#senior year core

[dreamertrilogys]

the raven boys / the greeting committee / the green knight / the raven king

[girlsinthestars]

Every couple except the core four staying together Riverdale said if y'all can't shut up about who is endgame then no one gets to have the endgame. Confiscated.

[favroitecrime]

nini wasn’t even there and wasn’t gonna be there but still sat down, wrote individual cards, and mailed them so they’d get there the day of the performance just to keep up her tradition. screaming crying that’s the sweetest baby in the world nini haters you’ll never experience love like this

[fagrackham]

cherry peel of montreal and violent femmes self titled + hallowed ground sound of the springtime

[flippedorbit]

my mom’s getting mad at me for wanting to do normal yearbook photos for my senior year instead of the normal one and then two or more that i wouldn’t want to do anyway

[iiheartsatoru]

I find myself reflecting on the routes i’ve taken to high-school. Where I live we start High-school in 8th grade and I’m now in my senior year. Throughout these 5 years the routes i’ve taken to school have changed drastically. I’ve moved houses and each year my transportation system looks different as well. The path to my destination has changed and so have I. People I was friends with in the very beginning of high-school are distant. My sense of self has completely altered and it’s largely due to covid. Covid caused me to expand my interests and shaped me into the very person I am as I’m typing this on a chilly November night. I can no longer walk to school within the span of ten minutes instead I bus for thirty. Somehow I still feel like that thirteen year old girl pre-covid but the directions I follow say otherwise.

[musicalanthrop]

First day of senior year! It doesn't feel real.

[aceys]

standing in my room absent-mindly drinking a four loko and scrolling through porn tumblrs in the five minutes before i have to leave for my night class

[miuamor]

stil thinking about that one time in class when we knocked on wood at 09:09 and the teacher was like personally offended and proceeded to give us a literal 15 min speech on how this was concerning behaviour and how the

"dark ones are playing with us"

(literally that's what she said lol)

[dreamertrilogys]

me + all my friends <i want! i want!>, walk the moon / wetsuit, the vaccines / people we meet on vacation, emily henry / portugal, walk the moon /ferris bueller’s day off / t-shirt weather, circa waves / the raven cycle, maggie stiefvater / is this it?, the greeting committee

[locallibrarylover]

cant wait for course selection !! (<- knows exactly what hes taking)

[rboooks]

The bakery is a front!...Right? Part 2

Danny can practically feel Peter's glare through the small window between the front counter and kitchen, trying to melt his ice core. He isn't sure what he did to earn the man's ire but it was getting sort of old after two weeks.

Peter's brother, who almost always steals food and drinks between customers, wasn't nearly as bad. Danny didn't mind the loss, as he is beyond rich that he could fund his own country; he just found it odd that Alvin tended to put whatever he stole in test tubes.

He used to seeing street kids' having sticky fingers, but not ones with this particular habit. If he hadn't witnessed Alvin taking an entire bagel and stuffing it into a ziplock bag after another filling another test tube with the ghost theme latte- it was just color dye green and the foam shaped into a blob ghost- he would thought the guy was gathering samples of his merchandise rather then stocking up on food. Not that he could blame him.

Not knowing where their next meal will come from makes it understandable that they horde any food they can. Yes, the pair of brothers were close to his age but they been on the streets since Peter was fifteen and Alvin was thirteen. They had apparently took off in the middle of the night after Alvin was violently outed and his scum of a father tried to break the gay out of him.

They haven't spoken much about their past besides that, but Danny didn't need any more information.

Alvin is remarkably good at taking things without anyone noticed.

The only reason Danny caught on to what he was doing was because this was his haunt, and his ghost side had growled in outrage the first time Alvin swiped some samples of various coffees. His human side just thought it was hilarious.

After a while, the part of him that was Phantom recognized the two as new members of his haunt and now purred whenever they took stuff. Phantom's desire to provide for those under his protection made it hard for Danny not to slip and purr or rub himself against people like a creepy cat.

Phantom also had this mysterious allure to humans. Sam and Tucker let him know after the three came across the Phan Club led by his old classmates. Paulina wanting to marry him wasn't a one-time thing. Almost all his classmates wanted to marry Phantom because a part of him influenced their attraction.

Halfas were like that.

Frostbite said halfas were close to sirens and that annoyed him more than anything.

His ghost side wasn't mansplain, manipulate but rather manwhore. At least with enough exposure, people developed immunity to his allure, so Danny ignored all the love-struck eyes made at him.

Danny still very clearly remembered coming back for his junior year, walking into the hallways and causing multiple jaws to drop.

Sam and he had broken up at the beginning of the summer, so she only blinked at his sudden appearance, but Tucker had been blindsided.

"Dude, don't take this the wrong way, but you look delicious"

Danny had fallen for him just a little for that alone.

The two of them dated all junior year with Sam's blessing but agreed they were better as friends by the end. It was awkward, but the three got past that, spending senior year snickering as various people tried to ask Danny out.

Danny was petty enough to admit he enjoyed turning them down, citing their past treatment of him as a "never going to happen". Breaking the hearts of the A-listers was a special kind of joy, especially Dash.

After taking the time with Elle to further develop his ghost side, he hadn't realized the big difference between him and the other halfas.

Vlad's accident case him to form over time, after getting ecto-acne, and the years he spent in the hospital were him repeatedly dying only to be brought back seconds after, by the ectoplasm forced into his face. It is no wonder he lost his sanity and became violently obsessed with his parents.

In the creation of Dan, Vlad's mind had finally been accessible to his human side again. The future Vlad was more mellow sure, has taken him in with a kind heart but that was because he had been more human then ghost. The ghost side no longer had his parents around so its vengeance was no longer needed ans it cleared up the maddness.

It was like his image of a human hand been painted over by his ghost. It didn't blend.

Jazz had realized this, and then after speaking to his parents, they vowed to help him. Surprisingly it worked, and now Vlad was not a fruitloop. Unfortunately he may be something far worse.

Vlad was now his parents' boyfriend. Ugh. It didn't help that it had been Vlad that given his parents a grant all these years, who had taken care of the family from afar, and that he was a gentle soul. Jack had named him godfather of his son because they grew up together and had always know the sweetheart hidden within.

His coming back from the dead madness had rekindled old feelings, and his mom admitted she had felt something for him too.

Ew.

Ellie was influenced by her ghost side too. She was a clone, but her core form first, and unlike the other failed clones, she was more like a ghost who learned to be human. She gave in more to her spirit urges, only really eating and sleeping because she thought they were fun. Her ghost was painted over by her human side, but it was a well balanced collage.

Danny was a single painting with two figures side by side.

Since his accident perfectly split his two parts his human side kept his ghostly influence at bay until he was about sixteen, where slowly but surely, he allowed his two pieces to start to fuse.

That's why Dan had gone off the deep end when separated from his human side. There was nothing hold his urge to protect after his loved one's death and his ghost part saw his human half trying to get rid of him as betrayal, so it reacted by betrayung his protective obsession- by destroying everything it could and eating Vlad's ghost only fueled his crazy.

There had been times when both his ghost side and human side were separated that didn't cause this. When he was spilt by Fenton Ghost Cather, his ghost side took the responsibility while his human became even lazier than average. That didn't mean they had different personalities, just that some aspects of themselves were futher away.

It was like his soul multiplied rather then broken. It's why he was able to stay sane, he didn't reject any part of him.

It just didn't help with their fusing his ghost was affecting humans and him. He now had to deal with even more love-struck eyes. Worse, according to Vlad and Frostbite, Danny was now entering his mating stage, and he was honest to Acients nesting.

