you?"

"Um," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "A margarita, please."

A few minutes later, a glass was placed in front of you. You thanked him, wrapping your fingers around the cool surface, but when you lifted it to take a sip, you hesitated.

Drinking alone felt... weird.

You glanced around, watching people chatting in groups, leaning into each other with familiarity. No one else seemed to be alone. It made you shrink into yourself a little, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Still, you took a sip.

You were halfway through your drink when someone slid into the empty seat beside you.

"Can I get a whiskey?" the man asked the bartender before turning his attention to you.

You tensed slightly as his gaze swept over you, taking you in. He was tall, dark-haired, dressed in a loose button-up that clung to his frame just enough to suggest he took care of himself.

"You here alone?" he asked, voice smooth, casual.

You hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around your glass. "Yeah."

He nodded, ordering his drink before looking back at you. "First night here?"

You shook your head. "Got here earlier."

His lips quirked in an easy smile. "That so? Well, I'm glad I ran into you."

The conversation flowed easily, helped by the soft buzz of alcohol warming your veins. He asked about you—what you were studying, how long you were back for—and you answered, telling him about college, about coming home for the summer. He listened with genuine interest, nodding along as he sipped his drink. In return, he told you about his job, something business-related, though you were too distracted by the way his voice dipped, the way his fingers toyed with the rim of his glass, to really focus on the details.

At some point, he ordered you another drink. You hesitated, just for a second, but then nodded, letting yourself relax just a little more.

You weren't used to this—being approached, being the center of someone's attention—but it was... nice. Different.

And when he extended a hand, his eyes warm with invitation, you didn't think twice before taking it.

The music was low, sultry, a slow rhythm that thrummed through your chest as he led you to the dance floor. You moved together easily, the alcohol making you lighter, more willing. His hands found your waist, firm but not forceful, pulling you in just a little closer. The heat of his palms burned through the thin fabric of your dress, and you swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how close your bodies were.

You weren't sure how you felt about it.

It wasn't bad. It was just... new. A little overwhelming.

But you didn't pull away.

You let him guide you, let yourself sway with the music, let his hands settle comfortably at your hips.

And then—

A presence. Heavy. Familiar.

Joel.

"Hey, kid."

Joel's voice cut through the music, deep and unmistakable.

You stiffened instantly.

The man holding your waist paused, his grip loosening slightly as both of you turned toward the source of interruption. And there he was—Joel, standing at the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed over his broad chest, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"What the hell are you doing?" you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

His smirk deepened. "Just checkin' in on you. Didn't know this was a kid's space."

Heat rushed to your face.

"I'm not a kid," you snapped, pulling your arms from around your dance partner's shoulders, but Joel wasn't even looking at you anymore.

Instead, his attention had shifted to the man standing beside you, his expression unreadable. The man—whose name you had already forgotten—cleared his throat, glancing between the two of you. "Uh, you know him?"

You opened your mouth, ready to brush it off, but Joel beat you to it.

"Oh, yeah," he said, voice filled with amusement. "She's like my little shadow, been followin' me around since always, annoying me you know, likes actin' all mean, but we all know it's because she craves attention."

Your stomach plummeted.

The man blinked in surprise before—before laughing.

It wasn't cruel, but it didn't matter. The damage was done.

You could feel the humiliation creeping up your spine, burning your skin from the inside out. You took a step back, suddenly desperate for space.

"Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath, turning on your heel.

You didn't bother looking back as you weaved through the crowd, ignoring the way Joel's eyes followed you, ignoring the way your chest felt too tight, ignoring everything except the overwhelming need to get out of there.

The warm night air did little to cool the heat burning under your skin as you pushed through the bar's entrance, stepping outside with quick, angry strides. The music still thumped behind you, muffled by the thick walls, but it didn't drown out the sound of footsteps following close behind.

"Where the hell are you goin'?" Joel's voice was steady, but there was something else there—something unreadable.

You didn't stop.

"Back to my room," you muttered, jaw tight.

"C'mon, don't be dramatic. Just get back inside," he said, voice lighter, like he wasn't taking any of this seriously, like he thought this was just another game you were playing.

That was it.

"Fuck off, Joel."

You turned on him, eyes burning, fists clenched at your sides.

His smirk faltered. "Jesus, alright. No need to throw a tantrum."

You scoffed, shaking your head, turning to leave—but before you could take another step, his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

"Let me go," you said, voice low and sharp, barely restrained.

He didn't.

Instead, he tugged you just enough to make you stumble back toward him. "You pissed 'cause I ruined your little date?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "Are you fucking serious?"

Joel tilted his head, watching you carefully. "Ain't that what this is about?"

Something about the way he said it—so casual, so certain—made something inside you snap.

"No, Joel," you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip. "It's about you humiliating me. It's about you treating me like I'm still some little kid when I'm not, or the things you think about me—that I'm annoying." Your voice cracked on the last word, and you hated it, hated the way he looked at you then. "So congratulations, okay? You got your little joke, you made me look like a fool. Are you happy now?"

Joel's expression shifted, something like regret flickering across his face, but you didn't stick around to let him respond.

You turned and walked away, shoulders squared, swallowing down the lump in your throat before it could turn into something worse.

The room felt too quiet, too empty when you stepped inside. You kicked off your heels, the soft thud of them against the floor the only sound as you crossed to the bed.

This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.

You had spent so much time getting ready, standing in front of the mirror, second-guessing every detail. You'd told yourself you were doing it for you, that you wanted to go out and have fun, to feel good for once—but now, sitting at the edge of the bed, the dress that once made you feel beautiful now felt like a cruel joke.

Joel thought you were annoying. A little shadow that followed him around, desperate for attention.

Was that how everyone saw you?

Is that why you barely had any friends in college? Why it was always so hard to fit in?

The thought stung worse than it should have.

You blinked hard, but it didn't stop the tears from spilling over, slipping down your cheeks as you reached behind yourself, tugging down the zipper of your dress. It pooled at your feet, forgotten as you wiped your face quickly, sniffling as you reached for the oversized T-shirt draped over a chair. It was your dad's—soft and worn, far too big on you, but comforting in a way nothing else was right now.

