#read this in a southern accent please

[rupawscatrace]

They call me Ryder because of how damn hard i was Rydin on Russ that one night in the Summer of 1969. Also because that's what my Mama named me.

RIP Ma.

That goddamn Skank

Caught Russ sleepin wit Ma in my Childhood Bed in the summer of 2009. I kicked that Boy ass harder than them Hydraulic Pressed squish the Things in them Ticky Tocks . My Ma committed suicide.

Good.

My ma Only hugged me once and that was in the Winter of 1893. Four year after I was born. I was only 8 years old.

She said Ryder... My sweet boy ... I will protect you. Until you turn 12. And then you'll be old enough to work the big tractor on the farm. She didn't. She only protected me until I was 6. And I was not big enough for the Tractor.

I always knew She was a Bitch and a Liar. Ever since i was 8. That was the year that Russ entered my life, a year before my Foot entered his ass. I kicked him so hard that he was the first real man to ever experience the Moon.

That goddamn Moon landing was fake. Russ took photos of the moon for me while he was up there, my shoe still up the rectum. It was blue And smooth. Maybe that was Jupter. Jupter was the blue one Yes? Saturn? ...Was that the Sun?

Might been the Sun because when Russ visited Earth again after falling really hard he was a little Bald in the head, hair singed off. I saw his brain. A little. I stook my finger in it. Squish. Didn't like it much. Took a little taste, Tasted like mama's cookin.

Was that the secret sauce?

Musta been.

Ma wasn't the most sharp tool within the shed. She had a few screws loose up there. She kiled my pa.

RIP Robert Jones.. My first Pa. My second Pa, my Step pa, Gibby Jr was a madman. He took his shirt off and would pour barbecue sauce on himself and gollybe he would jump off the table, Ma's BBQ splattin all over, and the floor would CRACK. He was not okay. I hope he isn't alive. What a freak. What a sick fuck that boy was, I hope Jesus enters his life and his rectum and tells him to Put down the BBQ...

I haven't seen Russ since March 25, 2015... He was pretty broken up that day. Wonder what had happened, my shoe hadn't even entered his rectum yet. Hadn't even kicked him a little bit. Not even to say good mornin. Just up and left, didn't even say goodbye. Called him up the day before (After kickin him around a little bit. (A lot.)) And he said He had to leave his four British boys behind. I don't like Brits much. Too much te and biscuit... Fuck...

I miss you Russ... I miss takin my Shoe out and hearin it go POP!!! I miss cleanin it off afterwards. I miss wonderin why you didn't just put some pants on so it didn't go Right up there. No lube required. I never seen him pantsed. He was never dressed right.

Goodbye Russ, You Five nighted Fredy.......... You godamnFreak they made a Game about you nd you Dont even know . A whole movie. They casted Paul rudd to play you. You always thought he was a sexy hunk... Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh :(

I liked that one.

I miss when Russ came back to life in the summer of 2010 And he Yanked on my doodle so hard I thought I was meeting god and jesus and Mother Mary, I thought I was ascending to the Heavens to reunite wit my Ma. I would have Kicked her in the ass.

Russ likes the Consistent numbers so Maybe he comeback 2030 ... Or maybe in Good ole 3010. My mama's birth year. I will be Waiting at her birth place. Kill her like they shoulda done to Hitler when he was born. Godamn sack knackle.

Oh how me and Russ used to look over the desert together when it was reaching Dusk... The mountains the tumbleweeds. The way the Sun set over the horizon. I can still see it now. The way He would look at me. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh The way he would look at my shoe and Yell. He go "Oh brother it Hurts." I said. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Hush boy.

He loved

Wine

He would cry to the cops every day I never laid a finger on Russ I loved him I really did I only put my shoe up him sometimes from kickin him so damn hard my wooden shoe gave him Splinters in his rectum Sometimes. I would always help him pull em though.

I was a good friend and an even better lover. But what I was best at, was Kickin him in high noon and Throwin him in the outside and he would fly up in the air so fast you could hear a Whistlin sound.

PSHEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Like a Rocket ship.

But sexy.

I cannot wait until 3010 for my dear ole Russ to re-enter my dreary lifestyle. My heart aches for you, Russy.. My pain grows like a fire in the fireplace. My heart swells. I can no longer add new wood to my fire. Not without you, Russ. I can't do it alone. I can't do it.

Today will be the Last day for me, Ryder Jones. Patriotism swells in the heart of the American boy, But my heart is no longer. My heart is broken, and I no longer care about the president. I hate you Joe, You never cared about ME or RUSS or MAMA. You left me. I know you don't remember me, Joe Biden. I was real, You were real, You cared for me once. You could care for me again if you would just listen. Find my Russ and I will find your Queen Elizabeth.

Grandpa, I know I was a disappointment in my younger years.

I never learned to drive that tractor, Truthfully. And God, and Mama, and Joe, and Russ, and Bruce. They all know I was big enough. I was just scared.... Scared of the Tractor, Scared of myself. Scared of Russ. Scared my Tractor would run me over just like it did to Pa.

I shouldnt have been scared of the Tractor. I should have been scared of Mama. She was the one behind the wheel. But her, and Grandpa Biden, they told me "Ryder, it wasn't Mama's fault. The tractor. It malfunctioned, Ryder. My boy, It'll be fine without Pa."

But truth be told Ma or GrandPa Joe never cared about me, or Pa, or Russ, or Brother Bruce... They only cared about ... About... Nothing.... They never cared about nothin.

I once broke my arm tryin to rake the yard. I don't recall how I did it, I don't know how it happened, or if Ma did that to me... But nobody cared. Nobody. But Russ. But Brother Bruce. And... And papa...

Oh Pa :(

I miss when Auntie Margaret would come over on Tuesdays at high noon when the sun was shinin bright over that beautiful wheat farm. Oh the smell of cow manure. How it mixed within the grass And allowed the crops to grow... The circle of life is beautiful. But the circle of life isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it's cruel, it's relentless, it claws at you until you're all out of skin. Sometimes it takes away the ones you love most. Like your lover, your brother, and your dear ole Pa.

Life gives you exactly what you need, but never at the right time. Russ if I could only have you now, I wouldn't even put my shoe up ya. (Unless you wanted me to, of course.) I would hold you. In a tight embrace and I would never let go until God himself came down.

The rapture itself would be the only thing that could take you out of my arms, my dear.

Oh, the things I would do to have you in my arms just once more. Russ Tikitchen, if you were still here. If you were still with us, right now. I would go out, I would get the finest ring ever crafted by any being. Anything better than mother nature could ever dream of. And I would get down on my knee, I would look you in the eye and I would say "Please? After all we've been through... After all I put you through... Please, just this once, let me give back to you." And you wouldn't have to say those two words, "I do." I would still love you the same. No matter how many shoes are up you. Or how many rings are on your finger. Or even if there is a ring on your finger, even if it isn't from me. No matter whose it is, I still love you.

And, Pa. I'm sorry about that fight we had the day before you died.

I knew I was in the wrong, and I hope you know I did still love you all the same. I was just stubborn. Young, naive, not knowing how cruel the world could be. Not knowing how cruel Mama could be... God rest your soul, Pa. And may God bring her soul down into the deepest pits of Hell

Mama.... I wish I could have ended your life with my own very hands. It's a pity you got to do it yourself.

You got to take your own wheel, Mama. But you took Papa's wheel too. You took Russ's (metaphorical) wheel. You took Bruce's (metaphorical) wheel. Bruce is still alive, thank the heavens. But now you're going to take my wheel Mama. Not metaphorically.

Mama... I know this is what you would've wanted... But mama, ow.

I can't do this no more Mama. Papa I love you. I am so sorry. Russ Tikitchen, you were my first lover. And last. God knows I never touched another man. Or woman for that matter. Brother Bruce. You goddamn knucklehead... Bruce if I could only Thwap you on the back of the head one more time. But you're already halfway across the country by now. You've moved out West to fulfill your dreams of becomin a real Star. You're already a star to me brother. But I'm proud of you regardless.

Takes a lot of balls to move out halfway across the country with nothin but the clothes on your back and the money in your pocket. Ooaohwfowagouhdjfjfjj I misss y7ou brother I hope you, Brother Bruce, are doing good with your old lady Lisa. You know I saw her with a woman right? But I won't tell you... Don't wanna ruin your trip. Your dreams. Your lifestyle. Your innocence. You.

I know you were callin me spaghetti fingers. The guys at the bar told me so. Dave, Jeff, and Jack. You remember them, right? I know that was about 93 years ago... But you're still young, you still got that memory of a young whippersnapper.

Well... Goodbye. To Pa, to Bruce, to Russ, to auntie Margaret who came over on Tuesdays at high noon, to Grampy Biden, to step-pa Gibby Jr, to Lisa, and to mama....

Goodbye.

[thenamessparkplug]

I CAN POST THIS NOW THAT IVE FINISHED THE GAME!!!!!

chat lookouts was SO GOOD i HIGHLY RECOMMEND

its about two trans gay outlaw furries i do not know what more you could want

[be-bisexual-eat-hot-chip-and-lie]

its not like i forget bitty’s from the south but sometimes that boy will say something like “fixing to throw them out” and then i Remember

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

And in the last HOUR of pride month I finish up on a drawing of my homemade gay people!

These are my OC's, Kai is the one with the wings and Cyra is the other one, Sammy is the one with four eyes and the other one in Kemera.

Cyra: Gay/tansmasc (He/him)

Kai: Pan (He/him but he doesn't actually care that much since his hair confuses people a lot)

Sammy: Lesban/ demigirl (She/they)

Kemera: Pan/tansfem (She/her)

I love my little alien goofs, I put them through hell but I really do love them! I am in the process of writing their story so I don't usually share much about them but this is all stuff that's either obvious from the beginning or stated at the beginning so ya know! (also ignore that I forgot Sammy and Kemera's 2nd set of arms okay!)

Anyway be gay do crime and punch a homophobe! (that's a joke violence isn't the answerer but at the same time there are moments)

[pedrospatch]

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses. 

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you���ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

[iconicstoner]

I read your love bites and apologies story and I was thinking something similar but opposite!! Reader loves the hickeys and can't get enough of them! Like reader is always covered in hickeys!!! Maybe there's a situation with reader's parents or something, and reader uses it as a way to rebel or something! Idk! Just do whatever you want!!!

If you don't want to write this, that's totally cool!

💖💖💖

a/n: Thank you so much for this request! It was so fun to write and I hope you like what I came up with lol. I also am really glad you enjoyed one of my other stories!

------------------------------------------------------------

marked up

gn!reader x jasper hale (smut)

words: 910

summary: you decide to rebel against your parents by letting Jasper mark you all over, but it quickly turns to even more than that.

“Woah darlin’, calm down now,” Jasper tells you, keeping one hand in your hair. Your mouth is on his icy cold neck, leaving kisses everywhere. He doesn’t have blood, so he can’t get hickeys, but if he could then he would’ve been covered by now. He tried again to tell you to calm down, but all he could focus on was your warm breathe on his neck.

“You always cover me in hickeys, so maybe it’s my turn,” you tell him with a smirk. You’re sitting in his lap, the two of you on his bed, and despite the fact you’re looking down at him, he’s in full control.

  “You don’t like when I leave marks on you?” he asks, already knowing the answer. He gives that perfect smile that’s been burned into your memory. 

“I love it,” you whisper sensually in his ear. You hear a low moan in the back of his throat as he grabs you by the waist. He lifts you up and roughly places you down on the mattress below him. 

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna leave you covered by the time we’re done here. Everyone will know you’re mine,” he tells you. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you respond. 

“Why’s that?” he asks with a grin. You think back to the fight with your parents you’d had before you’d left home. You fell asleep without a shirt on, your parents noticed one of the hickeys on your chest, and they were not pleased. You assured them that it was fine. You still had amazing grades, great relationships with your friends, and your own hobbies, but they hated the idea you were having sex, especially not with someone they didn’t trust, like Jasper.

Jasper lifts up your chin, kissing you your jaw, bringing you back into reality.

“My parents and I are fighting about you again,” you say between breathy moans, “they think you’re a bad influence.”

“I am,” he said while slipping his hand under your shirt. You wanted to listen to his thick southern accent forever, hearing him call out your name in it. You tugged at his shirt, lifting it up. He quickly took it off, and you did the same with your own. Your chest was now exposed and he began kissing you all over. He left hickeys up and down your chest, your waist, your neck, everywhere. Anywhere he could reach your soft, warm skin he pressed his tongue to it. He knew neither of you would be satisfied until you were fully covered in hickeys.

He pulled away from you, slowly unbuckling his pants just to tease you. He unbottoned your pants next and pulled them off you, leaving kisses along your hips. He pulled down your undewear just enough to expose you and began to kiss you there. He licked your bare skin slowly, causing you to buck your hips with excitement. 

He moved back up to your neck, kissing and leaving hickies there again, but he kept a firm grip on your hips. His mouth trailed down to your collarbones, and left more marks there. You knew he was trying to tease you. As he pulled away to let you gasp for air you looked noticed a tent in his boxers, and you knew you craved him. He began to slowly grind against you, his hard pressing up against you in the most satisfying way, causing you to beg for him.