The building next door that he had bought and developed to have decent-sized cubicles with warm beds meant to house the homeless was now mostly occupied by children.

Phantom was almost always purring, seeing street kids slowly move in. He offered them food, work, a roof, and warm water. The cubicles could be considered dorm rooms-a bed, desk, and small cabinets that were savage from other kids who sold them to Danny enough for them to walk into and sleep when it turned dark. Some leave in the morning, others stay, but Danny doesn't mind.

Maybe that's why Peter hated him so much. Alvin was weak to Phantom's charm and Danny knew a thing or two about older siblings trying to protect thier younger siblings from parent's bigotry.

Jazz made a face when ghost hunters got near him before the reveal. They weren't in danger anymore, but knowing that and relaxing around what they saw a threat were two very different things.

Peter and Alvin Draper appeared a month or so after the whole Scarecrow's incident. He didn't mean to run into the supervillain, knocking the man over in the middle of his villian monologue.

He had been too busy trying to get Sam and Tucker- dated in senior year and the last two years- to agree on the main decor for their wedding. Even after they got engaged, it was still Danny who smoothed their bickering to notice that he had stop breathing again.

Sometimes he forgot.

It took the guy stuffing a needle into his arm, the liquid already being cleansed by his ectoplasm before fully settling in his bloodstream, to realize this wasn't another Gotham citizen casually wearing a gas mask.

This was the reason people wear gas masks.

He punched the creep away from him, effectively allowing the heroes to lock him up. But in doing so, he put all his goons out of work. He hadn't known until two days later Andres had nervously walked into his bakery with a resume.

Andres had been the Scarecrow's right-hand man trying to get money for his dying mother, who had cancer. Danny didn't know what to do with a guy whose only valuable skill at a bakery was speaking Spanish but if he wanted to get out of life of crime then who was he to stop him?

His resume was impressive, but it was mostly how to handle illegal chemicals and torture, so Danny set him up as his cashier and co-baker. A few days later, Andres had carefully suggested other goons from Scarecrow's crew who needed jobs, and Danny found himself fully staffed that same day.

More people began visiting him for work, and Danny didn't what to do with them half the time.

Sighing, he placed the newest batch of ecto-cookies in a box for Manolo to take to his mother. The kid is rocking on his heels by the entrance. He is new to the streets after getting thrown out by his mother's ex, but now that she was cleaning up her addiction, Danny hoped he wouldn't be seeing him around the streets as often.

"Peter is going to shoot you," Andres said, looking at the man with the streak of white in his hair practically foaming at the mouth when he saw the small boy arrive for his delivery run. "Want me and the boys to take care of him?"

Danny glanced up to catch Alvin ducking his head, face a healthy red hue. The guy had been staring at him again, which meant Peter was being overprotective again.

"No" He tells Andres, putting the boxes in a little red wagon for the boy to tug around. "I'll handle him."

He walked by the brothers, Alvin already trying to sneak a box away. Danny quickly moved the wagon away from him. When there was nothing to cleanse, ectoplasm worked like a potent energy drink, and honestly, Alvin did not need more of a reason to get less sleep.

Alvin pouted when his chance to steal a cookie failed.

Cute Thought Danny

Our children will be gorgeous Responded Phantom Make Alvin mate.

Danny ignores Phantom to smile at Manolo. He slips into Spanish, quickly crouching down to be at eye level. "Hi buddy. How is the new sweater treating you?"

Manolo's dimple shows as he pulls the sleeves over his palms. "It's warm. I like how fluffy it is."

Phantom cooed, and a soft purr escaped him before Danny clamped down on the sound. "I'm glad. Ready for another day of deliveries?"

"Yes!" The ten year old chirps snapping the list of names and address out of Danny's hand. The baker laughs, pulling our his wallet.

"I know I can count on you, so I'll pay you upfront. If anyone gives you tips, you can keep them," He says, handing the boy five hundred. Manolo beams, pocketing the money and scurrying away with his wagon.

I want a baby Phantom whines

I'll eat a bagel later, Danny promises.

( Part 1 ) (Part 3)

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Eddie first meeting Dustin and thinking yeah, he knows how this goes: he’ll be a larger than life, comical figure in this kid’s life for, like, not even a year before he leaves Hawkins High in the dust.

And sure, Dustin is, like, ridiculously endearing even when he’s being a cocky little shit in campaigns, and that suits Eddie just fine, ‘cause he can be a cocky little shit at the best of times, downright obnoxious really, he thinks—a part of him’s never outgrown the juvenile, no matter how many times he repeats senior year.

Plus Dustin is crazily good at solving riddles, so Eddie’s remaining months leading Hellfire are definitely gonna be a fun challenge.

Then March comes.

And Eddie’s shaking apart in a boathouse, seeing impossible, terrible things on a loop in his head, Chrissy, Chrissy, God no, please, and Dustin’s there, with a wisdom far beyond his years, calmly leading him out of the dark.

Eddie half expects it to be a trick, but no. Dustin Henderson believes him.

You don’t know me, Eddie wants to say.

But there’s a constant defiance in Dustin’s expression, even when he’s clearly trying to keep things light and breezy, there’s nothing to worry about! Like he’s just daring for Eddie to contradict him.

There’s something assured in how the kid does things, Eddie thinks. He can see how the years of all this shit have shaped him, have him flitting between maturity and earnestness: something born from a childhood that’s not been lost, just altered.

He watches Dustin walk with Steve Harrington in the woods—can read the shared history and fondness hidden in between layers of snark; they’re family, he knows that without a doubt.

What trips him up is that Dustin keeps looking back, keeps drawing him back into the group with complaints that he’s walking too slow, and his eyebrows are raised meaningfully, like he’s really saying that there’s room for Eddie here, too.

And Eddie doesn’t know how to convey the sudden gratitude he feels closing up his throat—feels too jittery still, too raw to do anything justice.

He keeps close when Dustin tears off through the woods, heart in his mouth as the night darkens, Dustin, can you slow down? Dustin!

He pulls Dustin back from the lake’s edge just in time, then feels Steve’s watchful eyes on him—spots a flicker of approval, like he’s passed some sort of test.

And that feeling only grows the longer he’s around Steve, lying through his teeth in The Upside Down, I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, and Steve’s giving him this knowing sideways glance, like maybe they’re something of the same; Eddie feels a sudden, unexpected rush of joy at the thought, dancing in and out of Steve’s space, still super jealous as hell, by the way.

“I told you, right?” Dustin says, grinning widely as Steve drives them out of Forest Hills at breakneck speed. “He’s awesome.”

And Eddie feels the fondness of his own smile, feels it right down to his core, because he gets that Dustin’s only being so forthcoming because Steve can’t hear him right now.

Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea.

It hits him then, while roughhousing with Dustin in the grass (a deliberate distraction, trying to make the kids forget about weapons and fire): that he’s never really been the kinda guy who people want to stick around, but now…

Now he’s starting to think that he could be.

Starts to imagine, starts to hope—and that’s huge, something that would’ve seemed impossible mere days ago—as he sees Robin and Nancy laughing at his antics, their weapon-making temporarily forgotten.

They like me, Eddie thinks with wonder, they really like me.

And he wants—sudden and fierce, with all he has—to change the world for them, to make it so Robin Buckley would just be spending spring break watching arty films, dreaming of Paris; so Nancy Wheeler would never need to hide guns in her bedroom, would never have to carry an unimaginable grief.

Steve looks over, too—his laugh carries across the field, and Eddie is caught by the warmth in his eyes; even as Dustin manages to playfully tackle him, he’s still thinking of Steve, and maybe, maybe…

The lightness fades as they go over the plan, but not the emotion: Eddie keeps that tucked away, safe, a promise to himself.