Pulling it over your head, you made your way to the balcony, arms wrapping around yourself as you stepped into the humid night air. The sound of the waves filled your ears, the scent of salt thick in the breeze. It should have been peaceful. It should have calmed you.

But it didn't.

Because no matter how hard you tried, you could still hear Joel's voice in your head.

A soft knock at the door made you flinch.

Your dad? No, he's probably asleep by now, you know him well.

Another knock.

You turned, padding back inside, wiping at your face one last time before pulling open the door—

Joel.

Your stomach twisted.

He opened his mouth, but before he could get a single word out, you slammed the door in his face.

"Open the door," Joel's voice came from the other side, low and steady.

You pressed your forehead against the cool wood, eyes squeezing shut. "Go away, Joel."

"Come on, kid—"

"Fuck off," you snapped, voice sharp with the lingering sting of humiliation.

A pause. A sigh. Then—"I'm sorry."

You huffed, arms tightening around yourself. "Yeah, well. Great. Now you can leave."

"I need to say it to your face."

You hesitated.

The last thing you wanted was to deal with him right now, but you also knew Joel—knew he wouldn't leave until he got what he wanted.

Jaw tight, you unlocked the door and yanked it open.

He was standing there, hands on his hips, looking... not as smug as usual. That only irritated you more.

"Can I come in?" he asked, gaze flickering over you, taking in the oversized shirt, the bare legs.

"No."

Joel exhaled through his nose—and then walked past you anyway.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, shutting the door behind him.

"I just wanna talk," he said, holding up his hands like he was trying to calm you. "That's it."

You folded your arms over your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't know the damn date was that important to you."

A scoff left your lips before you could stop it. "You're a fucking idiot."

He scoffed back. "I'm trying to apologize. You're upset to me and I get it, I didn't think it was something... so serious, you know? Like you wanted to get laid—"

Joel's words hit you like a slap.

Your body tensed, nails digging into your palms as you glared at him. "Get out."

He blinked, looking genuinely confused by your reaction. "What? Why?"

"Because you're an asshole, that's why."

He exhaled, rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm just saying—it's not a big deal. It happens to everyone. You're young, you're supposed to have fun, I get it, it's normal, it's—"

"Not your problem," you cut him off, voice sharp.

Joel's lips twitched, like he was amused by something.

You clenched your fists. "Change that stupid look on your face and leave."

He tilted his head slightly, studying you, and then—"It's 'cause you're a virgin, isn't it?"

Your entire body went hot.

The words burrowed under your skin, setting your nerves on fire. "That's not your business," you shot back too quickly, too defensively.

His eyes darkened, the amusement flickering with something else. "Huh. All this time in college, and you never—?"

Your throat tightened. "You don't know anything about me."

He chuckled. "That explains a lot."

Your glare sharpened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "Just that... only a virgin acts like this all the time. All bratty and wound up, like you're just beggin' for someone to—"

"Get out." you shouted, shoving at his chest, face burning with embarrassment and fury.

Joel barely stumbled back at your shove, his body solid as a wall. But before you could push him again, before you could do anything else, his hands found your wrists, firm but not rough, and in a swift motion, he guided you backward.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed. You tried to step away, to free yourself, but he only pressed forward, until you had no choice but to sit.

You didn't say anything. He was right, but you feel a little embarrassed about it, you're all grown up and still a virgin.

Joel exhaled, his grip on your wrists loosening, but he didn't step away. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and unreadable. "That guy," he started, voice low, "he wasn't lookin' at you like a person. He was lookin' at you like a piece of meat. And he was touchin' you the same way."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Don't lecture me, Joel. Just accept that you were an asshole and move on."

His jaw clenched, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Fine," he said. "I was an asshole. And I'm sorry." His fingers twitched against your skin, as if debating whether to let go or hold on tighter. "But I wasn't tryin' to ruin your night—I just didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

You exhaled sharply, frustration curling in your stomach. "I'm not some naive little girl, Joel. I can handle myself."

Something flickered in his expression, something you couldn't quite place, but whatever it was made heat rise to your cheeks. "You're not naive?" he murmured, almost like he was testing the words. His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist, sending a shiver down your spine. "Could've fooled me."

Your eyes narrowed, and you tried to jerk your hands away, but he didn't let you. "You're such a—"

His lips crashed against yours before you could finish, swallowing whatever insult was on your tongue. You gasped into his mouth, but he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, his hands finally releasing your wrists only to slide down your arms, gripping your waist. The heat between you both ignited in an instant, like a match striking dry tinder, and before you knew it, you were falling back against the bed, Joel following you down.

His weight pressed against you, solid and warm, his knee slotting between your thighs as his mouth moved hungrily over yours. He kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment—like he had been holding back for far too long and had finally given in. Your fingers found the fabric of his shirt, fisting it as you arched slightly beneath him, breath hitching when his lips trailed down your jaw, your neck.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he muttered against your skin, his voice rough, thick with something you couldn't quite name.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Then maybe you should stop," you murmured back, though your fingers betrayed you, gripping him tighter instead of pushing him away.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His thumb dragged along your lower lip, eyes darting between your mouth and your eyes.

"Don't think I can," he admitted.

"You don't even like me," you mumbled, embarrassed.

Joel's thumb lingered on your lip, his gaze heavy, but the moment your words left your mouth, something in his expression shifted. A flicker of regret, of something deeper, flashed in his eyes.

"That's not true," he murmured, his voice softer now, rough around the edges but sincere. "What I said in the bar—it was bullshit. I don't think you're annoying. I love it when you mess with me, when you push my buttons." He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening against your waist. "I just... I lost it when I saw him touching you. That's all."

Your brows furrowed, something twisting in your chest at his words. "You humiliated me," you said, voice quiet but firm. "For no reason. You hurt my feelings over something stupid."

Joel shut his eyes briefly, exhaling like he was trying to steady himself. When he looked at you again, there was nothing playful left—just raw honesty. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to. It—it was just a damn impulse, alright? You drive me crazy. I haven't stopped thinkin' about you since you came back, and then I saw his hands on you, and I—" He cut himself off, his fingers dragging along the bare skin of your thigh, slow and deliberate.