“Please Jasper, I need you,” you moaned out. He began to kiss and suck one of your nipples. You jumped in pleasure as he put one of his cold hands between your thighs, roughly spreading them open. He stopped kissing your chest, and began to kiss you. His tongue was in your mouth, his hard cock was rubbing against you, and you were in pure bliss. He pulled away from the kiss and pushed a few strands of hair out of your face.

“Oh darlin’, I’m not even done with my tongue yet,” he told you before moving back down between your thighs. He grabbed you by the hips and began to tease you with his tongue. He traced it along your inner thighs, causing your hips to jump again.

“Please, Jas,” you begged. You saw him smile up at you before begining to give you head. His tongue moved in the most perfect ways. He kissed and licked you everywhere, and you had never felt more pleasure. His hands were firmly gripped on your thighs, and his tongue moved swiftly. You let out shaky mones as your got closer to your climax, but his movements never faltered. Before you could even register the thought, you had already came. Your legs were shaking from the pleasure.

He sat up, brushing more hair out of your face. He wiped some sweat off of your face before gently kissing your forehead. It was hard to tell if you liked him more gentle and sweet or rough and dominating. You sat up, resting in his arms. The two of you peacfully laid there, skin to skin, for what could’ve been forever. He shifted and got out of bed, having to force himself to let go of your hand. 

“It’s getting late,” he told you as he gathered both of your clothes. “You should get home before it’s dark, or else I might have to punish you next time,” he whispered seductively as he left a final hickey on your neck. 

[allbark-no-bite]

don’t write checks you can’t cash.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: jake seresin is under your skin. or maybe you’re under his. either way you’re going to eat each other alive. jake isn’t about to take the fall

warnings: mentioned age gap, heavy sexual tension (the smut is coming i promise)

author’s note: back on my topgun bullshit bitches (respectfully). i’m not usually one for multi part fics but i actually wrote something with plot for once so please just bear with me. loosely inspired by Zach Bryan’s ‘nineball’. please note this fic title is subject to change bc i hate it

(you can read part 2 here!)

————————————————————————

You don't believe in love at first sight. You think the whole concept is some foolish idea that people who have already fallen in love have the liberty of saying they believe in. Then people who have been through failed relationship after failed relationship are convinced that they're never going to fall in love because it just doesn't happen. The whole idea pretty much just sets the rest of the population up for failure from the start.

Even the concept of finding the right person one day and growing to love them is hard for you to grasp. Because how can you love someone that much? How do you know you love them enough?There are some days that you don't enjoy the presence of even your closest friends for very long, friends who you would do anything for. Even family, you only tolerated so much.

Your high school boyfriend hated that about you, the fact that you realistically needed so little of him—or anyone for that matter. You have always been violently independent, able to provide what you require, and therefore having to maintain a simplistic relationship became nothing but a monotonous task. Even most of your closest friendships faded with time.

Eventually, you prosed the question: what can someone else give me that I cannot give myself?

The answer was companionship. Because when you strip away everything from a person and all they have left to offer you is themself, you have to be willing to choose them. And sometimes that's not the most appealing quality.

Something did happen, the first time you made eye contact with Lt. Jake Seresin, but it was far from love. It was something terrible in your chest, like an aching. Like you knew in your gut that he was going to change your life. Good or bad, you didn't know, but it was certain to happen.

You don't even believe that you two were destined to meet — you just happened to, and in that moment, the damage was done, it was your fate to ruin each other.

——

You like the way he says your name. You like that he says your name on purpose, like he is intentionally seeking out reasons to say it. It's not as harsh sounding coming from his mouth.

"You from around here, [L/n]?"

You're wiping down the glass hatch of your F/A-18 when he approaches you from behind. You swivel your head to catch sight of him behind your back but he's already making a wide circle around you, his chin tipping up then down as he inspects your plane from behind his tinted aviators.

As you watch him scrutinize your aircraft, you regard him with a certain level of apprehension. Jake Seresin was nothing short of gorgeous. He was six feet of bronze skin and lean muscle, withbright green eyes, and a movie star smile. Not to mention the southern accent that had girls drooling over him.

"Austin," you correct him. "Austin, Texas."

You'd been transferred over to Miramar a little over a month ago, becoming the newest addition to the Dagger squad. California was a nice change of scenery, and everyone you had met so far had welcomed you with open arms. That is, everyone but Lt. Seresin— Hangman as they called him. You were still trying to find your footing with him.

You genuinely don't know what his problem is with you. The guy had hardly even given you a glance since the moment you'd arrived. Your first guess would have been that he was one of those dickheads who didn't like women working in the field, but his relationship with Phoenix disproved that theory.

Your answer seems to warrant his attention, and he looks up. His expression twitches at the correction but he doesn't say anything in response. For the first time since you arrived at Miramar, still, unsmiling green eyes catch yours from across the aircraft.

You hold his gaze. After a moment, your stomach twists in an unsettling way, like even it doesn't know what to do with itself. Your first instinct is to look away. Your brain is telling you that if you do, you can avoid any sort of confrontation that may happen as a result. But it's like you can't.

This is the first time he's looked at you, and now you don't dare to look away.

Even from behind the tint of his perfectly polished aviators, you can make out the distinct color of his green eyes. They're so distracting that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

After what feels like eons of uncomfortable staring, he breaks your gaze —surely it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. Flustered, you glance around to see if anyone else has picked up on the affair. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you're not quite sure which, it's nearing 6pm and the base is on the better side of empty. It's a Friday evening and everyone is eager to head out for the weekend.

Someone clears their throat. Hangman is still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn't have anywhere better to be. You want to say something but your gut is telling you that there's some sort of game going on here and you're not sure of the rules.

Finally, he faintly nods his head, as if to excuse himself, and turns to walk away. You watch his retreating back and relax a little, breathing a bit easier.

As you're turning back to your plane, relieved that the interaction is over, you hear him call back over his shoulder.

“The team is heading to the Hard Deck at nine. Don't be late."

And then he's gone, disappeared between one of the hangars.

——

For nine thirty on a Friday evening, the bar isn't nearly as busy as you'd expected it to be. You don't have to fight for a parking spot out front and there's not even a line at the bar. Other than a rowdy looking gaggle accumulating at the pool table, the atmosphere is pretty laid back. Looking around as you walk further in, there is a handful of people in civilians, but the majority of the crowd is composed of off duty aviators in their summer khakis.

You're about to head over to the bar top, where you were sure you had spotted Captain Mitchell, when someone shouts your name.

"Hawk!"

Your head swivels at the sound of your callsign, and you catch sight of Rooster beckoning to you over at the pool table. Immediately you recognize the familiar faces of the Dagger squad around him. You acknowledge him with a smile and head over to join them.

“And here we thought you were going to be a no-show," the brunette pilot chirps, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as soon as you're close enough. You lean into his embrace while touching his chest with a friendly pat of your hand. Bradley is by no means close to drunk but most definitely more than a little buzzed if you're going off of the smell of beer and lime on his breath and the occasional involuntary twitch of his mustache.

"I thought about it, but I can't keep letting you guys have all the fun," you laugh, holding out your other arm so that you can greet Natasha with a hug as Rooster releases you.

After hugging you, she presses a sweating bottle of beer into your hand. "Coyote bought everyone a round so I figured I'd save you one before the boys wiped them out. Sorry if it's a bit warm, you did show up fashionably late."

You playfully roll your eyes at her, taking the beer anyhow. "Thanks, Phe."

Payback places a large palm on the top of your head, diverting your attention towards him as he returns from the bar. "Don't let her fool you, we're just getting started over here. Rooster isn't even drunk enough to get on the piano yet."

Laughing, you glance over at the brunette aviator. "Now that I've been waiting to see. I hear you're quite the show, Bradshaw."

Since you transferred over to Miramar, you had been hounded nonstop to go out drinking with the team for weeks, and Rooster's infamous performance had been one of their key selling points. That and the fact that the owner, Penny, often gave them free drinks. Apparently she had a thing for Captain Mitchell.

Rooster grins, leaning against the pool stick in his hand as he waits for Fanboy to take his shot. "Let me get a couple more beers deep and I promise you won't be disappointed."

As you go about making your rounds to greet everyone else, you can't help but notice that there's someone missing. After you take a seat beside Bob to watch Rooster and Fanboy play, you glance around the bar a few times, convinced that you've somehow overlooked him despite the fact that the place isn't busy enough for that.

An almost disappointed feeling pulls at you despite how ridiculous the realization makes you feel.

After spending the better part of an half hour trying to push the feeling away, you finally spot a familiar head of blonde hair over at the dartboard. He's by himself, about three darts in and half a bottle of beer down. So much for the personal invitation, you think.

You watch as he throws a dart, practically without so much as aiming whilst contemplating whether or not you even have it in you to muster up the courage to face those green eyes again.

Without giving yourself the chance to back down, you swallow back the rest of your now warm beer and head over.

He tosses another dart just as you reach him, and it finds itself dead center with the previous three.

"With a hand like that, you should be kicking Rooster's ass over there in pool," you say as you come to a stop behind him.

Walking away from the dartboard, Jake turns to grab his bottle of beer from the table beside you.

"I'm not much of a betting man," he huffs, leaning back against the table. The muscles of his biceps bugle distractingly against the sleeves of his uniform.

You look back over your shoulder, watching from a distance as Fanboy's cue clips the eight ball and sends it ricocheting off the sidewall. He groans, and Rooster whoops triumphantly from behind him.

"It wouldn't be much of a bet. Even with his winning streak, I think you'd give him a run for his money."

Hangman takes a sip from his bottle, mouth lingering on the rim before he sets it back down and crosses his arms. "Rooster's all luck and no skill. The table's got a lean."

You raise your eyebrows at the confession, half laughing at his lax confidence. "Oh? And you would know this how?"

"C'mon, son. Fuckin' hit it in."

Body tense, his arm quivers ever so slightly and the pool stick bobs shakily in his hand. He closes his eyes and takes a breath in.

"I haven't got all day, kid."

He breathes out and breathes back in. The smell of cigar smoke and cheap beer swims in his head.

"What're you doin'?! Quit wastin' time."

He exhales, opens his eyes, and hits the pool stick forward. The white cue ball shoots out to the left, bounces against the eight ball, and sends it hurdling towards the side pocket. At the very last moment, it veers off to the left and falls into  the back corner pocket instead.

The man standing on the other side of the table curses, his pool stick dropping to the ground, but Jake pays little mind to him. He straightens, looking around eagerly for the only set of eyes that matter. The grin falls from his face when he realizes the old man isn't even watching, too busy counting out his prize money and yanking out a ten to hand to the bartender.

Jake looks up at the clock on the wall over his shoulder.

12:57 am

"Dad, I wanna go home."

"Not yet, son. I've already got fifty put down on another round."

"Want me to show you?"

His offer makes you pause, and you can't help but cock your head a bit as you try to weigh out just where this is heading. For weeks he has acted as though you barely even existed and now you're engaged in the longest conversion the two of you have had since your arrival.

Jake finishes his drink and sets the bottle down whilst walking over to you. "Final offer. Take it or leave it."

You laugh a little before stepping back so that he can make his way to the pool table. "Lead the way then." But before you can make it too far, his palm finds the flat of your back, pressing you forward so that you're in front of him. You're glad he can't see you because your face flashes hot at the unexpected contact.

"I'm not the one playing, kid. I'm just going to show you the ropes."

"Oh, I didn't-"

Any objections you have about the situation are ignored as he pushes you firmly in the direction of the pool table and asks Payback for his cue. "Look alive, Bradshaw. Hawk is about to show you how this thing is done."

Straightening his wide shoulders, Bradley grins, smug and easy as you and Hangman approach the opposite side of the table. "And here I thought you were here to reclaim your throne now that I'm intoxicated."

Jake grins back. "You don't need to be drunk for me to do that."

Bradley's mustache twitches, but he's still smiling. "Sure."

Jake turns back to you, placing the pool stick in your hand. You can't help but think that his expression is all too confident for someone who has never even seen you play pool.

"Nervous?" he asks as you take the stick from him.

"Should I be?" you ask back, turning your head to watch as Rooster takes the liberty of breaking the rack.

He shakes his head, his green eyes glowing with a warmth that you've yet to see from him. "Not as long as you don't totally suck."

Seeing that it's your turn, you brush past him to stand at the table. "I guess I'll let you be the judge of that."

Thankfully you've played your fair share of pool and so you're able to hold your own for most of the game. Jake remains criminally silent as you play, arms once again crossed as he leans against a nearby stool, but you can feel his gaze burning into your back the entire time. It isn't until the end of the game and you've missed the same ball multiple times that he steps in.

"Shift left," he directs you. When you glance over at him, he nods his head as if to insinuate where you should move but doesn't move from where he's planted himself since the beginning of the game.

Hesitantly, you shuffle over a half step and take the shot. The ball comes closer than you have been but still hits the sidewall just short of the pocket. You huff in frustration, and Rooster steps forward to take his turn, sinking his second to last ball in the same pocket.

"I hope you're ready to buy the next round, Seresin. Looks like Hawk is losing her nerve," Bradley goads, unable to keep himself from boasting a little at your expense. When it comes to Hangman, he can't resist the chance to taunt him.