“Uh, are you sure about this?” he says in an undertone to Steve, when it’s first revealed that it’s him and Dustin paired up together.

Steve’s eyes are apologetic, “Sorry, man, I’ve tried every—if there was a way to just, like, sit it out, I’d have—”

“No,” Eddie says urgently, “I mean…” And he points at himself before nodding discreetly to where Dustin is—currently talking up a storm with Erica, something about vents that he can’t make sense of.

“Are you sure?” Eddie presses, trying to put all he’s not saying into the question, I can see how much that kid means to you, I’ve known him, like, six months, Harrington, that’s nothing, why, why do you—

Steve shakes his head. A little smile breaks through his concern. “Yeah, of course,” he says, like it’s nothing.

But Eddie can feel the weight of it. A passing of the torch.

And he doesn’t know how to put what he’s feeling into words: that, apart from Wayne, he’s never really allowed people in, never allowed them to matter like this.

As they drive back to the Creel House, as time runs out and nerves build, he tries to show everything he can’t say; he helps Nancy take stock of supplies, offers Robin his shoulder so she can sleep, and he knows that’s not enough, barely scratches the surface, but it’s all he’s got.

He sits in the back of the RV, watches Steve, tense and silent in the driver’s seat, and knows with certainty what his mission is: get Dustin Henderson safely back home.

And no, Eddie doesn’t know how any of this is gonna go.

But he can hope.

He can try.

[honeyedmiller]

Hiraeth | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: no outbreak, usage of marijuana, smoking, both reader and Joel get high, age gap (twenty-ish years), very much legal + consensual relations, smut (f oral receiving, fingering), pet names, no use of y/n.

word count: 1k

synopsis: the most invigorating and intoxicating drug you’ve had in your life is completely forbidden… and then there’s weed.

divider by @saradika-graphics

hiraeth (noun): the feeling of being homesick for a home one is not able to return to; homesickness pertaining to a home that never was.

You took another hit, the joint slotted between your fingers crackling in urgency. You hummed as your lungs burned so good, desperate for the warm summer night air that engulfed your body. You closed your eyes as you let the high roll through your body, sighing in content. 

Your legs were tossed over Joel’s lap—the same Joel you shouldn’t be anywhere near because he was supposed to be off limits. Your shorts were unbuttoned and your bright colored swimsuit bottoms peeked through, teasing Joel with a reminder of what you looked like in his pool just hours prior. 

Joel threw neighborhood barbecues all the time, and with your dad being his best friend, you were always invited. 

You knew it was wrong to be fucking your dad’s best friend, someone twenty—give or take—years your senior. 

But how could something so wrong feel so right? 

Joel tapped your leg and you peeked an eye open. He was looking down at you with bemusement written over his features, holding two fingers out for you to pass the nearly finished joint to him. You happily obliged, handing it off to him before settling back down into the depths of the comfy outdoor couch on Joel’s backyard patio. 

Joel’s thumb was rubbing over your shin slowly, gently tracing circles into the freshly shaved flesh. Your eyes opened again and Joel was staring at you this time, eyes hooded and dark with desire. 

“We’re lucky your father doesn’t hover.” Joel murmurs into the night, sighing as his free hand trails higher up your legs. 

“I know. Then we wouldn’t be able to do all the things we’d want if he did hover.” You huff a laugh, and Joel quirks a brow at you before offering the last of the joint. You shook your head slightly, and he took one last hit before he stubbed out the dud. 

“Things, hm?” He asks, hand dipping into the waistline of your shorts. His fingers skate over your covered cunt, and goosebumps easily rise onto your skin. 

Your brain is foggy and you feel like you’re floating, and Joel’s touch feels like heaven. 

“Will you let me eat your pretty pussy, baby?” Joel’s voice is husky, a lazy smirk pulled onto his velvet lips. 

“Please.” 

Your senses are elevated, so every single touch he gives you is one that has you reeling. 

“Such a good girl, usin’ her manners n’ all.” 

You bite your lip and look at him, eyes no doubt half-lidded. If you weren’t high, it probably would’ve been a sultry look. 

Joel’s quick to take off your shorts, prompting you to sit upright so he can kneel down in front of you. His kisses up your thighs are all lips and tongue, making you breathe harder as he gets closer to your aching core. He kisses you once over the fabric of your bikini bottoms, and you softly whine his name. 

“Patience, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of ya.” 

Joel slips the material off of your legs, only to be met with your glistening core. 

He’s looking at you like a man starved, irises black and laced with determination and desire. 

He brings a hand up and runs two fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how easy the glide is. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them both to taste you. 

“So fuckin’ sweet. Like nectar from a peach, baby.” He moans, not wanting to waste any more time. He moves forward and, with a flat tongue, licks a long stripe from your aching hole to your puffy clit. 

You gasp and your fingers are tangling in his curls, eyebrows threading together at how intensified it feels. 

And he doesn’t relent. He’s working at you with his tongue, slow and lascivious. Every fiber of your being tingles with a euphoric pleasure as he laps up your seemingly never ending arousal. 

“Holy fuck,” You cry, gripping his hair tighter. He moans into you with a chuckle before he brings his tongue down to fuck into you at an increased pace. Your back arches off of the couch as you roll your hips, legs starting to shake. 

“Close already, baby?” Joel tsks, and you groan in response. 

Joel knew you and your body like the back of his hand, so he could easily make you come undone within minutes. 

Sometimes it wasn’t fair, because if it were up to you, you’d have him down there forever. You don’t think he’d really mind it either. 

Joel moves his tongue out of you and up up up toward your aching clit, licking tight circles around it before sucking the sensitive nerves into his mouth. He inserts the two fingers that were previously teasing you minutes prior into your needy cunt, expertly pumping at a synchronized pace with his mouth. 

“Jesus fuck Joel, ‘m gonna come.” Your voice is whiny and desperate and so fucking breathy that you barely even recognize it. It was only him that could make you feel like this. Nobody else, just Joel. 

Joel Joel Joel. 

You felt the crescendo of your orgasm building quickly, and Joel pulled his mouth away for a split second as his fingers curled themselves in your tight heat to hit that spot that make you see the whole galaxy behind your eyes. 

“Can feel it, sweet girl. C’mon baby. Give it t’me. Wanna drink you up.” 

And you were a fucking goner. Your eyes rolled back as that tight coil snapped, rushing through your body so intensely it nearly made you dizzy. You gushed onto his fingers and in his mouth, and he drank up every last thing you offered him. 

You were desperate to catch your breath, body unsubstantial as you melted into the couch. You winced as Joel slowly pulled out his fingers, groaning at the loss of fullness. 

You open your tired eyes to look at him, and he gives you a soft smile before kissing you. You taste yourself on him, but he also tastes like mint and whiskey and Joel. 

He made you feel so invigorated. You couldn’t get enough of him. He felt safe. He felt like home.

Maybe in another life—one where he wasn’t your dad’s best friend and where he wasn’t twenty something years older than you—

You could be selfish for once and have it all. 

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @tinygarbage ; @amanitacowboy ; @nostalxgic ; @pascalpvnk ; @cool-iguana

[sporadicbeans82]

Pool Party || Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You have a crush on a certain someone who seems intent on ignoring you. Your teammates decide to do something about the tension between you and Jessie.

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), It's a little smutty?, Grinding/Semi public sexual content?, Mutual pining, maybe a swear word, a smidge of angst if you squint, mostly fluff, no editing so good luck soldiers

Word Count: 3.5k words

A/N: I'm not really sure what this is, but enjoy?