A shiver ran through you, heat pooling in your stomach. You hated how easily he could pull you back in, how one touch had your breath catching. His palm slid higher, pushing the hem of your dress up just slightly, his calloused fingers warm against your skin.

Your heart pounded. "That's not fair," you whispered.

Joel's lips curved slightly, just a ghost of a smirk, but his eyes stayed dark. "Probably not." His thumb brushed along the sensitive inside of your thigh, watching the way you reacted, the way your lips parted just slightly. "But I'm done pretendin' I don't want you."

His words sent a jolt of heat through you, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He was too close, his breath fanning against your cheek, his fingers still moving—slow, teasing.

"Say somethin'," he murmured, his forehead nearly touching yours now. "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't.

His hand is way too far—far enough to feel you're wearing nothing but panties under the shirt. You licked your lips once he moved his hand to your belly.

"Have you ever been touched, sweet girl?"

You swallowed. "I don't think this is appropriate,"

Joel hummed low in his throat, his hand pressing just a little firmer against your stomach, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin. His lips hovered near your jaw, his breath fanning over your skin as he spoke.

"Why?" he murmured. "'Cause you're a virgin?"

You swallowed hard, gripping at his wrist as if that would stop the way your body responded to him. "Because my dad is your friend," you whispered, your voice unsteady.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, deep and knowing. His nose brushed against the curve of your jaw, his lips barely grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ear. "Mm," he mused, his fingers slipping lower, teasing just above the waistband of your panties. "That ain't stoppin' you."

Your breath hitched.

He tilted his head, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of your neck, then another. His beard scratched against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "You haven't told me to stop," he murmured against your throat, his voice smooth, coaxing.

Your fingers curled against his arm, your pulse hammering in your ears. You should tell him to stop. You should push him away. But you didn't.

His hand lowered to your belly, going down to play with the waistband of your panties, then teasing his finger on your mound, sending shivers all over your body, getting you even more wet.

"Is it okay if I touch you here?"

Even if every part of your brain was telling you that you should stop before this goes further, you nodded like a fool, looking for his mouth again.

His fingers made they way under your panties. He could felt the smooth skin, probably never touched before because... he could feel how wet you were and—

"So you're really a virgin," he said amused, breaking the kiss, your lips still lingered by a string of drool. "Virgins get wet so easily."

You bite your lip. "Is that a problem? Cause if so, you should stop."

Joel chuckled, low and deep, his lips ghosting over yours. "Stop?" he murmured, his hand slipping just a little lower, teasing. "Darlin', I've been fightin' the urge to touch you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Now that I have you like this... I ain't goin' anywhere."

He spreaded your legs, played with your panty til your crotch. "Then why do you make it sound so embarrassing?" you asked sheepishly.

He finally reached your slit, you gasped, you were a bit scared. Are you gonna fuck for the first time with your dad's best friend? Would it hurt? Would it be weird after? A lot is going through your mind, but he cleared all your thoughts.

He pressed his lips against yours as he drawed circles on your clit, he could feel how needy and swollen it was, you must've been aching. You muffled a whimper against his lips, which he found really hot.

Instinctively you grinded your hips, just seeking for more pleasure. Your fingers curled on his hair, clutching it. He loves to feel how you writhe beneath him, his fingers exploring your folds, until they found your hole.

He didn't went rough, he was slow, deliberate, slowly stretching you out with his fingers—thick and strong. You couldn't help to moan, breaking the kiss. It was the first time you get this far with someone, lust runs in your veins.

Joel grins at the sound of your moan, enjoying the way you're falling apart under his touch.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. "Let go. Let me hear you."

He continues to move his fingers, adding a second one to stretch you even further, his movements still slow and deliberate but with a hint of impatience.

"You're so tight for me, babygirl"

"Oh, God," you whimpered.

Joel's fingers are slick with your juices as he moves them in and out of you, his movements growing more urgent with each thrust.

Your skin is so smooth and soft, but you're also so hot and tight. He can feel every muscle in your body clenching around him, trying to pull him in deeper. It's driving him crazy, making him want to take you even more.

He leans down and kisses your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin as he whispers in your ear. "You've been touched like this before?"

You shook your head. "No."

He smirked, he knew it. You were a pain in the ass, you loved getting on his nerves, you loved getting in his head because deep down you wanted him like this.

He stopped working his fingers in you, to get rid of your panties, with no warning, he just threw the garment somewhere in the room, changing positions to toss your calves over his shouders, holding your hips.

Your hand instinctively covered your slit, you were embarrassed, after all, he was someone you knew, someone who is close to your dad, someone who—

"Don't hide from me, angel," he said taking your hands to his lips. "I wanna taste you."

"Joel—" you swallowed. "I'm—"

"You don't need to be shy with me,"

He drew your hands away, just to see how flushed, swollen and needy your pussy was. Glistening in your own juices.

His gaze made you squirm, made you feel all your blood rushing to your cheeks. It wasn't bad—it was the opposite. It was dark and deep, like he was starving and had just laid eyes on a feast laid out before him.

You could feel his breath, his lips barely touching your folds. He wanted to feel every part of you, never thought he would have his best friend's daughter laid in front of him like this, showing all her vulnerability to him.

Joel's tongue darts out to lick his lips, his gaze fixated on your body. He moves his mouth lower, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs, leaving a trail of marks behind.

"Don't be a tease, Joel," you whined.

Joel grins against your skin, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he says, his voice a mixture of amusement and desire.

He moves his mouth to your clit, sucking on it hard as his fingers continue to move inside you, curling and rubbing against your sensitive spot.

It was heaven. The way his tongue swirled on you, the way he knew exactly how to do it, the way his fingers kept working on you, taking you to the edge.

Joel's tongue is like a snake, moving slowly but firmly, tasting every inch of you. He licks and nibbles at your folds, exploring every curve and contour, savoring the taste of your juices. His tongue is slick and warm, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

You were biting your lip, trying to muffle your moans but failing miserably. You were curling your toes, so close to the orgasm.

"Joel, please—" you yelped.

Joel lifts his head for a moment, his lips glistening with your juices. "I know you are, angel," he says, his voice low and rough. "You're close. I can feel it. Just let go, let yourself fall apart for me, babygirl."