You roll your eyes at his comment, not bothered so much by it as compared to the fact that you're losing. When it's your turn again, you line up the ball and lean down to assume your position when Jake stops you.

All the sudden he's right beside you, palm pressing into your hip to scoot you to the side. "Move over." When you look at him like he's crazy, he huffs. "C'mon, do you want my help or not?"

It isn't so much of a question as it is a statement and the press of his hand against your side doesn't leave you much of an option and so you shuffle over to the far right side of the pool table.

Before you can even comprehend what's going on, he's leant over you, his impossibly tall frame pressed to your back so that he can reach around you and guide your hands. One wraps around your hand on the stick and the other cups your opposite elbow.

It takes everything in you not to jerk away, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. Instead you try to focus on controlling your hammering heart and pray he can't tell how clammy your palms suddenly are.

"Hey, that's not allowed," Rooster complains. "Is that allowed?"

Coyote shrugs. "It's not not allowed."

Distracted by their bickering, his voice in your ear nearly makes you jump. "Hit the cue ball. Hard."

The lean press of his body is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he's done a god awful job of lining up the shot. There's not one alternate reality where you make this shot.

"You can't be serious."

He's so close that you feel him smile beside your ear. "Dead."

"Any day now," Rooster prompts, as if you aren't aware that Jake Seresin has been pressed against you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And if Hangman has noticed the fact that your heart is fluttering erratically inside your chest or that your skin is flushed hot to the touch, he doesn't let on. 

"I'm waiting," he reminds you, his voice placid in your ear.

Against your better judgement, you take the shot.

The white cue ball hurtles into the black eight ball with a hard clack and sends it flying across the table. It smashes against the sidewall, exactly as you had expected it to, and you release a breath of defeat. And then something unexpected happens. The ball slows, but instead of bouncing to a stop, it continues to roll left across the table. You all watch as it rolls directly into back corner pocket of the table.

"Well I'll be damned," Payback mutters aloud.

"Hell yeah, [L/n]!" Phoenix shouts, her loud and robust voice ringing out across the bar. "Shots are on Bradshaw!"

"Thanks buddy," Coyote laughs, teasingly grabbing the back of the brunette aviator's shoulders as he heads off for the bar.

Bradley waves them off, looking a bit miffed but still good naturedly accepting his defeat.

"How about it? You're a cold blooded killer."

Like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head, the sound of Hangman's voice coming from behind you jerks you back to reality. You haven't even noticed that he'd stepped away. Something inside you twinges at the loss of his body pressed against yours.

You turn around to face him, your brain still trying to comprehend what just happened.

"How'd you do that?" you ask incredulously, your tone almost accusing. A deeper part of you wants to ask 'why did you do that' but the smile on his face stops you.

His top row of pearly white teeth that you glimpse is pristine, however brief, before his pink lips come back together in a more subdued smile. It's an expression that is so very genuine and carefree that it sends a spark straight through to your heart. You've never seen him actually smile before, and especially not at you.

"You're smiling," you accuse before you can stop the words from coming out of your mouth, half giddy at the discovery yourself.

Jake looks slightly away, turning his head briefly in order to suppress his smile before looking back to you. “Yeah? So?” His green eyes are twinkling as he says it, like he knows he’s been caught.

You jab the short end of the pool stick into the center of his chest, but he’s quick to grab it before it can find home.

“Up until yesterday, you could barely stand to even look at me,” you say.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not true.”

“So you’re saying that I’m seeing things.” You try to tug back on the pool stick but Hangman doesn’t release it.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be seeing things.”

With that, a larger portion of the previous smile is gone from his face, a more sober look replacing it.

Just like that the spark fades. Even though you want to shut down, turn your back to his face and just walk away. You force yourself to keep talking, holding your voice steady. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

Inside you know exactly what he means.

His eyes flicker up over your shoulder but the Dagger squad has already moved on to crowd around Rooster at the piano.

You clamp your jaw together as he releases the pool cue and crosses his arms in front of his chest. It makes him look more relaxed than he is.

"Look, whatever this is—whatever you think I am, I'm not." He says this with the realistic conviction of someone who knows that even if it is, you can't. He says it like he’s trying to convince himself.

You’re not quite sure how old he is—barely thirty if you had to guess— but he’s older. Too old. Not to mention fraternization is deeply frowned upon.

"I know," you answer firmly. Because you do. Because even if it isn't, you want it, whatever it is.

He stares down at you with those green eyes, his pupils pinpoint sharp. After a moment he heaves a sigh and releases it, nodding his head. “So we’re in agreement?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We’re in agreement.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

[strang3lov3]

Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts. 

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it. 

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show. 

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment. 

I look forward to pleasuring you. 

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway. 

-

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you. 

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk. 

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah. 

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?” 

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles,  “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?” 

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply. 

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.” 

“The vanilla one. Please.” 

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.” 

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard. 

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.” 

“Not at all.” 

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure. 

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure. 

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure. 

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.” 

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come. 

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”  

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish. 

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before. 

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.” 

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit. 

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.” 

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.” 

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. Very.” 

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

 “That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?” 

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

 “Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

 “Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.” 

“O-okay. That sounds good.” 

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice. 

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.” 

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble. 

“But first…It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.” 

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…” 

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing. 

“...And out.” 

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.” 

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.” 

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?” 

“Yes, go ahead.” 

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh. 

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt. 

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks. 

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…” 

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.” 

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”  

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it. 

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.” 

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do. 

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs. 

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.” 

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.” 

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.” 

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you. 

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.” 

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.” 

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.” 

“Fuck, Ezra–” 

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.” 

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down. 

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”

You pout. 

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste. 

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3

[gothcsz]

imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩

girl i'd subscribe so fast

oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! 🙂‍↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!

tags: f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c

p.s. if you’re into pornstar!javi you should check this out 🖤

look at how yummy this dick is 👀

You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.

It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.

You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.

why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?

She replies right away.

first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it

You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.

The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.

tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account 

She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.

You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.

Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The title reads: Late Night at the Office. 

The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.

So you tap it.

It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.

His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.

There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.

And then, he speaks.

“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.

“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”

His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.

“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.

Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.

It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place. 

But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.

You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.

You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”

Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.

You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”

You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”

And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.

It’s everything. 

As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.

“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”

He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.

He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.

“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”

His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.

“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.

All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.

You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?

His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?

It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.

He’s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.

“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”

Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.

The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.

His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.

His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.

“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”

You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.

“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”

Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.

“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.

“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”

He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.

Yummy in-fucking-deed.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”

You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.

The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly. 

“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.

“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”

Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.

You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.

“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”

Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.

The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.

“Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.

The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.

“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”

The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.”

Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.

You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.

“Oh fuck!”

You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.

Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love. 

You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there. 

Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.

“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up. 

oh my fucking god that was amazing

You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.

right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋

You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.

When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.

@muneca_bella

Perfect.

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days. 

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being. 

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way. 

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line. 

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner. 

So he was a firefighter. 

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around. 

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink. 

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks. 

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you. 

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. 

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café. 

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall. 

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties. 

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out. 

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all. 

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee. 

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.” 

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt. 

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious. 

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around. 

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close. 

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that. 

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.” 

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically. 

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?” 

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.” 

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips. 

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along. 

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him. 

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.” 

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness. 

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.” 

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly. 

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.” 

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door. 

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment. 

-

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver. 

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper. 

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.” 

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.” 

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that. 

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks. 

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home. 

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.” 

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead. 

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you. 

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it. 

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.” 

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile. 

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!” 

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off. 

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: 

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response. 

You: 

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use? 

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text. 

Joel: 

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake. 

You: 

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it? 

Joel:

Stupid how? 

You: 

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself? 

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning. 

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again. 

You: 

I’m glad we did too, Joel. 

Joel:

Watcha up to right now? 

You: 

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going? 

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out. 

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip. 

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red. 

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car. 

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens. 

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head. 

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene. 

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see. 

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass. 

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.” 

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.” 

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws. 

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man. 

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.” 

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face. 

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad. 

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly. 

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving. 

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods. 

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve. 

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that. 

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire. 

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion. 

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest. 

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you. 

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well. 

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised. 

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off. 

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away. 

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. 

“To who?” He asks. 

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more. 

“She said I should give it a shot with you.” 

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway. 

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat. 

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller. 

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.  

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

[joelsgoldrush]

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me &lt;///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by. 

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night. 

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had  heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on? 

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities. 

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.” 

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?” 

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing. 

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about. 

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you. 

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?” 

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around? 

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame. 

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames. 

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket. 

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp. 

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you. 

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room. 

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.” 

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick. 

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.  

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. 

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse. 

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 5: Just Stay✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes you on a date to his favorite diner.

A/N: This chapter gets angsty real quick, so I’m sorry 😭 But it’s so so important for the plot and the next chapter. We will get through it, besties 🥹 This fic is my baby, and I am just so happy with how it’s turning out. I want to hear all your thoughts! Thank you to @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading for me 💕 Next chapter is almost done so promise I won’t make you wait long! Comments and reblogs always make my day, I hope you enjoy 🩵

Word Count: 7.6k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Chapter tags: Fluff, Joel being cute and flirty, yearning, a lot of angst, feelings, doubts, no use y/n, no outbreak! au, Joel takes reader on a date, a lot of tears, switching POVs (I’m terrible with tags, so let me know if I missed anything!)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

 It’s Thursday, the night of your dinner with Joel, and you’re currently sitting in his truck, twisting your fingers nervously into the fabric of your dress, your smile a mile wide as you listen to Joel’s Southern accent put you in a hypnotic trance.

   God, he’s so handsome. 

   “Think you’re gonna like this place,” Joel smiles as his thumb taps against the leather steering wheel. His truck hums to a stop in front of a lit up small diner that reads Sal’s in bright blue letters.

   “I’m sure I will.” You smile over at him before he puts the truck in park and unlatches his seat belt, slipping out of the driver’s side while you climb out the passenger’s door, pulling down your white summer dress over your thighs.

   The truck ride to dinner was anything but boring as you listened to Joel talk more about his daughter and some of their adventures they’ve been on before she went off to Greece to study abroad. You wondered what happened to Sarah’s mom, but maybe that was territory for another time. Besides, you still don't know what this thing is between you two, but it’s starting to feel a lot more like something serious and not just something casual. And that absolutely scares you to death. 

   “After you,” he nods as he holds the door open for you and leads you in, one large hand clasped on your lower back as if his touch is steadying your galloping heart.

   When you step in, an old jukebox sits at the entrance, lit up in neon green colors as an Elvis song vibrates through the overhead speakers. Leather booths sit against the brown painted walls as pictures of The Beatles, Marilyn Monroe, and old movie stars hang around the diner. It’s an old timey theme that goes with the bar that sits at the front with a big glass case of pies and desserts on display. It’s very homey and comforting.

   Yeah, you definitely like this place. 

   “Wow. This is really cozy,” you say as you look around all starry eyed at the little diner.

   Joel looks down at you, and a crooked grin tugs at his lips. “That it is.”

   A waitress in a red apron waves the both of you over with two crisp menus. “Hey, Joel! Table for two?” The perky brunette smiles as Joel nods. 

   “Hey, Kat. Yeah, table for two, please,” he replies as he pushes you forward in the direction of the back booth she leads you to.

   “Come here a lot?” you giggle.

   “How’d you guess?” He smirks, brown eyes flicking over you as he pulls his hand away, allowing you to slide in the leather seat across from him. His knees brush lightly against yours, and a jolt of energy bursts through your bloodstream.

   “So, what’s your go-to here? Since you obviously come here a lot,” you laugh as you pick up a plastic menu and scan the various burgers, sandwiches, milk shakes, and old fashioned dinner items that all sound absolutely delicious.

   You hear him chuckle over your menu, slowly lowering it so you can see that glimmer of onyx in his eyes as a smug smile crosses his lips. “Usually jus’ go for the old fashioned cheese burger and a chocolate shake.”

   “Not bad, Miller.” 

   He smiles and nods your way. “And you? What kind of shake girl are you?” He leans on his elbow on the polished table and gazes into your eyes. You have to catch your breath as you stare at him, his slicked back dark hair, grey threads catching under the dim lights, a dark blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons undone to expose dark hair peeking out from his muscular chest, his black watch glinting every time he turns his wrist. He’s just so good looking that he makes it really hard to concentrate on anything else. 

   You fold your arms on the table and gaze into honeysuckle eyes. “Usually just a strawberry shake kind of girl, if we’re talking classics.”

   He gives you a small smile, but before he can say anything else, the blonde waitress comes up to the table. “Well, what do we have here? Joel Miller bringing a girl to the diner? My, thought I’d never see the day,” she laughs as she sets two waters down on the table.

   Joel’s face reddens as he rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff. “Guess I jus’ had to find the right one first,” he smiles, flicking his eyes over you as your breath catches in your throat. 

   He’s never brought a girl to his favorite restaurant before? You were… the first one? Oh.

   “I see,” she says as she takes a minute to trail her eyes over you. You see her mouthing ‘she’s pretty’ to Joel, and now it’s your turn to blush as Joel nods his head and lays his eyes over you again. “Well, what’ll it be? Your usual?” she asks, taking out a little notepad and a black ink pen to write with.