From the second that you’d met Jessie Fleming, you’d been trying to figure out ways to get closer to her. Of course, you found her to be incredibly attractive and had known of her existence ever since you’d faced off against the Canadian midfielder in a friendly. It had been an especially important game for you, as you’d made your senior international debut that very day. 

That day, and every day since, the way Jessie played entranced you. Everywhere you stepped, the girl was your shadow, slipping in front of you and intercepting balls that were sent your way, and then zig-zagging around you whenever you tried to take that ball back. The girl had been a pain in your ass in that game, to say the least, but it had been a massive learning experience for you, and it had lit a passionate fire inside of you. 

As you’d gone up against her again and again, you found more reasons to like the girl. The way her cheeks reddened as she played, and the physicality she showed in her playing style. However, it became more than that– the respect and kindness with which she approached other players and fans, and the way she interacted with a child in her jersey, lifting them up to take a picture with them and sign their jersey. The more you played with the girl, the more you noticed about her, and the more you wished you knew more. 

After a few games of playing against each other, you managed to gather up the courage to ask to swap shirts after the match. Jessie had given you a hug, shyly congratulating you on your performance. You noticed that, under the scent of sweat and grass, the girl smelled of cinnamon, and her embrace was warm. 

You were shocked that night when your phone had pinged from your nightstand on your bedside table. You’d leaned over to check, and saw a notification that Jessie had followed you (back) on Instagram. You were nearly over the moon, the grin which split your face open quickly noticed by your teammates around you. You were quickly the butt of many jokes and teasing words, but you didn’t mind as Jessie had followed you back. 

Did that mean you were friends? Were you overthinking it? You were totally overthinking it. You contemplated sending Jessie a message, maybe congratulating her for how she’d played, but you never gathered the courage that was required to perform such a daunting task. 

You’d always thought that your little crush would be just that, a crush. Admiring the girl from afar, but never getting close enough to get to know her in a way that would turn the crush into something more. You’d accepted that long ago, having almost moved on from Jessie and the childish crush you’d had on her.

However, the announcement that Jessie was coming into the NWSL, to your very team, shocked you to your core. You would have been lying if you’d said you still didn’t have feelings for her, although you managed to push them out of the way to make room for… friendlier feelings. Now that you were, essentially, coworkers, you felt that it would have been inappropriate to harbor the same crush that you’d had over the years, especially as you were certain that it wasn’t returned. 

While you knew that Jessie didn’t have the same feelings towards you that you had for her, you were still confused as to why she almost acted as if you didn’t… exist. She brushed off each of your attempts to go out and explore the city together and show her around. She would give you small smiles every time you greeted her each morning for training, but rarely returned your greeting. In the rare occasion that she was paired with you in training, the girl rarely even looked at you, nevermind speak. 

You would have believed that Jessie’s attitude was due to her being new to the team, but she was getting along quite well with the rest of your teammates. Fairly enough, she spent much of her time with her fellow Canadians, Christine Sinclair and Janine Beckie. 

However, she was often found talking with Sophia Smith or juggling with Olivia. She was rather friendly with quite literally everybody on the team… everybody but you.

Your mind pondered listlessly over what you could have done to upset Jessie. You couldn’t remember having made any reckless tackles on her, or said anything rude to her on the field. Sure, you had a reputation for both… but you hadn’t done either to Jessie. Sure, maybe you’d told one of her teammates (you think it was Cloé Lacasse?) to shove her boot where the sun doesn’t shine after it had clipped your shin as she’d tried to snap the ball away from you. But it wasn’t as if you’d said anything overly criminal to Jessie herself, or even to any of her teammates. 

Weeks went by in the same manner, with you quietly pining over Jessie whilst simultaneously trying to figure out what you’d done to upset her. What you didn’t know, however, was that Jessie was having almost a similar internal debate as you.

She’d noticed during the game that you’d debuted for the United States Women’s National Team. She never would have admitted it then, but you’d given her a run for her money despite it being your first time competing internationally. Jessie had had to pull out all of her stops to keep you from slipping past her, and she’d finished the match absolutely exhausted. 

Since that match, she’d kept a careful eye on you and your development– both as a player and a person. She watched as you grew out of your shell, into an opponent who was consistently relied upon by your teams. She noted how you gained confidence in the way you played, taking risks that a younger you would have shuddered at and they worked each and every time. 

Jessie couldn’t deny that any time one of your highlight reels or edits popped up on her phone, she’d watch the entire thing through. 

Sometimes, if the… music… was really good, she’d watch it a few times. Purely to take notes on your tactics, of course, not because she wanted to take in every ounce of your existence that she could on the pixelated phone screen. Totally not because, sometimes, and only sometimes, your eyes made Jessie’s stomach do flips and turns in her stomach, or that your smile made Jessie feel almost… lightheaded. 

She actually despised herself for how long it had taken her to follow you back on Instagram, since she rarely used the app and had never seen that you’d followed her in the first place. It had taken a search for your name for your page to come up, and she’d felt almost… giddy, when she saw that you’d already followed her.

Jessie wasn’t stupid, she knew that the way she felt about you was more than purely platonic. When she came to Portland, she knew that she needed to bury those feelings that she had for you, as there was no way that you’d feel the same back. 

And so, she tried to remain nonchalant when she interacted with you. She smiled at you, nodding in greeting when you said hello to her each morning, and she made sure that the relationship between the two of you was like one between coworkers. 

And so the two of you continued, quietly pining for the other. Your teammates were growing tired, having long ago noticed how you’d stare at Jessie and look away when Jessie looked towards you. Jessie would do the same, zoning out as she looked at you and quickly diverting her gaze whenever you’d turn to look at Jessie. Your teammates felt the tension between the two of you, and it was, admittedly, a little bit awkward for the others.

It was Sophia’s idea to have a team bonding night to see if they could get you two, and the rest of the team, a little bit closer. You weren’t even sure whose house you were at, but you were instructed to bring a swimming suit, as you were having a day out in their pool. 

Of course, you forgot a swim suit… and nearly died when you arrived just as Jessie was doing a cannonball into the pool, causing a wave of water to cascade down onto her Canadian teammates, who all looked displeased. Jessie stuck her tongue out at them from inside of the pool before treading water to get to the side. 

She used her arms to hoist herself out of the pool, and your mouth grew dry. You actually raised your hand and wiped at your chin to make sure you weren’t salivating. You cleared your throat awkwardly as you caught sight of Jessie’s hard abdomen and muscular arms as she pulled herself free of the water. 

Diverting your attention elsewhere, you could feel how heated your cheeks were, and Sophia caught sight of you from across the pool. She smirked, before making her way over to you. 

“You made it! I wasn’t sure you were even coming, you sure took your time.” Sophia’s words were light, teasing. You smiled at her, feeling suddenly shy after Jessie’s unintentional… show, you supposed. How did one achieve the arms and abs of a Goddess? You wondered if you should ask Jessie, because there was no way someone could look that good without even trying and, quite honestly, you wondered how her muscles and silky skin would feel beneath your ha-

“If you’re going to pass out on me, give me a heads up so I can record it, please.” Someone snarked, breaking you out of your reverie. You turned to see another of your teammates, Olivia Moultrie, grinning at you. 

Behind Olivia, you watched as Jessie did a flip into the pool, the move causing your stomach to do its own flips. Your cheeks managed to redden impossibly further, and you shook your head slowly. Have flips always been so attractive? You never remembered having been so captivated by-

“Not gonna pass out.” You mumbled, and Sophia frowned. 

“It’s pretty warm out today, are you sure? Maybe you should hop in the water, just in case.” Sophia said, voice almost… faux in its concern. Your brows furrowed, and you shook your head again.