He dives back in, this time, he's gonna taste you directly from the source. His tongue plunging into your core, searching for that sweet spot that will push you over the edge.

Joel's tongue continues to move inside you, thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm. He moves his hands to your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you.

"You taste like heaven," he repeats, his voice strained with pleasure.

He flicks his tongue against your clit, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Enough to make you come.

Writhing, your legs shaking because it was too much. You let yourself fall apart, panting, moaning, saying his name.

He pressed his lips on your thighs, then slowly pulled your calves from his shoulders.

You were just recovering, but he just took off his jeans, you were amused, biting your lip, but once you saw his bulge, your gaze changed.

Surprised and... a little scared. It was too big, it will defenitely hurt, also, now that you see that this is going serious, you don't have condoms, but you want to do it.

You sit on your knees to help him getting rid of his shirt and his boxers. You adored his body, you've seen it before, but not like this, so... raw. His cock was dripping precum, it was swollen, his base hairy... you were eager to touch him.

Your gaze was sticked to his cock, the way he held it. "Can I touch it?" you asked sheepishly looking at him through your lashes.

His cock twitched in response. "Yeah, you can touch me,"

You swallowed and the tip of your finger barely touched his tip... it wasn't even entirely when he made you lay back in bed. He couldn't take it, you were almost too innocent, the way your first thought was to touch the tip and not fist him, the way your finger looked so small. He won't last long if you keep doing that.

"That's unfair—" you knitted your brows.

"I'm sorry, angel. You will touch me tomorrow, but right now I need to fuck you."

Your cheeks burned and your knees were still together. He laid his hands on them but you talked before he could spread them.

"Joel, I don't have any condoms,"

He chuckled. "Me neither,"

"What should we do?" your face almost screamed panic, it was really sweet and also, of course you had a point, but his mind only worked for pleasure right now.

"You want us to stop?" you shook your head. "Okay, then trust me, I'll pull out on time,"

"But it's still risky—"

"Jesus," he finally spreaded you open. "I ain't gonna hurt you, I promise,"

You nodded, trusting blindly in him.. because right now, you could only think about your own pleasure too.

He teased his tip all over your slit, mixing your juices, rubbing his cock against your slit, feeling how small it felt. He didn't want to hurt you, he knew you'd feel fucking good to fuck.

"Take your shirt off," he growled.

You didn't need to be told twice, you tugged the piece of fabric over your head, revealing your bare breasts to him. He had imagined them before, how your nipples would be, back in the pool, in the beach, they were covered just by a rectangle but they were hiding so much.

He went inside slowly. Your hands grasped to his arms, whining and made a face of pain. He knew it would hurt but he knows you'll feel good in a couple of seconds.

Once he was finally inside, he didn't move for a couple of seconds—you felt them like an eternity. You were choking him, you were warm, soft... tight, it was too much.

"Please—" you whimpered.

He locked his gaze on yours and thrusted. It hurt, and it kept hurting until it didn't, until all the pain was replaced with pleasure and lust.

He was being as gentle as possible. You wrapped his torso, sticking him even closer to you.

His weight all over you but you could only plea for more. Your walls throbbed and so did his cock. It felt good. Joel was making you squirm, losing your mind over him.

Moaning, clawing your nails on his back, he's sure you're gonna leave marks, scratches, but he couldn't care less.

"You're taking it so good," he groaned.

You hummed something incoherent in response, couldn't even mouth a word.

"So tight," his head found its way to the crook of your neck. "Such a good girl,"

He nudged your g-spot, thrusting and nibbling your neck, leaving little marks, feeling your intoxicating scent.

The way you moaned his name, softly and needy, made him lost his mind.

You whined. "Joel, don't—" your eyes roll involuntarily. "I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, that's it, come for me," he cooed on your ear.

And you needed less. You followed his order, losing yourself, reaching your second orgasm. Your walls choked him, he never felt anything tighter before. You were milking him... and he would've shot his load inside you, God knows he would've.

But he couldn't take the risk. He pulled out with a loud pop sound of juices.

He jerked off until his cum was costing your slit. It was so much he felt like a teen.

Your body was still trembling, weak from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn't regret a thing. Every nerve felt alive, sensitive to even the faintest touch of the sheets beneath you.

Joel stood up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment. A moment later, he returned, a warm cloth in hand.

He was gentle as he cleaned you, careful, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary. You appreciated that—the quiet care in his actions, the way he wasn't rushing to leave.

You expected him to grab his things and go, to put some distance between you now that it was over. But to your surprise, Joel didn't move toward the door. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, then slipped under the covers beside you, his warmth seeping into your skin as he pulled the blanket over both of you.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze in the dim light. "I really enjoyed it," you admitted, your voice soft, a little shy.

Joel let out a low hum, his hand finding your waist beneath the sheets. "Me too," he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. "More than you think."

His words settled deep inside you, warm and reassuring. You let yourself relax, curling into his side, and when he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, you leaned into the touch.

For the first time that night, you didn't overthink. You just let yourself be held.

Joel let out a slow breath, his fingers still tracing idle circles against your waist. You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice quieter now, softer.

"I'm sorry," you murmured.

His brows furrowed. "For what?"

You swallowed, fingers playing with the edge of the sheet. "For being... I don't know, a little much sometimes. I know I can be stubborn, or—" you let out a small, nervous laugh—"annoying, like you said."

Joel shook his head immediately. "Don’t say that," he muttered, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "Drives me crazy when you push my buttons, yeah, but that don’t mean I don’t like it." His voice dipped lower, rougher. "I like it too damn much."

You blinked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

He exhaled, his thumb running along your ribs. "I’m sorry for makin’ you feel like you were a bother. You never were. Never will be."

A comfortable silence settled between you, warm and easy, interrupted only by the rhythmic crash of the waves outside. You traced lazy patterns over his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart before finally speaking again.

"So..." you hesitated, biting your lip. "Are we gonna do it again?"

Joel huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Sweetheart," he said, amused, "you damn near killed me. Need a minute before you wear me out completely."

You laughed, lightly smacking his arm, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as he pulled you closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

"Not now. I know old men usually take—"

He laughed, hard, delighted. "Old man? This old man just made you have two orgasms in a row."