   “The usual for me. What do you want, sweetheart?” he asks, and you swear you see Sienna cup her mouth and giggle into it when he calls you sweetheart. 

   “Can I get the grilled cheese with French fries, and a strawberry shake?” you ask nicely as you hand her back the menu.

   “Sure can. Can I get you anything else?” she asks as she twirls the pen around her freshly manicured fingers.

   “Oh, can I also get a side of ranch?”

   “No problem. I’ll get that order in, and I’ll be right back with your shakes. Let me know if you need anything else.” She flips her blonde ponytail and flashes Joel a bright smile as she walks off toward the back.

   “Ranch dressin’, huh?” he chuckles, shifting his weight in his seat.

   “Only the best dipping sauce in the world,” you confirm with your head held high.

   He laughs and gives you a smile. “Haven’t tried that before. Guess I’ll have to tonight,” he beams.

   “Guess you will,” you say with a raised brow.

   You take a generous sip of water and swish the bendy straw around nervously, looking up from under your dark lashes as you take a deep breath. “So, first girl you’ve brought here?” you ask with your brows raised in question.

   He taps his index finger on the edge of the table and nods. “Besides Sarah, yeah. First girl.” Your eyes lock for a few seconds, and you feel your heart skip a beat at the intention that burns in his dark brown irises.

   The questions slur through your mind. Is this an actual date? Does this incredibly handsome man really like you? Is he wanting… more? Do you want more? 

   The tension gets interrupted as Sienna comes back and hands you your milkshakes. “Here ya go! Food should be out soon, sugar. Be back in a few.” She whisks away and leaves you two alone again. 

   You pull your eyes off Joel and slip a straw into your strawberry shake, mixing it around until your nerves dissolve into the liquid. “So, read anymore Fourth Wing?” you ask after taking a sip of your shake.

   Joel wipes his mouth with a napkin and dips his silver spoon into his chocolate shake. “Actually, quite a bit. Made it to chapter twenty-two.”

   You lift your eyebrows in surprise and smile. “Oh? And?”

   He drops the spoon from his mouth and spins it around his chocolate shake meticulously. “Pretty good. Dain’s kind of an asshole, but Violet’s kinda badass. And the dragons, the fighting? Not bad, angel. Can see why you like it.”

   You giggle and take another sip of the strawberry goodness, letting it slide down your throat as you feel it close up the moment his brown eyes flick back toward yours. “It is really good, just wait till you start the second book.”

   “The second book? Already think I’m gonna read the second book?” He smirks, one eyebrow stretched up as he licks his bottom lip clean of chocolate. The sight makes you weak in the knees. 

   “Figured you’d read it for me,” you whisper just loud enough for his mouth to drag up in a full on grin.

   “Well, when you put it that way, ‘course I will. I’d read anything you put in my hands,” he smiles. His knee brushes against yours, and your heart hammers in your chest as you engulf yourself in the smell of him, in his gorgeous brown eyes. Even from the wafts of burgers and fries, you can still smell that woodsy cologne floating around your senses. And you want to drown in the very essence of him.

   You bat your eyelashes at him and smile. “In that case, I’ll make you a list,” you giggle.

   “I’m holdin’ ya to it, angel,” he chuckles as he takes another generous sip from his chocolate shake.

   The music switches over to an old Beatles song, and after you stir the spoon around your shake, you decide to bring up Sarah again. “So, Sarah. She like this place as much as you?”

   Joel chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, not as much as I do, but she does like it. Brought her here all the time when she was a kid.”

   You smile at that, thinking of Joel helping her up on one of the barstools, him laughing as he joked with his daughter, his warm smile gleaming in the sunlight as he took her on different adventures and did fatherly things like take her to the park, to the dinosaur museum, maybe even played Barbies with her. You giggle at the image of that. He must’ve been such a good father, you can see it in the way his eyes glisten and crinkle when he talks so fondly about her.

   Suddenly, you get the sudden urge to ask about her mother, wondering where she fit into all this. Surely she’s still around, maybe closer to Joel than you think. You work up the courage to ask as you stir the spoon mindlessly in your strawberry shake. “Hey Joel, can I ask you something?”

   “Anything,” he says automatically as his brown eyes lift up to yours.

   You gulp down your nerves and let them roll off your tongue. “Where’s Sarah’s mom?”

   Joel’s eyes widen at the question, and you automatically feel guilty for even bringing it up. He pushes back some tousled curls and sighs, wetting his bottom lip as his eyebrows crease tightly together. “She left us when Sarah was jus’ a baby. Jus’ up and left with no more than a folded note. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”    

   Your mouth gapes open in shock, and his eyes gloss over with a hint of sadness as his fingers turn into a tight fist. You definitely struck a very sore topic, and you hate yourself for even asking now. “Oh my god, Joel. I’m so very sorry,” you reply shakily as you let your spoon drop with a plop into the glass cup.

   He shakes his head and sighs. “Don’t gotta apologize, sweetheart. ‘S not your fault. Besides, we made it jus’ fine without her. Didn’t even need her.” Again, you see the prickle of a held back tear, and you wish you could just brush away that part of the past for him.

   “Well, if it’s worth any consolation, I think you did a really good job. I mean, look at her. Studying to be an architect, traveling around the world? I’d say she took after her smart daddy,” you smirk. That sends a warm smile spreading wide over his mouth, and you can’t help but blush as his eyes flick to yours. 

   “Smart daddy, huh? That what I am?” He chuckles as he keeps his eyes locked on yours.

   You shrug and giggle. “I’d say so.” That makes a deep chuckle fall from his lips as he clasps his hands together on the table, rubbing against your outstretched hand.

   You catch your breath and meet his eyes again, nervously brushing your knee against his. “It’s her loss. She missed out on a great guy, didn’t know what she was missing, apparently.” His eyebrows draw together, and his eyes dim with a hint of a glimmer as a small smile curls around his mouth. He looks like he wants to say something with the way he’s looking at you all gentle and prideful, but you’re quickly interrupted as Sienna brings the food to the table.

   “Here you two go! Plates are a little hot, so be careful.” She lays the glass plates in front of the two of you with a curt nod and a playful wink as she turns to leave you alone again.

   You pick up a hot fry and dip it in the creamy ranch, scooting it over in Joel’s direction as you bite into warm goodness. “Go on, try it,” you giggle as he hesitantly dips his own fry into the white sauce, carefully bringing it to his plush lips. He takes a bite, and a surprising look glazes over his face.

   After a few seconds he gives you a small smile and goes back for another one. “Not bad, angel. Not bad at all.” You acknowledge it as a compliment and dig into your grilled cheese, knowing you just metaphorically saved a life by showing the powers of what ranch dressing can do.

   “Told you,” you laugh, taking a large bite out of the extra cheesy grilled cheese.

   “Mmm, sure did. Gotta start listenin’ to your suggestions more often,” he winks. You just push back a piece of loose hair and smile.

   The next half hour is spent delving into your food and flirting back and forth, brushing knees against one another, blushing and smiling probably more than you ever have in your entire life, and it’s all because of this man, this incredibly ridiculous hot, sweet man. How did you ever end up in a diner talking about life with Joel Miller? 

   Minutes go by, maybe hours. You don’t really keep track anymore. “You were in a band?” you laugh incredulously as you look at his gleaming eyes. 

   “Sure was. Played the lead guitar. Didn’t last long, but it was fun while it lasted.” He sits back in the booth and spreads his legs wide, like this is the most casual conversation ever and he’s actually enjoying himself. 

   “Do you still play?” you ask with hope glittering in your eyes.

   “Sure do. You ever tried?” His eyebrow raises with curiosity written all over those dark brown irises.

   You shake your head at that. “No, always wanted to try, just never got around to it.”

   He taps his index finger on the edge of the table, and a small smile curls around that beautiful mouth. “You wanna learn?” He threads his eyebrows together and leans forward, like he’s reaching for a certain answer.

   You bat your eyelashes up at him nervously and ask quietly. “Are you offering to teach me?”

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and nods. “If you wanna learn then absolutely. Not like I haven’t taught you a thing or two before.” He winks and the giant smirk makes you choke on your water because you know exactly what he’s talking about, and it’s not just guitar strings but something else he’s shown you with those thick, calloused fingers. 

   Heat floods your cheeks as you look into those smoldering coffee irises. The more you stare at him, the more you want to reach across the table and melt into his glowing soul. “Okay,” you say dreamily, resting your knuckles casually under your chin as you lean against the table and stare absentmindedly at the man with the pretty brown eyes. 

   “Is that a yes?” He pines, trying to wind his thick fingers around your skull as he searches for an answer that’s right on the tip of your bashful tongue. 

   “Like… at your club?” 

   He chuckles and shakes his head no. “No, sweetheart. At my house.”

   His house. You don’t know why, but the mention of that has something that feels a lot like bile rising in your throat. His house. That’s different than meeting at the club, even different than this. And suddenly, you realize just what this is, how much more it feels than just sleeping together. This is a date, and that makes your stomach clench in a tight knot at the very thought of what comes next. 

   When you don’t answer, he reaches over and lays a big hand on top of yours, his thumb sliding along the inside of your wrist as your vision tunnels. Oh god, what is he about to ask? 

   “I’ve been thinking…” He blinks a couple times and drops those beautiful brown eyes on you, giving you that million dollar smile that makes you weak at the knees. He sighs as he strokes his fingertips over your clammy skin. “What are we doin’ here, angel?”  

   Your heart halts, and for a second you can’t even breathe, nonetheless speak like a normal human being. “What do you mean?” The words are barely a whisper as they ghost through your lips, your hand tightening against the tabletop.

   You know exactly what he means, you’re just too scared to hear those words come out of his mouth.

   He slides a hand through his greying scruff and stifles a deep laugh, and then his eyes are piercing through yours like the morning sunrise on a rainy day. “I mean… us.”

   “Us?” Your voice is full on shaking, and your breathing is anything but normal now. 

   He lets out a sigh that sounds a little like frustration, but he doesn’t let his smile and warm eyes falter. “Yeah, us. Me and you, angel. What are we doin’?” 

   “I… uhhh… we…” Your words are nonexistent, only a form of mumbling and jumbled sounds spilling from your mouth. Joel’s gaze flinches as he waits, his fingertips becoming shaky and dismantled as his jaw ticks. And fuck why can’t you say the words? That you do want him. You want this, you just want everything from this incredible man, but fear stops you. And then the next words that fall from your lips completely ruin you.

   You press your knees together and bite your nails into the flesh of your thigh, grinding the words you don’t want to say out like nails clawing down chalkboards. “I mean… we’re just having fun, right?” His jaw immediately drops.

   Shit. You’ve just ruined everything.

   He pulls back from you, dropping his hand onto his side of the table, and he looks completely wrecked. You see the light in his brown eyes die as he clenches his jaw into a tight fist and runs his hand unruly through his tousled curls. 

   Shit shit shit.

   “Jus’ havin’ fun? Is that all we’re doin’?” His voice sounds garbled like he’s drowning under a faucet, and you start to tremble in place. 

   Say something, anything to take back what you said. For the love of god, reach for him! But you don’t move, your hand doesn’t even twitch, even though all you want to do is reach for that hand, his arms, his heart. Fuck. But you don’t move. You don’t do a damn thing but freeze.

   “I — uhhh… mhm.” You can’t even look at him when you say it because there’s shame written all over your pathetic face, and you really don’t want to look into those disappointed eyes that are reddening with held back tears. 

   “That right? This right here is all jus’… fun.” His voice is smothered in disappointment, and you swear you hear him mention something about how it was all some game, and that fucking breaks you. This isn’t a game to you, but you can’t seem to make your voice work. 

   He stares at you, his eyes darkening as a deep scowl forms on his lips. He’s waiting for an answer, but you just can’t do anything to make this better. So you mutter words you don’t mean out. “I… I don’t know.” The look of instant regret threads his face, and he looks like he just found out his dog got run over with the speckles of tears that push through his tormented eyes. And now, you can’t even look at him.

   You’re such a fucking coward. 

   And just to make it worse, the fucking waitress interrupts. “You two lovebirds want some pie?” she asks sweetly. The question makes you sick.

   “Nah, think we’re done here. Jus’ bring me the check.” The sounds from his heavy words hit you like a car crash, and you feel regret caving hard in your clenched gut for what you’ve just done.

   You dare to take a peek up from under your long lashes, but you regret it the moment you see that weathered stare, that stone-like face that tells you enough. He’s just as devastated as you. Because he thought this was more, and it should be more. But you’re just a girl with a fucked up past who just can’t seem to let go, so you ruin everything you touch. 

   You’re nothing but a disappointment. 

   You flick your gaze down to your curled fingers that almost tear through your soft pink dress. This was a special dress, one you thought Joel would like, one you were so excited to wear because his eyes lit up the moment he saw you in it. And now? Now you just feel like Cinderella when her stepsisters tore her favorite, special dress to shreds. You’re nothing but fire ashes that burnt out long ago.