“No– I’m oka-”

Hands were on your shoulders, pushing you towards the pool. Before you knew what was happening, you were being shoved into the pool. You shouted out as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet, not at all having been ready to take a plunge into the water. 

You fumbled around, hands slapping uselessly at the water. That was the other issue that you’d never mentioned– you didn’t know how to swim. Nobody had ever bothered teaching you, and by the time you’d realized that it would have been a useful skill to have learned, you were utterly consumed in soccer and it was too late. 

You kicked uselessly at the water, unable to keep your head above the water long enough to catch anything more than a short gasp of air before you were underwater again. Against your will, you were panicking. Your lungs were burning, legs burning and stomach heaving as you fought feebly against gravity and the liquid which was keeping you from air. 

Then, strong arms were around your middle, dragging you up. Your head broke the surface of the water, and you coughed out as you were finally able to take a deep breath of fresh air. You tried to kick out, to get out of the water, but the arms around your stomach just held you tighter. You were pulled against a hard body, and someone was breathing harshly in your ear. Over the scent of chlorine, you smelled cinnamon, and as the person spoke you felt yourself relax against them.

“Hey, hey I’ve got you. Calm down. You can touch the ground here. It’s not too deep.” Almost… tentatively, you allowed your feet to reach out and touch the ground. Instantly, you grew embarrassed, having nearly drowned in water that was barely reaching your chest. You’d panicked, and immediately you started apologizing to Jessie, who had just been forced to “rescue” you from four feet of chlorinated water. 

What a way to impress your crush. You were a loser. 

From above, you saw Sophia appearing a little sheepish, giving you a little smile as she waited to see what your reaction was to being pushed in the water by her. You glared at her, shaking your head.

“A little warning next time would be nice.” You said, and you heard Jessie huff out a short laugh from behind you. You would have done anything to hear that noise again. In fact, you were trying to push all of your attention onto Sophia so that you could avoid thinking about Jessie’s skin on yours, her arms still wrapped firmly around you. You felt safe. 

“It’s not like I expected you to drown in four feet of water!” Sophia defended herself, trying arduously to decipher whether you were truly angry or not. You knew that the girl had meant no harm and, after all, it had been a pool party. You had expected to get wet, and you should have had your suit, and it wasn’t as though she knew you couldn’t swim– it wasn’t a fact you bragged about, of course. In that moment, you decided to forgive Sophia, and Jessie swore she fell for you a little more.

You could have, and had every right to, rip Sophia a new one for shoving you into the water, but you’d chosen not to. Instead, you laughed off the event, and Sophia appeared to calm down as well, laughing with you. 

Then, Sophia dismissed herself, saying she was going to go grab a towel for you.

The rest of your teammates had forgotten all about you already, consumed in their own antics. Now, it was just you and Jessie. Jessie, whose arms were still wrapped around you.

Before you could lose courage, you turned yourself around so that you were facing the black haired girl. If you wanted to, you could have leaned in just the barest amount and kissed Jessie. Something told you that she wouldn’t have minded, if the way she looked down to your lips as you turned was anything to go by.

Instead, you spoke.

“Thank you– for saving me.” The words were pathetic, causing your cheeks to redden again. Jessie laughed a little, the sound setting off the butterflies in your gut once more, something which you felt was a constant when it came to the Canadian midfielder. 

“I’d hardly call that saving. It was like watching a fish drown in water!” You frowned at the analogy, glaring at the girl and catching her eyes. You knew what drowning felt like, having felt like you were drowning only a few minutes before.

Even still, the way you got lost in Jessie’s gaze was an entirely unique way of drowning, and one that you would have happily drowned in any day.

“I thought I was drowning!” You defended yourself, voice rising in pitch as you laughed a little bit. You felt Jessie’s chest rise and fall as she breathed, so close that the two of you were practically breathing the same air. The thought was driving you nearly mad, so close to everything you’d been thinking about since you’d ever met the girl, nearly unable to hold yourself back.

“Clearly! You looked like you were drowning, too.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes nearly teasingly, and when your gaze returned to Jessie, you realized she was back to staring at your lips.

“Is there something on my face?” You asked, and Jessie swallowed, throat bobbing in a way that conveyed intense nervousness at the question you’d posed. 

Jessie had spent years pining over you, had swallowed down her feelings and pushed them to the side more times than she would ever be able to count. She’d done it in the name of her career, and in the name of her team.

Now, however, she wanted to do something for herself. She had forgotten about the people who surrounded the pool, her new teammates who weren’t really paying attention to the two people in the pool anyway.

Jessie’s soft hand came up to cup your cheek, and her eyes met yours again.

“Just a really pretty pair of eyes, and a gorgeous face, and really kissable lips. Speaking of– could I-” Jessie was, as always, cursing herself for how incredibly awkward she sounded. She’d wanted to sound suave, and cool, and calm and collected but her heart was beating like a jackhammer in her chest, so loud that she felt you could hear it if you were paying attention.

As it had it, you were busy paying attention to your own heart, which was threatening to beat right out of your chest. You were wondering if you were having a heart attack as you allowed your hands to loop around Jessie’s neck, clasping behind her head and tugging her into you further. 

Just before your lips met, you whispered. “Please, do.” 

And so Jessie did. Your lips met, and everything in the background seemed to blend into nothingness. You almost felt like you were back underwater with how everything faded but Jessie. All you knew was the feeling of Jessie’s lips against yours, moving fluidly against your lips.

Hers were smooth, and she sucked on your bottom lips gently as her other hand stroked at the skin of your hip, having strayed beneath your t-shirt. The kiss was gentle, and a little bit reserved, and a part of you would later be mortified at how you were making out with a “coworker” in front of your other “coworkers” but another part of you knew that you’d waited so, so long for this moment that you were completely unwilling to live more of your life without experiencing a kiss with Jessie. 

It was short, so much shorter than you wanted it to be. However, as you pulled away, Jessie’s cheeks were red and she looked at you almost… shyly.

“Yeah, we’re going to have to do that again,” You decided for the both of you, and Jessie nodded eagerly, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the steps of the pool. “Where are we going?”

Jessie continued to tug you behind her, around the corner of Sophia’s house and towards a shadier area, away from prying eyes. As soon as everyone else’s gazes were off of you, Jessie was tugging you into her, turning so that you were pressed up against the fence. 

“We’re doing that again, of course.” Jessie said, before pressing her lips back against yours.

Her lips were firm against yours, taking and taking and taking from you as, once again, she sucked and nipped at your bottom lip. She swallowed a moan that escaped your lips, making sure to keep quiet despite the loud music which boomed from a speaker where the rest of your teammates were. 

Pressing up against you, Jessie ran her hands up and down your sides, tongue slipping into your mouth as you parted your lips again. The pleasure that you felt was immeasurable. Everywhere Jessie touched was alit in flames, and you felt like you were on fire.

Jessie’s tongue slid against your own, exploring you in a way that she’d never had the chance to do before, and which she planned to do again and again and again. 

Before Jessie could really think, her knee was pressing up against you, between your legs. Her thigh was flexed, meeting the area where you throbbed for her, and another moan burst from your lips. 

You rolled your hips against her, the friction rubbing deliciously where you needed it most, and Jessie swallowed yet another moan from your lips. You knew that you couldn't get too carried away, given that your teammates were only a few feet away, separated by a wall. However, you couldn't help it.

Jessie had basically lost all sense of control by now, but as she heard someone ask where the two of you had gone, she was quick to back up. You were panting, but had also heard Sophia ask where you’d gone off to. 