You rolled your eyes, but still could feel your cheeks warm. "I was talking about doing it tomorrow? Maybe? I mean, I would like to get better, learn new things,"

Joel smirked, shifting onto his side so he could look at you properly. His fingers brushed over your hip, lazy and warm. "Oh, now look at you," he murmured, voice dipping into something teasing. "All shy all of a sudden."

Your face burned. "I’m not shy," you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Mm-hmm." His thumb traced slow circles against your skin. "So let me get this straight—you’re askin’ me to teach you a few things?"

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, low and knowing. You swallowed hard, lips parting, but the words seemed to stick in your throat.

Joel grinned, leaning in just enough that his lips brushed your ear. "That’s real cute, sweetheart," he murmured. "But you gotta use your words."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Forget I said anything."

His chuckle rumbled against your skin as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss just below your ear. "Oh, no. I heard you loud and clear," he mused, his breath warm against your skin. "And don’t you worry—I’ll make sure you learn real good."

You sighed, utterly spent, and rolled onto your stomach, your body sinking into the mattress. The exhaustion tugged at you almost instantly, a deep, pleasant heaviness settling into your limbs. Your eyes fluttered shut, the thought drifted lazily through your mind—maybe tomorrow, you could sneak into his room. The idea made your lips curve slightly before sleep pulled you under and within moments, your breathing evened out, soft and steady.

Joel propped himself up on one elbow, watching you. His fingers ghosted over the curve of your back, barely touching, just tracing the shape of you beneath the sheets. The room was quiet, save for the distant sound of waves crashing outside, but inside his head—inside his chest—everything was loud.

He should feel guilty. Hell, maybe he did, a little. Not because he regretted it—because he didn’t. Not even for a second. But because it was you. His best friend's daughter. And not only had he slept with you, but he'd been your first. That should’ve weighed on him more, should’ve made him hesitate, should’ve made him pull away before any of this happened.

But looking at you now—peaceful, lips slightly parted as you breathed, hair splayed out over the pillow—any guilt that tried to surface didn’t stand a chance.

Because you were beautiful. And, God knows, you drove him crazy.

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling quietly.

He was in trouble. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the resort’s dining area, casting a warm glow over the table set with fresh fruit, toast, and steaming cups of coffee. The soft hum of conversation filled the space, blending with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.

You sat across from Joel, the cool tile of the floor smooth beneath your bare foot as you stretched out, pressing lightly against his leg beneath the table. A small, teasing touch.

Joel didn’t react at first. Just sipped his coffee, gaze flicking up to meet yours over the rim of his cup. But when you dragged your foot higher, brushing along his calf, the muscle in his jaw ticked.

Your lips curled slightly, feigning innocence as you reached for a piece of fruit, taking a slow bite.

"You’re in a good mood this morning," your dad commented, flipping through the resort’s activity pamphlet. "Had fun last night?"

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around your fork.

Joel cleared his throat, setting his mug down a little too carefully.

You forced yourself to nod, hoping the heat in your face wasn’t too obvious. "Yeah," you said, voice just a little too high. "I had a really good time."

Joel let out the smallest chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for the butter.

"Glad to hear it," your dad said, turning a page. "This trip’s all about relaxing. You deserve to enjoy yourself, sweetheart."

You nodded, glancing at Joel, at the way he was watching you now—something dark, something knowing.

"And," your dad added, stretching back in his chair. "Summer’s just getting started."

Your stomach fluttered. If only dad knew...

Yeah. Summer had just begun.

[sunflloweredd]

handsy

joel miller x female reader

summary: joel is hopelessly touch starved and you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself.

content: nsfw, 18+, age gap, cursing, mutual pining, mentions of male masturbation, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, good girl, breeding kink [if you squint]

author's note: hey guys, long story short i’m rewatching tlou and i needed to write some joel miller smut. i mean, aren't we all horny for that old man?

—

To put it quite plainly, Joel was touch starved. 

It had been a long time since he’d felt the hands of a woman on his body. Of course, given the current state of the world, he didn’t have much time to think about it.

But then he was all settled down in Jackson and his days were filled with mundane jobs, casual conversations, cozy living conditions, and you. 

You lived in the little house across the street from him and although your relationship began with awkward smiles and shy waves, Joel found himself getting closer to you over time. 

Now he was lingering on your front porch after you offered him coffee in the mornings and walking you into town when he had absolutely no business there, all to spend a little extra time with you.

From the beginning Joel somehow found himself not entirely annoyed by your persistence in breaking down his walls, and instead indulged in your constant questions and continuous attempts at bad jokes. Maybe it was because he felt bad ignoring your endless efforts to strike up friendly conversation; or perhaps he enjoyed your company because he was lonely, and you were an undeniably gorgeous young woman seeking out his attention. Even he was confused as to why someone like you would be putting so much energy into getting to know him. You were probably lonely too, Joel convinced himself that your friendly advances must’ve come from a place of hunger for basic human interaction. 

He would’ve had no issue fulfilling your need for friendship and community if it weren’t for how handsy you were. Of course, Joel knew your touch was never sexual. It always came from a place of innocence, just a welcoming nudge on the shoulder or a casual hand grazing his bicep. You were just someone who showed your appreciation through simple acts of physical touch, but to Joel those little gestures might as well have been you dropping to your knees in front of him. 

In fact, those thoughtless touches frequently made their way into Joel’s mind late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

He would think about the way your hands felt on his body; how soft and gentle they were. He would think about the way they brushed against his arms or his back, imagining what they’d feel like on his bare skin. He would fight against his own morality as his hand slipped into his pants touching himself at the thought of you. His fingers wrapping around his dick, holding back moans as he pictured it was your tender grip on him instead. 

He was disgusting

That’s what he told himself now, standing in your kitchen with your delicate little hand caressing his forearm as you laughed about something he said that most certainly wasn’t that funny.

You had convinced him to come over for dinner, and who was he to deny a warm meal? But now you were inches away from him at the kitchen sink after you had argued over who would do the dishes. Both of you working together to wash up, and Joel couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the warmth of your body and how soft it felt against his. 