   Sienna comes back, and Joel leaves her a fifty dollar bill, not bothering to wait for any change. He doesn’t even say your name when he gets up, he just stands at the door silently and waits for you to follow without even one lingering gaze. You feel just like a lost puppy who lost their favorite owner, and you swear you die right on the spot when you brush up against him and feel him pull back, like you’ve just burned him. 

   But you did burn him. You scorched him alive. 

   The truck ride back to your apartment is soundless, the only noise is the faint hum of the engine as the tires drive along the dark road. His music is even muted. Every time you look over he’s either pinching the bridge of his nose, raking a hand heavily through his beard with concern etched painfully in his eyes, or running his fingers roughly through his now disheveled hair. He looks like he’s just been through hell. You did that, you fucking did that. Goddamn it! 

   You lick your bottom lip nervously, feeling your fingers start to rip through the bottom of your dress. You’re clawing your legs so fiercely that you’re about to lose your fucking mind because you can’t say what you really want to say. So you just stay silent; you just don’t have the energy to do anything else at this point.

   When he finally pulls up to your door after that painful ride, he puts the truck in park and keeps one hand clenched tight around the leather steering wheel, only facing forward as his lips form a tight line.

   You slowly unbuckle your seatbelt and look at him with swimming eyes, your vision starting to blur as you compose your shaky breath. “I uhh… I had a nice time tonight, Joel. Thank you for dinner.” 

   His knuckles squeeze the steering wheel tighter, and he barely even looks over at you as he fights to make words tear out of his mouth. “It was no trouble.” No ‘you’re welcome’ or ‘I had a nice time too, angel’. And that makes you want to die.

   You curl your fingers around the door handle and pry it open with a shaky hand, but before you slip out you say one more thing that you think will save this whole messed up situation. “Maybe… maybe you could give me that guitar lesson?”

   He gulps down a breath and ticks his jaw, his face looking straight forward so he doesn’t have to look you in the eyes. “I… I’ll see you around.”

   It’s over. 

   Your face drops like your heart does in your chest, and you mindlessly step out and let the door close behind you. He pulls out instantly and leaves you standing there alone, tears streaming down your face as you watch the headlights disappear like they were never there in the first place.

   You stay frozen in that spot, letting the chill of the night breeze past your bare arms, your eyes bloodshot and wide as you replay the end of the dinner, the part where you fucked it all up.

   Your fault, your fault, your fault. And suddenly, you feel as if you just ruined your entire life. 

   You drag yourself into the apartment, not even bothering to turn on the lights as you slide beneath your cool sheets and shed the tears you held in the past half hour. You let them fall until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think about anything but those sad doe eyes. And that’s the last thing you remember until sleep drags you under. And then there’s just darkness and nothing else but your own stupid mistakes playing through an endless nightmare.

   He moves in a fog the next week, his body lethargic and numb as he pushes past blocks of bodies, the echoing music drowning through his ears as he goes through repeated motions he can barely tolerate. 

   He spends the evenings in the club tucked away in his office where no one can touch him, where he’s not reminded of your beautiful eyes or your dimpled smile. His hand clenches around the whiskey glass as cold droplets collect where his lips meet the edge of the cup, slow sips drinking in the relaxing sting that numbs his buzzing body.

   You were supposed to be his, but instead you’re just a ghost that materializes in his memory every fucking moment of every gut wrenching day.

   He lets the sting soothe him as he taps his thumb mindlessly against the glass, staring at endless paperwork that keeps piling like someone else will do it. But he lets it sit and sit until the words start to blur on the page, until he’s completely numb from the traces of your last words you ever said to him.

   Maybe you could give me that guitar lesson… 

   And he just fucking drove off and left you all alone without so much as one word to soothe you over. He’s a fucking asshole, but what could he say? You don’t want him like he so desperately wants you. But he really thought you did… he was fucking wrong.

   He flips his phone back and forth in his palm, lighting up the screen just long enough to stare at your name and the message button that seems to burn through his eyes. He sighs and lets the phone fall to the desk, turning it face down so he can’t see your name as the pain sets like fire in his chest. 

   He groans, fisting his disheveled curls through his fingers as he leans his elbows against the covered desk, quietly cursing as he fights to grab his phone and hit the call button. But then he remembers that you don’t want him. Not like he wants you.

   He lets out a growl, numbing his mind a little more with the poison he feeds himself, letting lies run rampant through his mind as he fights to see where he went wrong. He thought you wanted him, wanted more. Where the fuck did he go wrong?

   He’s so deep in his racing thoughts that he barely hears the door handle jiggle, almost missing his brother that slips in out of the blaring noise of the club.

   “Uhh, Joel? You alright there, brother? You’re not lookin’ so hot,” Tommy says slowly as he paces cautiously up to the edge of the mahogany desk. 

   “I’m fine,” he bites out, a little too harsh as his clipped tone makes Tommy’s mouth tighten.

   “If you say so.” He threads his fingers through his greasy black hair that’s slicked back with gel and nods at the messy pile. “You a little behind on paperwork?”

   Joel scowls as he clenches his jaw. “I’ll get to it. Jus’ had some other shit come up.” He’s not meaning to come off angry, but that’s what he is. Angry, hurt, shocked, torn apart. Fuck. One girl and his entire world goes to shit.

   “You need some help with it?” He nods to the pile again and crosses his arms over his button-up long sleeved black shirt. 

   “No, I think I can handle it.” But can he really handle it? Not at all.

   “Oh okay…” He presses into the back of his leather cowboy boots and shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Well, the boys are here waitin’.”

   Joel’s eyes fall as he realizes today is Thursday. The day carved out to play pool with his friends. “Shit, I totally forgot,” he groans, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes as if he can get rid of the pounding headache that’s taking over his body.

   “You never forget. Joel, are you sure you’re okay?” Tommy’s dark eyebrows are furrowed together as his wide brown eyes edge with concern. 

   “I’m… I’m fine, Tommy,” he answers defeatedly as he lies through his teeth. 

   Tommy sees right through him, and it doesn’t take him long to realize just why he’s so fucked up in the head right now. “Hey, I haven’t seen that girl around lately. You know, the really pretty, sweet one? The one whose eyes light up when she’s near you.”

   Joel sighs and closes his eyes for a breath of a second, his stomach dropping to the floor as he sucks in a painful breath. “She… no. Haven’t talked to her lately, Tommy.”

   “Oh.” Joel hears the disappointment clearly in his tone, and he really doesn't want to explain just why he hasn’t talked to you. It’s too… painful. “You wanna talk about it?”

   “No. Jus’ drop it.” His voice comes out clipped, and he has no strength to even apologize for being so short with Tommy. 

   “Alright, alright. I won’t ask.” He raises his hands in defeat and knocks on the edge of the desk. “You wanna come play pool? Maybe have another drink?”

   Joel shakes his head no and sighs deeply. “Not tonight, Tommy. Maybe next week.”

   Tommy decides to leave it at that, promising to tell the boys he’ll try his best to make it next week. Joel doesn’t say a word, just lets Tommy believe he’ll be feeling better by then, but he knows he won’t. He’ll still be this. 

   Before Tommy leaves, he peeks his head over his shoulder and tries to comfort Joel the best he knows how. “Hey, if you ever wanna talk, my door is always open. Whenever, night or day. I’m here for you.” Joel just nods and lets his brother fade through the door, closing it as silence takes over his lonely office again.

   He pulls his phone out again, flipping through his contacts until he sees your name scrawled on the screen, except in your place is the word Angel with a little halo emoji right next to it. He suddenly breaks, fingers clenching the edges of the phone so tight that it falls to the floor, making your name disappear from his line of sight as his phone goes dead.

   Angry, hot tears brim over his eyeline, and then he’s losing all self control as the bitter taste of regret sinks in. He stands up and pushes the overwhelming pile of paperwork to the floor, throwing the whiskey glass at the wall as glass shatters and liquid falls down the black wallpaper. He sends the lamp over the edge next, hearing it crack as his heart breaks just like the pieces of broken glass that litters against the polished floors.

   He screams bloody murder as the feeling of pain overwhelms his insides, but the bumping music outside of the room mutes his cries. He topples in the chair, almost gouging his eyes out as his palms press firmly into his eyes, letting the hot tears roll down his sunken face.

   He can’t do this. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. He didn’t plan on falling for you, but he fell harder than he’s ever fallen. And goddamn it, he never meant to fall in love with you, but he did and look where that left him. 

   Alone and heartbroken.

   But that’s what happens in continuous hookups where lines are blurred and no boundaries get set. People end up hurt or attached or fall hopelessly in love. And he did, all of those. But he never thought it could ever hurt this bad.

   All he wanted since the moment he met you was you. And now, you were just the dark silhouette sitting in the corner of his office. A ghost that never should’ve faded away. But look at you now, just gone, like your deep red lips he never even got to kiss, but god, he wishes he would’ve gotten to taste those sweet lips that probably taste like honey. He’ll regret it until the day he dies.

   He should’ve fucking known better than to let it go this far, but it did. And now? He’s lost you for good.

  Two weeks go by and you hear nothing from Joel. You send a couple of texts, each very short. You talk yourself out of it, but you at least need to try. The only kind of response you get is the texting bubbles that shortly disappear after leaving you on read.

   You walk around in a daze, everything foggy and blurry as you fight to even keep upright most days. You fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to you all because you were scared to be hurt again. But where did that get you? It just left you devastated and more hurt than you could’ve possibly imagined. 

   You lose sleep, can barely tolerate the blinding sunlight that reminds you of that damn smile that you probably won’t get to ever see again. You should’ve kissed him, should’ve told him how you felt, should’ve told him about your past you really didn’t want to bring up again, but you were so fucking broken that you couldn’t manage to do any one of those things. 

   What would your therapist say to all of this? She’d probably scold you and shove more medications at you that you refuse to take. But what’s worse? Not feeling anything or reliving this insufferable pain day after day all because you couldn’t make your words or actions work.

   Jesus, you’re a real piece of work. Joel was lucky he got out when he did. You’re such a fucking mess, but you’re an even bigger mess without him.

   You stare at the text thread between you and Joel, mindlessly looking for any life behind that screen, reaching for just an ounce of reassurance that he isn’t really gone, but you get none. He’s gone. 

   The unanswered texts start to blur as tears fill your eyes, and then the panic sets in. The inevitable fear of abandonment and loss hits you like a blinding lightning strike, and then the anxious thoughts and debilitating emotional turmoil takes a hit. Joel isn’t coming back for you.

   You click Brianna’s number so fast that you drop your phone and pick it up frantically, fumbling with the flimsy case until you have enough of a hold on it that you start to hyperventilate.

   Pick up, pick up, pick up.

   Just when you think she’ll let it go to voicemail, she answers with a giddy ring to her voice. “Hey, stranger! You’ve been quiet lately. What’s up? You wanna go out tonight?”

   “Bri, I fucked up. I fucked everything up!” Your voice cracks, and the tears start to fall like raindrops down your skin. You can barely hold the phone to your ear because your hand is shaking so badly.

   “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there. Breathe. What happened?”

   “He… Joel… I…” You can’t even form a coherent sentence because you’re stumbling over your own racing thoughts, and your breathing is almost nonexistent. You’re just a shuddering mess.

   “Hey, calm down. Babe, can you tell me what happened?” Her voice is patient, but you know she’s freaking out on the end of the line because you hear her car keys jingle in her hand. 

   “I… fuck, Bri. I blew it. He left… the questions… I couldn’t…”

   “Listen to me. Do you need me to come over?”

   “No, I’m… fine.” But you’re not fine, you’re far from it.

   “You’re not fucking fine. Did that asshole hurt you?”

   “No, just… no…”

   “Fuck it, I’m coming over. Be over in ten minutes.” The phone line goes dead, and all you hear is silence as you hold the phone to your ear, waiting for nothing as you freeze and collapse.

   You fall into the velvet couch and bring your knees to your chest, covering your eyes as you let the tears soak the material of your yoga pants, clinging to a reality that you just don’t want to deal with now. You don’t want to think about Joel, don’t want to think about how you haven’t heard from him in two weeks, don’t want to think about how fucking badly you want his strong arms around you, and you definitely don’t want to think about how you just ruined the one chance you had to keep the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

   You sink into the crevice of the couch, squeezing your eyes closed as tears ricochet down your eyelashes. You faintly hear the rain drizzle from your kitchen window, tapping against the glass like it hears your swallowed cries filling the empty room. It’s just you, the flickering vanilla candle, and your muted cries that fill the staggering silence of your space.

   And just when you think you’ve felt the worst, the grief consumes you as those sad brown eyes flicker in your spotty mind. A ghost of the past that haunts your every waking thoughts, and it just reminds you how wrong you went.

   Your fault, your fault, your fault.

   You’re so busy replaying the scenes from dinner that you barely hear the door being opened. You don’t even notice anyone’s here until Brianna is kneeling down in front of the couch, carefully pulling your knees down so she can look into your red-rimmed eyes. 

   She places a hand gently on your knee, giving you those sad brown eyes that remind you a whole lot like how Joel looked after you ruined it all. Another tear drips down your cheek, and then she’s soothingly pressing her palm against your thigh. 

   “Hey, I’m here now.” Her voice is dulcet, and her familiar cotton candy perfume calms you down just like her soothing voice always does when you’re having a breakdown. And in these moments you’re just so lucky to have a friend like her that’ll drop everything just to make sure you’re okay.