Jessie stepped into your personal space again, fixing your wet shirt and pants for you before planting a firm, but quick, kiss against your lips. 

“How about we go out for dinner tonight? We can… talk about this.” Jessie, despite having you completely desperate and wanting for her minutes ago, was back to being awkward and uncertain. You nodded slowly, leaning over and planting a kiss to her cheek before the two of you reappeared from behind Sophia’s house.

Sophia glanced at the two of you, before a sly smile grew on her face as she realized that her carefully plotted plan had worked, taking in your reddened cheeks and disheveled states. After handing you a towel to dry off with, Sophia was quick to pull out her phone and text her separate group chat with just a few of your teammates.

Soph: “Operation Pool Party: Success” 

[hellishjoel]

dark paradise 

5.2k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Your mind is flooded with the memories of your private time with Joel in his woodshed, but he hasn't reached out to you since the bonfire and it's been a week. You go next door to give him a piece of your mind.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, smut, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, Joel in his 40’s), dbf/neighbor!joel, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, pet names, praise, Joel being a horrible communicator and texter

A/N: I edited this 12+ times and kept changing stuff, so therefore there’s probably mistakes. There’s your one and only warning lol. I’m so excited you guys are eating up the first part (off to the races), I hope the next parts to come keep ya’ll entertained ;)

“Joel-” You clenched your eyes closed. “Outside? Are you serious?” Your scolded whispers were useless. Now that Joel knew you had these needs, he wasn’t going to let you be underserved.  He perched one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread to the side and held open by the warm palm of his hand. You could feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, your walls fluttering as he came closer and closer to your core with each kiss to the exposed skin.  “On the tailgate, Joel?” You whimpered, a flash of concern passing over your face.  “I know how much you love the truck, baby.” Son of a bitch.

Time seemed to slow after your interaction with Joel in his woodshed. The days following the bonfire were filled with excitement but quickly followed by dread and anxiety. It had been a week. 

No text, no calls, no anything.

It wasn’t that serious. It was just Joel. Besides, you had a vibrator to fill the void until he finally decided to reach out to you. Whenever that may be. 

Days one and two were the most riveting. Every time you thought of Joel, your heart raced a little faster. You didn’t have a long list of sexual endeavors, so this was still noteworthy. Giving head to your hot forty-year-old neighbor. You wondered what else would come from it. More importantly, when. 

Days three and four felt routine and mundane. After picking around your breakfast and staring out the window to Joel’s empty driveway, you would wander to your back porch to read a book on the dock. 

You were lucky to catch glimpses of Sarah. Her summer was busy with her friends from school and working a part-time job to afford having fun the summer before her senior year. If she was free, you guys would jump in the lake, sit on the dock together, tell stories, and catch up on everything that was happening in each other’s lives. Well, not everything.  

Days five and six were torture. Your vibrator had died from its excessive use, and your fingers weren’t cutting it. You wanted Joel, you needed Joel. You hated to admit it, especially since he hadn’t paid a singular ounce of attention to you since the bonfire last Saturday. Even worse, after deciding to watch Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron with your family during a movie night, you started thinking even the horse was kind of attractive. 

Day seven started with your room covered in a pale blue light. You didn’t know what time it was. You weren’t sure how much you slept, but you knew it was very little. This ache was pestering your insides, spreading a rot like an old tree log. Your mind couldn’t fade away from the way Joel felt inside your mouth, the way he filled your throat, and you breathed through the choke. Or the way he finished on your face and your tongue.  

Your well-painted memory of it all was already beginning to fade. The details weren’t as crisp, you wanted to remember every detail and hold on to it for as long as possible.  

That’s what you were trying to imagine at this ungodly early morning hour. The birds weren’t even chirping outside yet. Your fan slowly circled, trying to cool you off from the sticky Texas heat. You wished your windows weren’t jammed closed.

You heard a thud outside, your body alert as you swiftly sat up and peeked out the window. 

Despite it being a Saturday, you watched a tired and slow Joel walk out to his old pickup truck and toss a brown bag lunch inside. Where was he off to so early?

He was wearing his chunky worn-in work boots, splattered with drops of white paint stained into the leather by the steel toe. They were heavy with each step he took on his rickety wooden deck. His faded dark blue jeans sat snug on his hips with his wallet stuffed in the back pocket. His dark hair dashed with silver grays was still damp from his morning shower.  

You watched behind foggy glass as he patted down his jeans and mumbled something, swiftly turning on his heel and lightly jogging up his steps before disappearing inside again. 

Seeing him after a week of silence bubbled up a hint of anger and annoyance in you. It annoyed you that he looked so good. 

Your feet found their way onto cold hardwood before you could waste another second. You would give him a piece of your mind in fuzzy slippers and an oversized rusty-orange Texas Longhorns t-shirt that was so draped over you that it covered your black sleep shorts. 

You tiredly navigated your way out of your room quietly, not to wake your parents down the hall. You crossed your arms and hugged them to your body, the early morning chill hitting you once you were outside. You crossed your driveway to his truck, slowing once you reached his perched-down tailgate. Joel had resurged from his house with his truck keys in hand, his steps slowing once you two shared eye contact.

You’d be standing here all day if you expected Joel to speak first. 

“Hey.” 

He gave you a small nod, his eyes dropping to the shirt that reached the tops of your thighs before they managed their way back up to your face. “Mornin’.” 

He closed the gap between his porch steps and his tailgate, setting down his toolbelt and box in the bed. He looked rigid, tight in the shoulders and chest. His close proximity made you step a few paces back, the length of the tailgate separating you from Joel. 

You were afraid that if he stood too close, he might feel how badly you wanted him by radiation alone. Especially now, fresh out of the shower, half-wet curls plastered to his forehead, still smelling a little musky with his body wash.

You finally let out an aggravated sigh, hip landing against the tailgate with your arms still crossed. 

“So… where are you going this early on a Saturday?” Your face still held a slightly pinched expression though you tried to ask a casual question. 

Your curiosity made the left side of his mouth tick up in a lopsided little smirk. 

“You wanna tell me the real reason you came over here?” Joel’s tactics were ruthless. It made you feel small, young. But you weren’t, not anymore. 

You took in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes on his as your head fell to the side. Finally, the ticking time bomb inside you was counting down. All of your pent-up sexual frustration would be launched at this lumberjack of a man. 

“You haven’t texted me.” 

“Christ,” he muttered, annoyance passing over his face. “Sun’s not even up yet.” 

“Joel.” You pushed. 

“Haven’t texted you in a few years.” He said lamely. 

“I know, the last thing I have from you is asking me what you think my dad would like for a birthday present.”

“I value your input.” His teasing didn’t make you any less angry. Joel could tell. “I don’t text anyone much besides Sarah. ‘ts the only way I can get ahold of her. Don’t even remember I own a phone half the time.” 

“I know.” Your arms crossed tighter around your body. “But I have… needs.” Your voice awkwardly teetered as you evaded his eye contact.

“Needs? Do ya, now?” Joel’s accent came out swinging, his signature smirky-smile working in combination with his cocked up eyebrow. But your face held evidence of your disappointment. 

There’s a gentle lull. He should have texted you, and you shouldn’t be here telling him that. He knows. Or maybe you shouldn’t expect so much from a guy like Joel. No wedding ring, brooding, a bull with horns, Joel. Wouldn’t know it was his birthday without Sarah reminding him, Joel. Wouldn’t leave the house if he didn’t have to, Joel. Wouldn’t think to text his horny neighbor next door, Joel. 

“Didn’t text me either, sweetheart.” He points out, making your head snap up with wide doe eyes. Shit. He was right. 