It was all so domestic. You washing the plates then handing them over to him so he could dry and put them away. You were talking and laughing with full bellies and smiles on your faces. It was impossible not to soak in the simplicities of moments like this. And it was definitely impossible to ignore the way his skin was burning under your touch.

You knew you had a way of getting in other people’s personal space; touching others as you spoke to them. It was something you had always done, extending a hand in an effort to show you were listening or engaged. It was just a way of showing your appreciation and attention. Only, it was more than that when it came to Joel. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic, which was a real shame because you desperately wanted to touch him in more inappropriate ways.

You knew it was bad to think about him like that. He was a friend, yet you were constantly picturing what it would feel like to kiss him– to have your hands on him.

In an effort to fulfill these little fantasies, you were always finding ways to touch Joel. Obviously, it was only ever friendly, just softly grabbing his arm when you needed his attention or leaning your body into his when you walked side by side; such small moments of feeling the weight of his body beneath your hands, but it only ever made your secret obsession with him more intense. 

Like right now, your fingers were curling into his forearm as you laughed and you knew you needed to pull your hand away before you trailed it all the way up his arm tracing every inch of muscle as you went. Joel was just so big, and strong, and rough– it drove you fucking insane. You had never felt like this before, so pent up with sexual frustration for someone. It was almost embarrassing how badly you wanted Joel to bend you over the kitchen counter and have his way with you. 

You were ready to loosen your grip on his arm and pull away when you felt something coarse underneath your fingertips.

A scar. One of the many that littered his body.

You had noticed them before, but you had never felt them. Joel was wearing a short-sleeve shirt tonight, something he rarely did. He was always clad in long sleeves or jackets, which made you realize this was the first time you had ever touched the bare skin of his arm. 

Your hand lingered on his forearm and your eyes were fixed on the scar underneath your fingers, and Joel just watched. He watched the way you stared as you felt his skin. And then you were moving your fingertips against him, tracing the mark there, and he had to keep himself from shuddering under your touch.

“There are so many.” Your voice was hushed as you studied him, looking at the scars painted all over his skin.

“Yeah well…” He was trailing off with each stroke of your finger against him, losing his train of thought.

“I’m sorry.” 

The simple apology was all you said, but when your eyes met his, he could see the sympathy swimming in your gaze. You understood. That was one thing Joel appreciated about you more than anything– you understood each other. You respected his boundaries, never pushing him on the things he wasn’t willing to talk about.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” 

His smile was back, so gentle and kind as he looked down at you.

“Can I have my arm back now?” His voice was playful, and you realized you were still holding onto his forearm.

“Oh god, sorry.”

You let go abruptly.

“Sorry, I’m not the best at keeping my hands to myself.” You were joking about your bad habit of touching others too much. 

“I’ve noticed.”

Joel was going back to work, drying a dish and putting it away in an overhead cabinet, avoiding your stare. 

“Oh shit Joel. Sorry does it bother you? I’ll be more mindful from now on.” 

Oh, you were humiliated. All this time Joel was annoyed by your friendly affection and you were just constantly touching him.

“No. no, doesn’t bother me. Just-“ He was speaking as he continued doing dishes, still avoiding eye contact with you.

“Just what?” You were prying, but you didn’t care. That’s how things often went with you and Joel– you asking too many questions and him putting up with it. 

“Nothin’. Just doesn’t bother me that’s all. Don’t worry about it.” 

He was sidestepping the conversation entirely now. But if it didn’t bother him, then what? 

“Joel c’mon what were you gonna say?” 

You were reaching for him again, this time grabbing his bicep. The feeling of his thick, muscular arm in your grasp nearly had your breath hitching in your throat. 

He stopped what he was doing, giving in to your touch and turning to face you completely. His eyes were peering down on you, his expression unreadable. 

“Just distracting. That’s what I was gonna say. Distracting.” He was just staring as he spoke, his voice stoic.

Distracting? Joel was distracted by your touch? 

“But not… in a bad way?” You had to clarify before your mind started going down a rabbit trail.

“No. Not in a bad way.” 

You felt a fluttering sensation fill your chest at his confession.

Was Joel saying he liked when you touched him? That he liked it so much it made him lose focus? There was sudden surge of confidence bursting through you as you ran your hand further up his arm. You found the hem of his sleeve, toying with it between your fingertips.

“How do I distract you?”

Doing your best to make your voice sound innocent you stared at the material of his shirt in your hands, too nervous to actually look him in the eyes. 

“Just don’t know how you’re always so kind and sweet. Your hands are so gentle.” He was speaking quietly.

You allowed your eyes to find his after he complimented you, but you wished you hadn’t.

His gaze was fixed on you, searching your face in a desperate attempt to read the situation. You were inches away from each other, your bodies nearly pressed against one another with your hand still on his arm. 

“Do you think about me in a way friends shouldn’t think about each other?”

The question was trickling from your lips and into the silent room. You were testing the waters, dipping a toe in the potential pool of shared desire. 

“Because I do. I think about you all of the time.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at Joel. 

“What it’d be like to kiss you, to feel your hands all over my body.”

You let your touch travel up to his shoulder and over to explore the broad expanse of his clothed chest underneath your fingertips. 

“We shouldn’t.” His words were hesitant but his body didn’t move in the slightest.  

“Why not?”

Joel could think of a million reasons why not. Starting with you being half his age and ending with the fact that sex could ruin the perfectly good relationship that had taken months to form between you.

But as he looked down at you, your lips all pouted and your eyes full of hope, he threw all caution to the wind.

Fuck it.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your face, bringing his head down and crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was hungry and rushed but still somehow tender. Your mind was reeling at the taste of his mouth against yours. Your hands found solace at the nape of his neck, arms slinging up to rest on his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

Your kitchen suddenly felt so hot as the sweltering tension between you and Joel had finally reached it’s peak. 

“Fuck sweetheart if you only knew half the things I thought about you.” His voice was breathless as he broke your kiss.

Joel’s mouth trailed down your jaw placing impatient kisses on your skin. 

“Tell me.” You were practically begging as you moaned at the feeling of his warm lips on your neck.

“Think about those sweet little hands of yours on me.” 