   “Hi.” Your voice cracks, and you hear a quiet sigh that sounds a lot like genuine sympathy for you. 

   “You wanna talk about it?” She asks in a somber tone, one that’s not pulling for information, just someone that wants to let you decide what you’re comfortable with talking about.

   You slowly nod your head as another tear falls from your tainted face. “When Joel took me out for dinner, he asked what we were, what we were doing. And I… I fucked up. I told him we were just having fun, that none of this was serious. And then… then…” You clench your jaw and fist your fingers into the sunken couch, trying to catch your breath to finish, but Brianna cuts in.

   “Oh, babe. No.” Her blonde curls fall into her gentle face, and her light brown eyes glimmer with sympathy as she realizes why you were so worked up over the phone.

   Your face falls, and you fight to get the rest of the words out through your gritted teeth. “You should’ve seen how wrecked he looked when I answered, Bri. It was… I never thought looking into a man’s eyes would break me, but that did. He looked so sad…” Your fumbled words deceive you as you break into a sob, Brianna quickly brushing a tear away as she meets your deep red eyes.

   “I’m so sorry, babe. Have you… has he talked to you since?” She asks hesitantly.

   You shake your head and let your gaze drop to the carpeted floor. “No. I tried texting him a couple times, but he just left me on read…”

   The room grows silent for a minute as Brianna’s brown eyes gaze up at you, her golden locks shining in the glimmer of the faint light from the dark fluffy clouds outside. She takes a beat to figure out what she wants to say and when she does, it’s like a soft hug that folds across your entire body. “I think… I think he might be hurting just as bad as you right now. And maybe, just maybe he needed a little space to sort out his feelings? Because from the sounds of it, I think he wanted it to be more. I think he likes you a lot.”

   You purse your lips and flick your eyes back to her, trying to shift through her words as they ring bells in your mind. “You really think he wanted more?”

   She nods her head and places a warm palm over your shaky fingers. “I know he did.” 

   Those words just make you shake and start to sob all over as you let messy words spill from your parted lips. “Bri, I wanted to tell him so badly how I felt. How I wanted it to be more, how he’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That he… makes me feel safe and wanted.”

   “Oh, babe,” she sighs sympathetically. “Look, you’ve been through some of the roughest shit I’ve ever seen, but you know what? You’re the strongest, most empathetic, sweetest friend I’ve ever met in my entire existence. And he’d be so lucky to have you.”

   “But he doesn’t want me anymore!” Your voice tethers through the room like a broken record, and you fight to stay composed.

   “You sure about that?” She cocks her head and gives you that look that says you’re absolutely wrong.

   “He won’t talk to me, Bri. And the way he left… well… it sounded like he was saying goodbye.” You hold your breath and wait for the backlash she’s about to give you, but it never comes. There’s only soft words that numb your heavy brain.

   “Hey. Let me ask you this, do you want to be with him?”

   “Bri…”

   “Just answer me, okay? Do you want him?” She emphasizes the word want, and her doe eyes glaze up at you with pure softness.

   You gulp and let the word fall dry. “Yes.”

   “Then you’re going to get him back,” she smiles, her glittery pink lips curling into warmth.

   “What?” Your eyes blow wide, and your hands fall straight to your sides.

   “Tomorrow you’re going to walk into that club, and you’re going to tell him exactly how you feel,” she said adamantly.

   “No, Bri. I can’t. I…”

   She holds up a palm and nods. “You can, babe. I know how much you like him; I can tell by the glow in your eyes every time you talk about him, and your smile? I haven’t seen you that happy in a few years. You’re positively radiant, just like you should be.”

   You sigh and shake your head distraughtly. “I was happy until I went and fucked it all up,” you mumble under your breath.

   She dips her fingers under your chin and pulls your eyes up to meet hers. “He’d be foolish not to listen to you and take you back, babe. Just trust me on this, okay? He still wants you. I know he does.”

   “How do you know?” You mutter out with pursed lips.

   “I just have this feeling, okay? You can do this, you will do this. I know you can.” Her smooth voice is so confident in you that you almost believe her. Maybe you can do this, but you have a feeling you’ll just fall and get left behind again.

   You curl your lips into a small smile and wipe the last of the tears away with the back of your hand. “Thanks for making me feel a little better, Bri. You’re a really great friend.” You give her hand a tight squeeze and show her just how much she means to you.

   She scoffs and flips her golden hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, don’t you get all sappy on me. Come on. I’m taking you to get ice cream.” She tugs you off the couch and drags you through the front door, not even bothering to let you grab your card. “This one’s on me, babe. Let’s forget about men and go soak in some sugary goodness tonight.”

   “Sounds good to me,” you smile as she leads you down the winding sidewalk. 

   Maybe she’s right, maybe you can do this, after all. But the fear grabs a hold of your throat and holds back any faith you have in yourself. You’re going to fucking choke and ruin it all again. But you have to try because living without him isn’t something you even want to think about.    

You don’t want to be without him because you’re pretty sure you’re in love with him.

[addisonnie]

Baptize in Your Thighs

summary: Ellie doesn’t go to church. But when she does, it’s for the preacher’s daughter.

warnings: swearing, SMUT, fingering, oral, daddy kink (SORRY,) lowkey mean!ellie, dom/sub, religious mentions, talks of god, slight mentions of homophobia but hardly, let me know if I missed anything ALSO not proofread per usual sorry can’t be bothered!

an: surprise you dirty little dogs. im also a dirty little dog because what the FUCK is this. what did i just do? anyways time to do my homework now! enjoy you filthy little sluts

—————

Ellie doesn’t particularly believe in God. She doesn’t read the Bible, she doesn’t pray, and she certainly doesn’t go to church.

Yet, here she is.

The stained glass windows cast a rainbow haze over her skin, the freckles dotting her face twinkle under the glow. People slowly begin to fill in the pews surrounding her and she plays with the mini Bible placed in the wooden pocket of the seat in front of her. She looks out of place, feels out of place. People like her are usually struck by lightning the second they walk through those goddamn wooden doors— probably not the best time to use the Lord’s name in vain.

She’s gay, she’s grumpy, she’s occasionally mean. So, why is she here?

You. The preacher’s sweeter-than-a-peach daughter. Your smile is contagious, your laugh is precious, and Jesus Christ—again, not the best time— you have got to be one of the most alluring girls Ellie has ever seen. A floral dress hugs your waist beautifully and stops right above the middle of your supple thighs, tan pantyhose run up your legs and Ellie coughs into her hand when she accidentally makes eye contact with you.

You smile, of course you do. It’s nothing more than a formality your family forced upon you to keep raking in more church-goers—because who wants to attend a church run by an asshole family. Ellie smiles back before looking at her hands splayed across her thighs. She notices the click-clack of your kitten heels as you approach her pew, refusing to look up, she plays with the rip in her jeans.

“Is someone sitting here? With you.” Your saccharine voice floats through Ellie’s ears and wraps around her eardrum like a vice.

“No, go ahead.” She nods toward the open space next to her and you smile before sitting down and sliding closer to her. Your small hands smooth over your dress before you turn to face her, “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you a new member?”

Ellie has to hold back an eye roll—‘member?’ What is this? A cult?

“Just decided to finally come today. I usually don’t like getting up early on my days off.” You laugh and smile brightly at her, “I’m the same way. My daddy has to practically kick my door down to get me awake Sunday mornings.”

You’ve got a sweet little southern accent and Ellie feels herself growing aroused at the innocent aura weaved in every word you speak. She wonders if you’ve ever been aroused like this before.

Ellie notices you’re about to speak again before your father walks up onto the stage and begins his sermon. Immediately, your attention is brought to him and she sighs at the loss. The pastor is droning on about sinners and that those who are lost in the darkness should look for the light, Christ.

She doesn’t care. Ellie is much more focused on the fact that your dress has ridden much farther up your thighs due to the fact that you’ve crossed your legs. Her eyes trail up and down your pantyhose-covered legs and she shivers, drawing your attention back to her.

“Are you alright?”

Ellie’s eyes dart to your face, “just feeling overwhelmed, is all.”

You nod before pursing your lips and squinting, Ellie panics for a moment, thinking you’ve seen straight through her.

“Come with me.” You stand up in the pew and reach your hand out for Ellie to grab, quickly dragging her through the row and to the front doors of the church.

Your mother stands there, hands on her hips.

“Now, just where do you think you’re going? Your father is not going to be pleased that you’re skipping his sermon.” A whine escapes your lips and you tug on Ellie’s hand.

“Mama, this is Ellie. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed. I think the Holy Ghost is reaching out to her! I’m gonna take her to the house and let her have one of our spare bibles. You’re the one always saying we should help those that are lost!”

Your mother curtly nods at you before turning to face Ellie, “well, Miss. Ellie. You’re in good hands! I hope my daughter helps you work through your feelings. It’ll only lead to a healthier relationship with Christ.”

Ellie smiles and thanks her, in her head she’s rolling her eyes and telling your mom to fuck off. If anything, you’re the one in good hands. Ellie wants nothing more than to coax another whine from your plump, glossy lips.

Your hand is grasped in Ellie’s while you drag her across the dirt-filled church parking lot and into an old Victorian style home about a yard away from the side of the church. A couple cats sunbathe on the front porch and you happily greet them as you drag Ellie up the stairs and into your house.

It smells really nice. It’s creepy as fuck, though. The only thing she can really focus on are the abundance of crosses littering the walls. Who needs that many crosses? Do you beat intruders with them? Do they keep the demons away? Ellie shudders when she realizes that she’s probably the very thing they want casted out of her house.

“We can head up to my room, I’ve got a couple bibles there. You can have one, if you’d like!” There’s that sweet little voice again.

You pull her up the stairs and quickly lead her to your room. It’s exactly what Ellie expected. Pink toile wallpaper, a precious white bed frame, and a fluffy white comforter topped with way too many decorative pillows. A Bible lay open atop your bed, colorful markings and annotations scatter across the pages.

“Sorry! S’a bit of a mess, I don’t usually have people in my room. Mama and daddy don’t like it.”

Your mom and dad won’t like what Ellie is thinking about doing, either.

The two of you sit criss-cross on the bed and your nimble fingers quickly reach out to grasp at your Bible, “so, today my daddy’s sermon was meant to be about temptation. We can start there.”

How ironic. Temptation.

“How do you keep from giving into it? Temptation, that is?” Ellie leans in to be closer to your body, you look at her with wide eyes.

“I just—I usually just pray.”

Ellie smirks, “yeah? Does that make it go away?”

You push a stray strand of hair behind your ear and frown slightly, confused.

“Make what go away?”

God, you look so innocent like this. Big doe eyes staring up into Ellie’s, your legs crossed out in front of you. It’s sinful.

“Those butterflies you get in your tummy. The ones that make you feel funny.” She’s trying to dance around the topic of general horniness rather than just straight up asking if you touch yourself. Speaking to you about this is difficult, you’re a butterfly on a stray flower, and if Ellie jumps in too quickly, she’ll startle you and run you off.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” You’re wiggling under her intense stare and a soft blush begins to bloom over the apples of your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, I think you do. Tell me what you do when you get that feeling.” Ellie leans in much closer to you, her minty breath fans over your face and she doesn’t miss the part when you clench your soft thighs together.

“Hebrews 13:4.” Ellie scoffs and swats at your knee, “that’s not what I’m asking you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and huff out a breath, “Ellie. I’m trying to help you here. You wanna know what I do? I read the Bible and pray that God will rid me of those sinful feelings.”

And then Ellie is leaning closer, both her hands resting on your thighs, “are you going to pray right now? Ask God to get rid of that wet feeling in your panties? Ask him to smite me where I stand, hm?”

A bright red blush spans across your cheeks and you can’t bear to look at Ellie. She tuts, “look at me, angel.”

It’s ironic that she’s calling you angel when you feel like the complete opposite. The feeling of your cotton panties sliding against your sticky folds is enough to make you feel like the spawn of Satan himself. And to feel this way about a woman? You don’t even want to think about the repercussions of that.

“I touch myself. At night—after they’re asleep.” Ellie grins and squeezes your flesh between her fingers, “you’re a bad girl. What else do you do?”

A whine escapes your lips while you shove at Ellie’s calloused hands, “I can’t.”

Her face drops and she moves a hand up to squeeze your jaw in between her fingers, “you can. Tell me—better yet, why don’t you show me, angel?”

A gasp slides out of your mouth and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, “I—what! No! Ellie, I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Her unoccupied hand slowly trails toward the hem of your dress, “I thought you were supposed to be a good girl? Sweet little pastor’s daughter can’t follow simple instructions?”

You whimper, “M’a good girl.”

“Then act like one.”

Her hand releases your jaw and she smirks when she watches you inch backward on your bed until you’re resting against the headboard. Your legs are crossed in front of you and Ellie gives you a moment to uncross them before she grabs your ankles to spread your legs.

“Go on, then.”

Your fingers slowly raise the hem of your dress until it pools around your tummy and Ellie sucks in a breath when she sees your flowery pink panties underneath your pantyhose. One hand travels underneath the elastic of your underwear and a soft whimper leaves your parted lips when the pad of your fingertip ghosts over your clit.