You didn’t text him, either. You were just sort of expecting it out of him. You hoped he would lead the way, be the guide, reach out wanting more. But that wasn’t Joel. Were you both playing this devilish waiting game? You felt a little silly, your insides wrapping in knots as he surveyed you. 

“Well I-”

“You what?” 

He was the one grilling into you now. The sun began cresting over the water, bleaching your surroundings in a pale orange. The sun’s glare caused Joel’s eyes to squint slightly to block it out. 

You rolled your head to the side and wiggled around as you tried to stand still against his tailgate. Your frustrations were evident as you rubbed your crossed legs together. 

This wasn’t the same girl who took a leap of faith in his woodshed, who crossed the boundary between nothing to something, and set you and Joel up for a thrilling summer. You just wanted him to tell you that he wanted it too. To fuck around and do something different. Make this summer worth a damn. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted more.” You finally muster up, your voice smaller than you intended, shifty eyes looking over his. 

Your statement made him scoff, having to look away from you with a wicked smile. The orange luminescence of the sun warmed his otherwise cold face. He was amused, maybe even a little offended by your statement. 

“‘Course I want more.” He strained before pausing, his voice lowering as he took another step closer. “Look at you. Wearin’ my shirt.” He said before he towered over you, making the first point of contact as his hand reached for your hip and pulled you in closer, his fist clutching the worn-in orange t-shirt. 

You blinked a few times before looking down where he fisted the material. Shit. He was right again. 

Joel had given this to you the last summer you were in Danbury. You and Sarah took a late-night dip in the lake, and she wanted you to sleep over and watch a movie in the basement. You were too lazy to walk back home and change, so Joel gave you a towel and his Longhorns t-shirt.

You easily could have snagged a shirt from Sarah’s closet, but Joel caught you sneaking into his house and dripping water everywhere.

“Just take this. Go dry off. Get warmed up.” A statement laced with annoyance and precaution for his floors, but also attentive care. 

It was probably supposed to be just for the night, but you stole it. 

You remember that evening vividly. It was the first time you fantasized about Joel. Because the shirt wrapped you up and smelled of his musk and deodorant. It brought on a certain warm fuzziness in your tummy. The shirt had been incorporated so much in your wardrobe these last two years or so, you had forgotten its origin. But it was Joel’s.

And now you were standing here in front of him, his shirt draped over your body like an oversized blanket, showing the curves of your tits. He was fantasizing about you too. Fucking you while wearing his shirt.

There was an undeniable tension that now settled between the two of you, one you surely couldn’t satisfy in his driveway. But that didn’t mean Joel didn’t feel the same way. 

His hold on your hip tightened, your lips parting in surprise as his other hand came to your waist and hoisted you up onto the tailgate of his truck. 

He was hot, possessive of your body wrapped in his shirt. 

“Does it look like I don’t want you?” Joel’s voice was husky, lust filled. You liked getting this sort of reaction out of him. His question caused an ache in you, white heat pooling in the base of your stomach. 

Your neediness for him returned. Addicted to his touch, you felt a rush of adrenaline pulse through your body. Joel parted your legs with his body by standing between them, your little fists gripping his large biceps as you tried to regain your bearings. He was so big and burly, wide set shoulders, and a toned chest. You wanted to see him shirtless, examine his body when your time together wasn’t so limited. 

“Joel,” his name dripped off your lips with desperation, sweet like honey. He knew how you said his name when you wanted him. It brought back vivid memories of you kneeling in front of him in his woodshed.

Comfort brought you back, knowing it was safe to lean in and start kissing his stubbled neck. You didn’t want to kiss his lips, it still felt too intimate. Joel picked up on your hesitations and silently obeyed. 

Once you got to the base of his neck by the collar of his shirt, he let out a surprisingly loud grunt that he tried to jam down into silence but had failed. It caught you off guard, the ways he displayed his pleasure.

You moved back in, eager to duplicate the noise as you paid special attention to his sweet spot. You suckled and glided your teeth over the pinpoint before he forced himself away. 

“Keep it below the collar, sweetheart.” His twangy southern drawl was drenched in pleasure.

You smirked as you tugged at the collar gently with your teeth, letting it go and seeing it snap back into place around his tan neck. 

His lips found the crook of your jawline, his lips brushing your earlobe as he took it between his teeth and gently nibbled. The sensation struck a nerve down your center, a weak whine echoing against the collar of his shirt as you tried to stay quiet. 

The air had warmed up with the sun’s presence, the birds starting to chirp. Your parents could wake up any minute now, being the early risers they were. 

You pulled away to gauge his reaction. Joel was looking between you and the horizon carefully. He was debating. You both had so little time. 

“Your parents.” He pointed out, his voice ridged with pain as he planted his body between yours, his large palms splayed on your lower back and upper thigh with his fingers ghosting your sleep shorts.

“Work.” You reminded, lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, fingers delicately brushing over the faded Miller Contracting logo on his breast pocket. 

You’re compelled to tell him that you need him. Because you do. You need him terribly. 

There was a silence, a deliberation of the masses. Stop while you’re ahead, at least you and Joel realized you were on the same page about wanting more. You could let him go, you should let him go. Meet up another time when it was less risky. 

“You’re not pulling away.” Your whisper broke his thoughts. Your long lashes fluttered, and your eyes were filled with an eagerness only Joel could satisfy. 

He rolled his head around, jaw tight before shaking his head. 

“Well, you have needs.” His words were filled with grit, promise. Be quick. 

Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, feeling the planes of his back under your small palms. Both of Joel’s big hands moved under your t-shirt, your lips parting at the feeling of his calloused and rough hands traversing your soft body. He liked how soft you were, you could tell by the way he was delicately exploring you with his lips plastered on your neck. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whisper, grinding your hips against his desperately while one of your hands wound into the damp curls at the base of his neck. He could use a haircut soon, the longer strands winding around your fingers.

His body loomed so much over you that you were arching your spine, your legs desperately wrapping loose around his waist until he had sufficiently guided you onto your back. 

Suddenly his presence lifted. You didn’t realize you were seeing stars until he pulled away. He had way too much of an effect on you. 

“Don’t have time to fuck you right, pretty girl.” His words made you puff out a desperate sigh. 

“But-” 

“But you have needs.” He finished for you, your head feverishly nodding. The truck bed had odd ribs, half your back raised up an inch while your other half was on a little slant. It was uncomfortable to lay your head down on. Once Joel was tugging down your sleep shorts, you were quick to forget the discomfort. 

A heavy breath left you as Joel tossed your shorts over his tool belt in the truck bed beside you, feeling him pull your body closer to the edge of the truck bed with your legs pried open for him. 

Your eyes widened as he sunk to the ground, jaw dropping as your eyes looked to the sky. Holy shit.

“Joel-” You clenched your eyes closed. “Outside? Are you serious?” Your scolded whispers were useless. Now that Joel knew you had these needs, he wasn’t going to let you be underserved. 

He perched one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread to the side and held open by the warm palm of his hand. You could feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, your walls fluttering as he came closer and closer to your core with each kiss to the exposed skin. 

“On the tailgate, Joel?” You whimpered, a flash of concern passing over your face. 

“I know how much you love the truck, baby.” Son of a bitch. 

You wished every second with him right now wasn’t fleeting. You wished he could take his time. But the both of you were so wound up anyway, you were happy just to have him be a guest between your legs. 

Joel’s beard stubble tickled your thighs, his warm lips leaving a wet trail to your cotton underwear. Your hands needed to stay busy, one planting itself against one of the ribs of the truck bed and the other fisting his toolbelt that adorned a Carhartt patch. 