He was nipping and sucking behind your ear. You weren’t sure if it was the way his mouth was caressing your skin or the words he was speaking between kisses, but it had a whine slipping from your lips. 

“Where Joel?” The words were a whimper coming deep within your throat as he continued his assault on your neck. 

“Jesus Christ sweetheart you’re gonna kill me.” He was muttering into the curve of your shoulder and the hum of his words against you had you losing your mind. 

“Do you think about them here?” Gaining just an ounce of composure, your voice was calm and collected as you slid your hands down his torso. 

You were careful to feel every little detail of his body as you let your touch wander lower. The tense muscles of his abdomen were hard to ignore as your hands found the button of his jeans. 

“All the time sweetheart.” He was admitting to his dirty thoughts. Bringing his hands to thread through your hair and pulling your gaze to meet his so you could see the seriousness in his eyes as he spoke. 

“Think about how soft they’d feel wrapped around me.”

Oh. It was prevalent now more than ever that Joel had entered an entirely new headspace. The way he was talking to you, the way he was looking at you; It was all fueled by complete and utter sexual desire, and you couldn’t get enough. You wanted to hear more filthy words come out of his mouth, you needed it. 

“Joel..” You were all but moaning out as you unzipped his pants, eager to get your hands on him.

He was pulling you in for another hungry kiss as you shoved his jeans down just enough to get your hands into the waistband of his underwear. Here you were in the middle of your kitchen with your hands down Joel’s pants– something you didn’t foresee happening when you invited him over earlier that day. But the two of you were so fucking pathetic and needy, having finally given into your feelings for one another. There was no time to waste, you needed to feel every single inch of him right here next to your kitchen sink.

The groan that left his lips when you finally had his cock enveloped in your gentle touch was enough to send a rush through your entire body. You pumped him up and down making sure to maintain a slow pace to purposefully draw another sinful noise from his mouth.

Just as you thought, your mild movements had the man in front of you sighing out in pleasure. It was a sigh of true relief; you wondered about the last time Joel had been with someone like this. The thought spurred you on, making your hand move faster from the excitement of being the first person in a long time to make him feel this way.

Joel’s jaw tensed and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head when your eyes flickered down to his dick. You were watching your own hand as it worked to bring him closer to completion. He wasn’t accustomed to this– having a pretty young thing handling him like this. There was no way he was gonna last long, not with your delicate hands sliding on his cock and your innocent gaze peering down between your bodies. 

In seconds his hand was on your wrist halting your movements. 

“Joel-“

You were ready to protest but your words were caught in your throat as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. His lips were back on yours in a messy kiss while his hands fumbled with your jeans, practically ripping them from your body. 

“Need to feel ya darlin’.” He was panting out against you when his hand came in contact with your core, the thin material of your panties stopping him from touching your bare center. 

You didn’t have to feel them to know how wet your panties were. They were drenched the second your hand was on Joel’s arm earlier. All you had to do was think about the man and a pool of arousal would appear between your legs.

“Fuck you’re soaked.”

The words were laced with pride as he felt the ruined cloth with his fingertips. You wanted to moan at the feeling of his hand putting even the tiniest bit of pressure against that needy spot between your legs. You wanted some sort of relief– needed to feel him touch you.

As if he could read your mind, Joel was pushing your panties to the side and gliding a finger over the wetness pooling at your opening.

“If I knew you were this needy for me, would have done this a long time ago.”

As the words left his lips he was slipping a single finger into you at an agonizing pace. Slowly moving it in and out while you gripped at his arms for some sort of stability.

Fuck– even just the one finger moving in and out of you insanely slow was enough to have you seeing stars. So when he added a second you nearly dug your nails into Joel’s arm hard enough to leave marks.

His fingers were working into you, each stroke more mind numbing than the last. He was pushing and curling them and the little noises leaving your mouth were absolutely pathetic.

“Your little whimpers are so pretty baby.” 

Baby. All these endearing pet names he was calling you had you falling apart. You were preening underneath Joel’s touch and every time he called you sweetheart, or darlin, or baby, you were further subdued into a state of surrender for him. 

“So pretty’n sweet just for me.” He was mumbling with his fingers knuckles deep inside you.

You could feel the pressure building in your core with each deliberate movement of his fingers. Your gaze found his and the look of need consuming him pushed you closer to the edge. Your eyes were locked on one another, your forehead pressed against his as you gripped his arms tighter. 

“C’mon sweet girl, let me hear it.” Joel’s words were a low growl as he coaxed your orgasm from you.

“Wanna hear the pretty little sounds you make when you come undone.” 

His whisper was the final blow that had you spiraling toward release. You were chanting his name as you clenched around his fingers.

Your chest was heaving, and you could hardly think straight but you didn’t hesitate to pull Joel closer to you.

He was standing between your legs as you sat on your kitchen counter, your chests almost touching and his hard cock inches away from meeting your entrance. 

“Joel please.” You were out of breath and nearly speechless, still shaking from your climax, but you needed the satisfaction of Joel filling you. You wanted more than his fingers.

In an instant, he was lining himself up with you and pushing his tip in just enough to make you groan in pleasure. Hearing you beg for him like that– his name dripping from your sweet lips, Jesus he’d do anything you asked. 

You were moaning out satisfied little hums with each inch of him that filled you. He was pushing into you slowly savoring every pulse of your walls around his cock.

“So tight sweetheart.” His voice was low as he watched between your bodies. His eyes were staring at your sweet little cunt as you sucked him in deeper and deeper, so needy to be filled– so greedy for him.

You could only moan in response. The feeling of him stretching you out had the coil in your abdomen already tightening again.

He was pushing into you to the hilt and you instinctively grabbed at his shoulders, gripping and pulling at him in pleasure. You just needed to feel more of him– all of him. Your hands ached to feel every square inch of his body.

With your fingers splayed out on his back, Joel pulled out only to thrust back into you fully. Doing this over and over again until you were nearly screaming out underneath him. He could feel your fingertips digging into his shoulder blades which only made him drive into you deeper.

He was thrusting and you were a moaning, writhing mess against him, your bodies meshing together on the tile of your kitchen counter. The lewd sounds of whimpers and skin slapping filled the room and all you could think about is how close you were to coming apart again. Your legs clenched around Joel’s waist as your core strained.