Ellie can’t see your pussy through your undergarments but she can clearly make out the little wet spot growing between your legs. She watches while your finger swirls in a circular motion under your panties and feels her own growing damper when you let out a soft moan.

“More, sweet girl. I know you can.” Ellie is leaning back on her hands while she watches your hand speed up, you choke out a pathetic whine while looking at her, “can’t, Ellie!”

A deep frown settles across Ellie’s face after your outward denial, “fucking pathetic. Do I have to do it for you? Hm? Is that what you want?”

Your hand slides out from under your panties and you shimmy down on the bed and spread your legs to be bent on either side of her body.

“Does your daddy know how much of a filthy little slut you are?” She’s crawling up the bed until she’s sitting on her knees in front of you, one arm on either side of your head. You whimper and jut your hips out toward her.

A simple phrase passes through her lips, one that has you sucking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shut, “beg.”

“Please.” It’s a pathetic attempt at begging, but you were raised to always be polite, at least you said please.

She leans forward on her hands and quickly moves one of her legs forward to shove straight into your core, grinding roughly onto your puffy clit.

You let out a soft moan and clutch onto her bicep, “I said fucking beg. I wanna hear you pray for me like the good little church girl you are.”

She surges forward and immediately presses her lips onto yours in a messy kiss. Her lips are soft yet chapped, a clear juxtaposition to the supple, cherry-flavored skin of your pouty lips. Ellie doesn’t even give you a chance to deny her tongue before she’s prying your mouth open with her lips, immediately sliding the wet muscle into your awaiting mouth. The harshness of her jeans continually ruts into your clit and she doesn’t plan on giving you any more until she hears that prayer fall from your lips. Fingers are digging into her biceps and she has half a mind to complain when you finally pull back, “please touch me. Please, please. I’ll be a good girl—fuck. Please.”

Hearing the naughty word slip from your sweet lips has Ellie chuckling, “atta girl.”

She immediately sits back on her knees before running her hands up and down your spread thighs, the wet spot on your panties only growing more prominent. Her fingers reach your core and you whimper for the thousandth time, she bunches the material of your pantyhose and rips the fabric apart at the seam, leaving an open hole directly to your underwear.

“Ellie!” She grunts and gives you a sour look before attaching her lips to yours again. Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears while Ellie kisses you, spit is trailing down your chin and onto the valley of your breasts as Ellie fumbles with the soft material of your panties.

Sliding them to the side, she runs the pad of her pointer finger along your cunt, eliciting a gasp from you. Her finger dances over your folds and circles around your clit a few times before she trails back down to your hole, slowly pressing a finger inside.

“Oh—fuck! Ellie, please.”

She moves to kiss down the column of your throat while she slowly pulls her finger out, pushing it back in again.

“Better than your tiny fingers, hm, baby?” You nod and move a hand down to tug at her wrist, “more.”

Ellie moves her head away from your neck and scowls, “where have your manners gone?”

Tears are beginning to fill your doe eyes and for a minute Ellie feels bad for having such an attitude with you, but not bad enough to stop.

“Please. I want more of you.” That’s enough for her it seems, she slides her second finger in knuckle deep moans at the feeling of you digging your nails into her toned arms.

Her fingers quickly move in and out of your pussy, scissoring and twisting inside of you. You’re moaning, but quietly; Ellie doesn’t like that.

“Let me fucking hear you, sweet girl. Don’t be shy.” She speeds up the movement of her fingers and soon slides in a third finger, twisting her wrist around to hit you at a different angle. Her other arm moves to lift your leg onto her shoulder and the new angle has you releasing a borderline pornographic moan. It’s loud, and for a second you’re worried the church across the driveway heard it.

Her thumb repositions to quickly swipe over and circle at your clit. Your toes curl over Ellie’s shoulder and she listens to you squeak and cry out from under her. Teeth sink into your calf resting upon her shoulder and another loud moan slides from your parted lips when you feel Ellie harshly bite down on the skin and slide her tongue across the indention.

She feels you clenching religiously around her fingers and watches in awe as your wetness seeps into the palm of her hand and puddles on your pristine comforter.

“Close, baby?”

You whine in response and Ellie quickly halts her motions and slides her fingers out, “too bad.”

Your soft eyes full with tears and you slam your head backwards onto the pillow behind you, “fuck! Just—please, Ellie! Please please please—“

A harsh slap onto your pussy sends your hips jolting upward and your head flying forward. You whimper from the pain “m’sorry.”

“Rule number one. You only cum when I say you can. Got it, slut?” She delivers another harsh slap onto your clit and you arch your back in an attempt to be closer to her, “yes.”

She tuts, “yes, what?”

A confused look crosses your sweet face and you whine, shuffling your hips downward in hopes of some form of contact, “yes, Ellie?”

Another slap to your cunt, “ah—fuck! Yes! Yes, daddy!”

She smirks before lifting your other leg to rest on her shoulder, moving down on the bed until her face is settled in between your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You sound genuinely confused, which only confuses Ellie. Certainly you know what head is, right?

“M’gonna eat this pretty little pussy, baby. You want that?” She can practically hear you gulp. Your head nods and both of your hands slide to rest on top of her head.

Ellie leans in to pull your panties further to the side, pressing a chaste kiss right onto your clit, “oh my—“ you cut yourself off before you can say His name.

She smirks, “say it.”

And then she’s licking a long stripe up the expanse of your cunt, only stopping to suckle at your clit. Her tongue darts around in several circles before she finally fully takes your clit into her mouth and sucks harshly, “oh my God!”

She smirks into your pussy before moving her hand back up to slide knuckle-deep into your cunt again. Her long fingers piston in and out of your slick core while she hums and sucks on your clit. Fingers are digging into her scalp and yanking at her hair, your heels are digging into her back, and ear-shattering moans are diving out of your mouth.

Ellie does believe in God, because this, this is heaven.

She feels you constricting so hard around her fingers that it’s starting to get difficult to continually fuck in and out of you, her bicep is burning from the amount of effort she’s putting into getting you there.

“Daddy—fuck, please. M’so close. Please please please.” You’re babbling at this point, and Ellie is pretty sure you’ve literally never came before because she didn’t even edge you for that long and you’ve already got tears streaming down your round cheeks and onto your neck.

She moans onto your clit before slightly pulling away, “good girl, you can come.”

That’s all it takes, the vibration of Ellie’s words send shockwaves through your clit and immediately you’re seeing stars, clenching down onto Ellie’s fingers like a vice. She fucks you through it, she doesn’t stop, either.

Her mouth continues to suck on your clit long after you’ve come, and her fingers are still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Oh! Please—please, can’t do more.”

Her teeth graze over your puffy clit, “yes you fucking can, roll over.”

She pulls away just long enough for you to roll over onto your tummy, “face down. Gonna have you on your knees praying for me to stop.”

Your face is mashed into the pillows and Ellie uses her knee to shove your legs further apart, her large hands immediately move to spread your pussy apart and she licks a long stripe from your clit to your tighter hole.

“Fucking shit! Fuck fuck fuck!” The filthy words pass through your lips like nothing, and Ellie almost laughs at the idea of the sweetest girl in the world having such a foul mouth. She moves back down to stuff her tongue into your pussy, sliding the wet muscle in and out, licking and sucking on your folds like a woman starved.

You’re babbling and sobbing into your pillowcase, begging for literally anything. Ellie keeps her mouth connected to your pussy, but moves both of her hands to grip the globes of your ass and quickly spreads them. One hand stays planted on your ass, the other trails upward until her thumb rests over your tight hole, pressing in slightly before circling around it. She uses her previous spit as lube before slowly sliding her thumb into your ass, leaving it there while she licks on your cunt.

A sob erupts from your lips and immediately you’re rocking back and forth on her face, “good fucking girl. Use me, baby.”

Her thumb slides farther into your ass and before you know it, she’s sliding her other hand to meet it. She presses in her second thumb and you squeal, clenching around her fingers.

With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hits like a truck. Your juices leak down Ellie’s chin and spurt out onto her cheeks, effectively covering her face with you. It’s deliciously sweet and Ellie happily laps up everything that drips from your pussy lips, slurping and gurgling like a feral animal.

She pulls away from your cunt and turns her face to the side, rubbing your juices onto her clothed shoulder. Her thumbs stay planted in your ass and she lightly pulls her thumbs apart, spreading you open.

“Fuck—fuck. No more. No!”

Ellie chuckles and decides to remove her fingers. She watches your knees buckle and you drop fully onto your bed, shaking and whimpering, “oh my God. Oh my God.”

You keep repeating it. Over and over.

“It’s actually Ellie. But, I told you I’d have you praying for me instead.”

You grunt into the pillow case and Ellie laughs, moving to rub her hand soothingly up and down the expanse of your back. She presses a kiss between your shoulder blades and helps you slide your shredded pantyhose down your legs along with your underwear.

Your dress is still bunched up around your chest and Ellie rugs the fabric down to cover your ass after pressing a kiss to the plump skin.

Just as she slides your dress fully back down, a knock sounds at your bedroom door, “honey? It’s dad. The sermon is over and I’m heading back to the church for the potluck. Are you coming?”

Ellie squeezes the flesh of your thighs in warning, “no, daddy. I’m staying here, don’t feel—ah, don’t feel good.”

Her fingers drift over your puffy lips while she listens to you answer your father outside the door, “okay, honey.”

His footsteps clank down the stairs and Ellie waits to hear the front door slam before she whispers in your ear, “I don’t think I’m done with my sermon yet.”

[fictionandfixation]

Older Bachelor headcanons!

Older Bachelor stardew headcanons because I’ve been playing lots recently! All sfw, some mentions of smoking/alcohol 💕 also please bear in mind I am no SDV expert, so sorry if these go against canon occasionally!

Harvey ☕️🔬📚

• Secret smoking habit that he would rather die than tell anyone about. Not often, but during flu season when he’s stressed, you can find him cooped up in his room with an imported cigar or a Marlboro Gold, an espresso and an Agatha Christie.

• Plays classic soul, funk, golden oldies and jazz in the foyer of the clinic on an old-timey record player, and chooses every day from his large record collection. Frequently irritates Maru with the extent of his Doris Day enjoyment.

• Kind of wide-set - very broad shoulders, and quite tall.

• Packets of salted peanuts and cookies on the clinic foyer desk which he restocks every week.

• Goes to fetch you personally from the mines or Skull Cavern sometimes when you get knocked out. And he also keeps a vintage forest green car behind the clinic to pick you up in. He hopes one day you’ll wake up on the way back and compliment his tasteful vehicle choice or notice he’s bringing you home. You don’t.

• Best friends with Evelyn. Worst enemies with George.

• Tennis player. Plays with whoever will say yes in the mountains and always manages to punt the ball into the lake somehow. Also used to be in a rock climbing club at university, and has sort of sinewy forearms as a result.

• Outrageous flirt after a few glasses of Pinot Noir, mostly because I think he’s on the spectrum but also because I think it would help him stop being quite so nervous.

• Brown suspenders. Every. Single. Day.

• Gives Jas and Vincent candy after their checkup.

• “Sweetheart/honey” as a nickname for you.

Elliott 📜🖋️🐚

• Striped. Matching. Pajamas.

• Finds, forages and cooks mussels when he needs to impress someone. And on that note, very much a French cuisine enjoyer.

• If blue cheese has no fans Elliott is dead.

• Rizz master. Silver tongue. Read so much romance when he was a teenager that it has actively become a part of his personality to be a book boyfriend.

• Very willowy and slender. Metabolism of the gods. Puts away food like it’s nobody’s business.

• Can read several languages, but just can’t master an accent so never uses them in a spoken context. Definitely a student of Latin.

• English accent headcanon! Probably spent the first couple of decades of his life in somewhere high-income like Warwickshire, or (more likely) Cornwall or Exeter, on or near the coast. I am also envisioning him as having been to an old collegiate university like Durham, or maybe a college at Oxford (Merton I reckon).

• Writes and then burns poems about everyone he’s ever been in love with. Starts keeping them when he meets you.

• Chats fashion history with Emily and Haley.

• Religious about his collection of cravat-style ties because he’s seen the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice a few too many times.

• Frequent book club gatherings with Caroline, Marnie, Robin and Jodi (mostly because mothers love him, the main selling point here being that he has definitely read at least one Jodi Picoult book. He does not remember anything about it, he’s just glad to be invited).

“Dearest/my love” as a pet name.

Shane 🍺🍕🐓

• Snores. Very quiet about it though.

• I know a lot of people HC Harvey as oldest but I reckon it’s Shane. He also acts the most like a bitter old man whereas I feel Harvey is just ‘mature’.

• Could be convinced to grow a beard. Maybe.

• Goes for a jog three times a week. Hates it. Refuses to stop and really isn’t even sure why he does it himself any more.

• Secret Lana Del Rey enjoyer. Mainly a fan of Midwest emo, classic rock, nu metal and sometimes country but the kind of country where they sing about killing people and getting away with it.

• Raised by heavily Christian parents in the Deep South. Yes this is a Southern accent headcanon. Yeehaw.

• Lets Jas put eyeshadow on him sometimes. Shaves properly only when she wants to put makeup on him.

• Craft beer’s number one opp. Wants an ice cold tap Budweiser only, and if there isn’t enough head on it he will be asking for a refund. Not that Gus would ever do that to him.

• Has muscle with padding. Very strong, very wide in stature, but not lean at all. Biceps wider than your neck that you could (and would) use as pillows.

• Makes the most insane hangover breakfast known to man. Bacon. Pancakes. Sausage. Home fries. Butter. Syrup. You’re putting on a bit of healthy relationship weight for sure with Shane as your partner.

• “Darlin’/baby” user. “Sweet cheeks” as a joke. Kind of a joke.

Hope you guys enjoyed these!! I am down irretrievable for Older Bachelor content because I love ✨older men✨

Please let me know if you’d like some more for these characters or the other bachelors and bachelorettes!

[spidcrhunni]

day out

hobie brown/reader

summary: you go somewhere with hobie.

tags: can be read as romantic or platonic it’s up to you!!!, sweet! hobie, nicknames, skipping school, mild arguments/harassment (it’s very small)

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [spidcrhunni!!] ࿐ྂ

your laughter bounces down the alleyway as hobie pulls you along by your hand. skipping school was always exhilarating as you didn’t do it very often, not wanting to be scolded by your parents. the two of you slow to a jog, and eventually into a walk as you both continue laughing softly. “c’mon, i need some food.” hobie pulls his hand from yours, stretching his arms overhead. “fine, fine. as long as you promise we won’t get caught.” you reply, following your best friend down to a nearby old-fashioned looking diner that had set up a week prior. “i thought you were gonna ask me to pay.” he jokes, grinning at you. “that too.” you wink playfully, listening as he laughs. “fine, fine. i’ll pay.”

hobie opens the door for you, letting you enter first. scoping the diner, you don’t recognise anyone immediately, so you nod to hobie who enters as well. a waitress smiles, walking over. “hi there! go sit down and i’ll be with you in a moment.” she greets. she’s older than you and hobie, eyes warm and kind; almost motherly. her southern accent is sweet against your ears. “thanks.” you reply, leading hobie to a far booth, assuming that the further away from the door, the less likely someone would recognise the two of you. hobie sits down, looking around. “not bad here.” he comments, you hum. “i just hope the food’s good.” your words make hobie nod. “yeah, me too. i’ve got a good vibe from this place though.”

the waitress, who’s name tag read ‘jessie’, from before walks over, setting down two menus. “can i get you two anything to drink?” she asks, smiling politely. “i’ll take a coffee, black with two sugars.” hobie responds, adding on a quick ‘please’ as you nudge him under the table. she seems rather caught off guard by the strong request, yet nods, writing it down. “anything for you, darling?” she turns to you, pen ready. “i’ll have a vanilla milkshake, please.” you smile, watching her nod. “of course. i’ll be right back.” jessie turns, walking back to the counter. “she’s nice.” you quip, smiling at hobie. “mhm. almost creepy though. no one should be that happy.” he jokes, you snort softly. “c’mon, there’s nothing wrong with being that happy. it’s nice to see.”

the waitress soon comes back, accidentally interrupting your conversation about the english teacher both you and hobie shared. “thank you..!” you chirp as hobie nods. “no problem. decided on anything to eat?” she asks, glancing between you both. “i’ll have the waffles, please.” you smile, looking at hobie. “i’ll have to ask for the same- please.” he replies, sharing a small smile with you. “of course. i’ll be back in a jiff!” she leaves once more, you nudge hobie’s boot with your sneaker. “see, you can be nice.” you tease. “i am nice! to you anyway…” he responds, a joking frown on his face. you roll your eyes, sipping your milkshake. “you gonna share?” he jokes, drinking some of his coffee. “if i had two straws, yeah. besides, you have your coffee!” you laugh.

the door opening makes you both glance over. “oh fuck..!” hobie hides his face, turning to look out the window. you hide your own face behind a menu, hoping that the person wouldn’t recognise the two of you. that person being someone that also shared most of the classes that you two shared, benny. “fuck- fuck. what is he doing here?!” hobie whisper yells. “i don’t know..!” you respond, voice harsh yet low. footsteps trail over, you take a deep breath. “hobie- y/n, is that you?” he asks, voice snarky. the two of you stay silent, hoping he’d go away. “it is- i’d recognise that shitty jacket anywhere.” he quips towards your best friend, who turns, scowling. “what do you want, benny?” he asks, leaning back against the booth. you put the menu down after having your cover blown.

“nothing from you two. do you even have the money to pay for the stuff here?” he quips. hobie furrows his brows. “yes. unlike you, i work for my money, i don’t get dirty money from my daddy’s trust fund.” he sneers. “bart…” you sigh, pressing your foot against his ankle under the table to try and soothe him. “whatever, at least i don’t dress like a tramp-“ the harsh clacking of heels against the floor makes you all stop. jessie comes over. “is this guy bothering you honey?” she asks, mainly to you. “yeah, a little. it’s okay though-“ you try to console her, yet she turns to benny. “i won’t take any hassling of my patrons, thank you very much. i’ll have to ask you to leave.” she crosses her arms, clearly not intimidated by him. “what?” benny scoffs.

“you heard me, go one- get! consider yourself banned from maude’s diner!” she shoos benny out, who utters something about his father ‘doing something’ about the situation. hobie let’s out a laugh. “damn. seems like this will be our go to spot now.” he jokes, grinning at you. “seems like it.” you smile. jessie comes back a soft smile on her lips. “everything okay, sugar?” she asks, hands clasped together politely. “yes, thank you jessie.” you reply. “i’m glad. to make up for the altercation, your food’s on the house- courtesy of my wife, maude.” she smiles, hand pressing to her chest honestly. “oh- you don’t have to! we’re happy to pay.”

hobie pipes up. “y’mean i will be happy to pay.” he corrects, a teasing smile on his lips. you roll your eyes. jessie laughs softly at his words. “we insist, you two have been a delight. it’s been nice to hear laughter in our diner. gives the place some liveliness that we can’t recreate from our last diner in maude’s hometown- kansas was such a beautiful place.” she halts her chatter. “sorry about that- i’ll be right back with your food.” jessie smiles, turning around and leaving you two be. “she’s so sweet.” you beam, hobie nods. “yeah, like a nice aunt at a family gathering.” he agrees, yet less enthusiastically. you continue sipping your milkshake, happily talking to hobie.

jessie comes back, two plates of steaming waffles in her hands. “here you go. enjoy..! i’ll be over there if you need anything.” she coos, leaving you both be. “these look good.” hobie smiles, stomach audibly rumbling. you chuckle. “don’t start drooling.” you tease, kicking his foot. hobie kicks back, yet more gently to avoid hurting you as his boots had steel-toe caps. the two of you dig in, making conversation over your breakfast. you felt great; as always when you spent time with hobie. you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[taylormarieee]

~Girl, you don't know what you do to me~

Request: I have a TWD request. Rosita gives the reader a dress she found while out on a run and the reader wears it for rick and he fucks her in it. Maybe a bit of degrading if you're into that

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Degrading kink, Smut, PiV sex, Unprotected sex, Sex with plot, Sub/Dom Dynamic, that's it! Enjoy!

Rosita was a good friend of yours. Like the best. She always gave you tips on how to tease and impress a fellow member of the group that you were interested in.

Today was just like any other day. A group was going out on a run and Rosita happened to be in that group. You quickly ran down the street to go ask her about it.

"Where are y'all goin?" You ask, your cute southern accent coming out.

"On a run. Might go to a shop, market, or store. We'll probably be back in an hour or so because we don't have a lot of sunlight left." She responds.

"Oh ok, well if you do go to a shop, can you see if you can find me a cute sundress? A couple of girls 'ere are having a house party and I Don't have any more dresses left." You ask, squinting at the sunlight.

"Yea, sor sure. I got you girl!" She says patting your shoulder. You smile and smack her ass on the way out causing you both to laugh.

You walk down the street and notice a tall, dark, handsome brunette standing on the porch of your shared house.

You smile and wave at Rick, and he smirks and waves you over. You walk up the steps and meet him on the porch.

"Hey, sweetheart. Whatcha doin' hmm?" He asks in his deep southern accent that you always find attractive.

"Nun much! I just finished talkin' to Ro before she went on a run." You answer, with a small smile on your face.

He hums in approval and you nervously start playing with your gun holster on your thigh.

"So... What are you up to, officer!?" You ask with a chuckle. In return, you earn a laugh from the man in front of you.

"Oh sweetheart, ya always make me laugh. I was just looking around, just put Jude to sleep." He says.

"Ohhhh! Can I see her? Pretty please?!" You ask, holding your hands together and begging.

He chuckles and motions his head to the door. You squeal and run straight to the door and into Judith's room. You open the door and quietly make your way inside. You see her cute, tiny little body sleeping in the crib.

"Awww she's so cute!" You whisper.

"Just like you," Rick says. A little taken back you turn around to see Rick standing in the doorway staring at you with a big goofy smile plastered on his handsome face.

"Hmm. I'm not cute! Far from It actually." You say turning around to hold her hand.

"Well, I think you are cute, so you're cute." He says walking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.

You hum and melt. into his warm, loving touch. Oh, did I forget to mention? You're already dating? Thanks to Rosita? Oh well now you know.

You hold his arms and you both sway back and forth. You were about to turn and kiss him but were briefly interrupted by Michonne.

"Uh, Rick? OH... Sorry, am I interrupting something?" She asks.

You laugh a little, "No, no Michonne, Your not! Please take him, he's won't let me go!" You say laughing.

Michonne chuckles a bit and Rick bites your neck, signaling that he'll get you back later.

You laugh and kiss his hand as he walks away with Michonne to do his important duties.

About 20 minutes later, your in your room reading a book when Rosita comes knocking on your door.

"Come in!" You yell out.

"Look what I got!" She says holding up two sun dresses, your guessing one is for her and the other for you.

You jump up squealing as you go to hug her yelling out 'Thank you's'.

One is this really pretty yellow one with roses on it and the other is a really pretty green with sunflowers on it.

"I already called dibs on the green one so the yellow one is all yours!" She says with a smirk on her face.

"Thank you so much Ro! I love you!" You say grabbing the dress and hugging her one more time.

You both try them on and look in the mirror. "We look so hot!" She says.

You laugh at her comment and twirl.

You both walk out and grab the attention from almost every guy in Alexandria.

"I've gotta go. I have garden work I need to do!" You say walking towards the tool shed. "Oh ok, thats fine, I've got a class to teach anyway." She shouts from across the street.

You hold up a peace sign and she holds up a heart sign and you both part ways.

As you walk towards the tool shed you feel a pair of eyes on you but you don't bother to see who it is. Probably another boy or guy in Alexandria staring at you.

When you walk in and close the door behind you, you look for the supplies needed for gardening. You find the gloves and put them on the table.

Just as you are about to grab the hedge shears, the door opens and closes, locking behind whoever came in.

"I'll be out soon, just grabbing the last of my to-" You turn around to see a very angry Rick.

"Oh hi hunny! Are you ok? What happened?"You asked innocently.

You were messing. with him. You knew exactly why he was mad and why. he was in here. It's because of the dress. your wearing. Its showing off a little too much skin for his liking.

"You know why sweetheart." He says walking closer to you. His hands itching at his sides to reach out and grab you.

"I-I really don't Ricky." You say trying to hide your smirk. God what an actor you were. Acting like you didn't know what you were doing to him.

"Girl, you don't know what you do to me." He says lowly, his eyes darker than before.

He grabs you by you hips and kisses you. You instantly wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back passionately.

Rick flips you over and lifts up your drees.

"Bend over for me sweetheart. Wanna see that pretty little ass of yours mama." He says rubbing you ass through the dress.

You moan out and bend over for him. He groans as he pressed his erection on your ass, slowly grinding on you.

You hear the clink of his belt buckle and his pants hitting the floor. You feel his cock rubbing through your folds.

"Fuck princess, you feel so good. Can't wait to fuck you in this pretty little dress. Give you my babies." He whispers lustfully in you ear.

He shoves his cock inside you filling you up. You clench hard around his length. He doesn't even give you time to adjust before he's already slamming into you.

"Fuck mama, you keep squeezing me like that and I might not last!" He groans shoving his length further inside you with every deep thrust.

"ohhhh fuckk! Rick, please cum inside me! I want to carry y-your babies please!" You moan out. Drunk off his cock.

"Yea? You fucking slut. Look at you in this dress walking around, flaunting and showing off like a little whore." He says.

You clench around him at his dirty words and moan. His hips begin to get sloppier and his breathing starts to get heavier.

"C-Cum with me please! Please Rick, please!" You cry out feeling your orgasm approach.

"Ah- hah- Fuck! Ok sweetheart!" He breathes out.

Soon you both are drawing out moans and whining as you both cum. You both ride out your highs feeling euphoric and dizzy.

"You should wear this dress more often... especially if it's gonna end up with your legs shaking and my cum dripping down your thighs." He says with a smirk on his face.

Taglist: @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @murdadixon @daryldixmedown@darylscvmdumpster@darylspersonalwhore @carlsdarling @carlgrimesenthusiast @catt-leya @loveforcarl