Without warning, he brought his hand between you, letting his thumb fall to your clit. He was rubbing lazy circles into your bundle of nerves while his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot inside you and your body nearly went limp.

“Got another one for me?” His words were broken by grunts.

“Wanna feel you squeeze around me while you cum sweet girl.”

His dirty words were going to shove you right over the edge. With each word he spoke, you pushed yourself closer to the finish line wanting nothing more than to please him.

You felt your body begin to shudder and your second orgasm of the night set in.

“Atta girl. There she is. Good girl.”

That was it. The words of encouragement you needed to completely let go. You were whimpering and gripping onto Joel as your release rushed over you.

The way you were clenching and squeezing around his cock made Joel’s head spin. You were nearly pushing him out, it was so tight and warm and Fuck- he was losing it.

You were barely tethered to earth as he continued sliding in and out of you. His pace was ruthless as he chased his own high. He was fucking you straight through your orgasm, the feeling of it too much for the both of you.

His hands were pawing at your waist, holding onto you as he thrusted relentlessly. The breathy moans and inaudible profanities coming from his mouth signaled his impending release.

You were pulling him in closer with your hands on his back, pushing him into you deeper.

“I want you to cum inside.” You were whining out.

You weren’t sure how you were even forming coherent sentences at this point but the only thing more important than regaining your sanity was the idea of Joel spilling into you when he finished.

“Please Joel, wanna feel it.”

There you were begging for him again. He had absolutely no self control when you spoke to him like that. And when he pulled back to get a good look at you, he almost lost himself entirely. Your gaze was glossed over and your eyelids heavy, you were completely fucked-out on his cock. It was enough to finish him off.

The look in your eyes and the feeling of your walls so tight and inviting around him, had Joel coming undone. He was leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a long drawn out moan.

His load was shooting into you all wet and warm. It was coating your insides and making you hold on tighter to the man doubled over on top of you.

You sat there, your bodies molding together, breath catching and hearts beating. Both of you in shock over how you ended up in this position after a harmless meal shared at your kitchen table.

“So…” You were still breathless as you spoke, trying to gage how Joel was feeling about your current situation.

“Should probably finish those dishes huh?”

He was picking his head up from the comfort of your shoulder and tilting his neck to motion over to the sink next to you.

He was wearing the goofiest smile all sex drunk and proud.

If Joel’s expression told you anything; that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you end up fucking on your kitchen counter.

my masterlist

[sunflloweredd]

i want to worship his body, every part of him, i’d make him lie in bed, let him finger me while i lick, bite and suck his tummy, making sure i’ve tasted every part of it, while his other hand is guiding my head to his cock and make me gag on it <3

[sunflloweredd]

Happy Valentine’s Day and Happy birthday to me. I’m so amazing!!!

[sunflloweredd]

Hockey Miguel WIP!

[sunflloweredd]

Peak m/f

Black women and their brown malewives

[sunflloweredd]

Death Of A Marriage

Miguel O'Hara x Reader ♡ Angsty Drabble

Word on the street is the O’Hara’s are getting a D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

You're still not certain when it all began.When the nights of heated passion turned to little more than oceans of cool sheets between the most familiar of strangers. 

Miguel became intimately familiar with his tablets and gizmos. Hands that had once handled and worshiped your body with the tender care of a sculpture found themselves slowly and steadily becoming more familiar with the coffee maker and an endless deluge of increasingly complicated and intricate puzzles. 

The signs had been there, you suppose. One late night at the office turned into practically every night of the week. The habit of twisting your engagement ring when nervous slowly died- along with your desire to wear it at all. One excuse to leave your ring on the bathroom counter turned into it taking a permanent vacation from your finger. 

Somewhere along the way those looks of longing and desire turned to nothing more than the briefest meeting of the eyes. Always shuttered and always closed off to conversation. You’re not certain when the desire to even know how he felt died but it had. 

Somehow, across the growing ocean of silence carefully built between you, you’d grown cold. By any estimation that turned out to be a blessing as it made his early morning admission over coffee easier to bear. 

“I want Dana.” 

To his credit, Miguel has attempted to look contrite as he informed you of his desire to fuck his ex wife. Tired eyes searching for salvation in his cooling coffee, tie askew, and hair haphazardly styled. In the past - before the tired numbness had set in- you might have teased him that your own hands had done a better job at styling his hair during a moment of passionate embrace. 

Now… now you found only the limited energy to bring your mug to your lips and study him blandly over the brim. 

“You want a divorce?” The words sounded hollow to your own ears, a faint whisper of passion long dulled. His eyes met yours, equally bland and equally shuttered. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

From his expression that hadn’t been the response he’d expected. Though, given the lengthy apathy between you, you hardly understood how he could’ve expected any other. 

“That’s all you got to say?” His eyes flickered with the barest hint of heat. Your own eyes dipped numbly to his fingers and how they tightened about the mug- but this was the titanic, and that buoy wasn’t going to rescue him. 

“What do you want me to say, Miguel?” 

Miguel flinched. It's been so long since he’d heard you call him by his full name. Not since the early months of your relationship. 

“I don’t know.” A hand scrubbed down his face in frustration. 

There were lot’s of words in the back of your mind that you’d like to have said. Would have loved to have the energy to say. 

‘I hope you’re happy with Dana.’ 

‘I really hope it works out this time, Migs, cause if it doesn’t, I won’t be here for you to come crawling back…again.’ 

But these words died like everything else along the currents of apathy. 

The death of a marriage. Just like that. It died with little ceremony. Papers were signed. Boxes were packed.

You still haven’t figured out between you how to explain to Gabriella that she’d see little of you, but her parents were giving it another go. Conchata was thrilled- she’d never much cared for you. 

The death of a marriage. Did most die with a bang? Was the funeral announced with fireworks and fights? Not yours. Yours faded like the faintest of memories. It passed with little more than a wet squelch as it slid to the floor and breathed its last. 

Word on the street is the O’Hara’s are D.I.V.O.R.C.E.D.

[sunflloweredd]

I need. someone to draw...Miguel gripping plus size reader's love handles....