Joel’s mouth was absent for a moment. He was admiring you. Admiring you with your legs spread for him in his Longhorns shirt that was several sizes too big on you. Heat chased through your body, a sly little smirk on your lips. 

“Time is of the essence, Joel.” 

He didn’t say anything back. He was staring at the wet spot that had formed through the material of your panties. He hummed, cocky satisfaction filling him to the brim. 

Joel placed an excruciatingly soft kiss over your covered mound that had you writhing under him eagerly. His palm planted your thigh down again, feeling you quiver under his hold. 

You swallowed a lump down your throat as he pulled your underwear to the side, out of his fucking way. He was seeing you for the first time. It made your chest heave with shakier breaths. 

You were glistening for him, wet and gleaming in the sunshine that was starting to dance across the lake and over the truck. Panic flooded your core. He was taking his damn time. You needed him now. 

“Joel-” you warned again, but it was too late. 

His nose nuzzled against your clit as he flattened his tongue and licked up your center, tasting you properly. Your head dug into the truck bed, a loose moan leaving your parted lips as you closed your eyes and experienced a sweet paradise. His tongue flooded you with his saliva, Joel’s taste buds in galore as he tried you for the first time. 

You wondered if he thought about you tasting you like this before. The thought as well as his head between your legs left you humming in appreciation. 

Your free hand found its purpose, nestling your fingers into Joel’s hair while his head made gentle nods against your core. His jaw was slack, mouth lodged open as he consumed your sex in its entirety. He didn’t leave one centimeter of you unmarked. He commandeered the landscape like it was his territory, his possession. 

Puffs of his name left your mouth, you couldn’t help but be vocal when he made you feel this good. 

Joel’s tongue moved now with purpose, precision. He lapped at your entrance, tongue dipping in to feel your tight walls before moving back up and around your swollen clit. He was discovering you, what made you tick, what made you burn with passion and lust.

You held back moans of his name, bringing Joel’s shirt you wore up into your mouth by the collar to bite down onto. Your muffles were concealed by the material for now. 

You ground your hips lightly into his face, finding a rhythm you liked. He lets you. He wants you to feel good. 

Thumps of your heart pounded against your chest, Joel’s tongue still working perfect circles and swipes at your clit. He pulled away just for a moment to wet his fingers, you watch through hooded eyes. His amber ones flick to yours. Can I?

 You nod your head, a silent and desperate yes. 

He pursed his lips, face pierced with concentration as he pushed his middle finger into you, your walls welcoming the intrusion with a flood of arousal to allow him deeper. You took in a shaky gasp as he filled you to the knuckle.

“Fuckk-” you said a little too loud, your eyes widening as you covered your mouth and got a well-deserved glare from Joel. 

“Can’t hold yourself together, can ya, pretty girl?” His voice was as rough as gravel. 

You couldn’t even answer him back, the threads that held together your integrity were slowly plucking loose.  

You whimpered like crazy, the shirt swallowing as much of the noise as it could, but the rhythm of his finger and his mouth returning to your clit was sending electric currents through your entire body. You were short-circuiting with Joel’s tongue and fingers playing with your pussy. 

Joel’s mouth was warm, the taste of you a new hunger for him. You could hear his jeans scuff against the ground. He was trying to hold himself steady. The realization made you throw your head back, losing the shirt as a vice as you gripped his strands tighter between your knuckles. 

“Fuck, Joel--, ohmygod-” you whimpered quietly. The slurping of your cunt was louder than your words. The noise felt so loud in your pounding ear drums, you were worried it would wake the neighbors. The neighbors being your parents and Joel’s daughter.

You were close, even with just one of his fingers inside of you, you were close. You 

weren’t sure if it was because of your pent-up sexual tension, your vibrator dying, or your fingers not doing you justice. Maybe it was the fact that it was Joel Miller, but you were holding onto a very thin rope on the verge of snapping. 

You pulled your shirt up, releasing his toolbelt as your hand fondled your tits. You could feel him smirk against your thighs as you pinched at your hardened round nipples. 

“Such a pretty girl.. Taste so fuckin’ good too.” His words reverberate against your core, the vibrations tickling your clit and making you whine his name. His compliment caused a certain warmth in your chest.

Your head lulled from side to side. He wasn’t letting you know peace once he added a second finger. You had to take a moment to adjust but Joel could feel it, he knew exactly what to do and when. He was so seasoned, experienced, he’d be the first guy to make you cum like this. 

Your thigh against his head clenched tighter around his shoulder, keeping him in close against your core as he continued to work his tongue in figure eights around your clit. The soothing circles were creating a harmonious rhythm, your stomach felt like it was going to fall through a trapdoor. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

Then he tried something new. 

A loud gasp left your lips, your body scraping its way to sit up on your elbows as you watched him nibble and suckle at your clit. Your elbow had nicked his exposed flathead screwdriver in the process, a hiss seething from your mouth. It didn’t matter now. All your mind could focus on was Joel and his hellish tongue. 

The suckling at your clit unlocked something undiscovered, your lips parting in fascination before your head fell back and landed on the tops of your shoulders as you looked to the heavens with blurry vision. 

A lazy smirk was plastered on your face as he held you in place. You weren’t going anywhere.

Heated pants left your mouth, unable to breathe with the new sensation. The sucking was a distinct sensation, one you liked. You could feel his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitive bud. It made your thighs twitch, and your walls flutter around his still pumping fingers. 

Joel’s digits moved gently with their thrust, a gasp of his name flooding the air as he curled them deep, massaging your spongy walls. 

You were breathless. You could barely muster up anything besides his name weakly on your lips. You tried to tell him, but it was already too late. 

“J-Joel I’m-- I’m cominggg, shit,” you moaned out a little too loud. The whole valley around you echoed, or so it seemed. Joel’s protective grip tightened, your hips convulsing as you came over his tongue. He fucking loved it. He held you there and took you for everything you were worth.

You dropped to your back once more, his fingers still working a slow rhythm that he was insistent on not breaking until your walls stopped fluttering around his knuckles. You were still trying to come down to Earth when he licked you clean, your body twitching every time he flicked his tongue against your throbbing clit on purpose. Fucking asshole. 

Your hold on his hair loosens. You can’t help but make a face at the sight of him. Wild curly locks, mouth and chin covered in your slick, slightly flushed cheeks. He looked just as fucked as you did. He looked submissive on his knees, his eyes gleaming as he looked to you. 

You watch with obsession as he mindlessly pops his two fingers past his lips, licking them clean of your slick. Such a compliment. 

He guided your leg off his shoulder and put your underwear back in its place. 

You leaned up on your elbows, still seeing stars. Joel stood up from the ground and brushed any residual dirt and dust off his jeans. He brought his hand up and toyed with his jaw, meaty fingers adding pressure into the masseter muscle as he worked to relieve the tension that had built while going down on you with such dedication. 

You weakly sat up, the slotted ribs of his truck bed making indents in the flesh of your arms and thighs. Brands of your filth. Your big shirt fell back into place, your legs swinging lightly as they hung off the truck bed. You glanced at the back of your arm, seeing the scrape from his tools. You’d be fine. 

Once you turned straight to face Joel once more, you noticed he was fighting back a little smile about something, his hands on his hips and his knee cocked out.

“What?” You ask, trying to scoot further down the tailgate. 

“Nothin’.” He said gruffly, taking you by your hips and lifting you with ease like a ragdoll back onto the ground. His eyes stayed on the floor, your curious gaze following his down to your fluffy slippers. 

“Oh.” You muster up, clicking the toes together. 

“They’re uh… cute.” He tried to compliment, still with a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Shut up. They’re slippers.” You griped, your hand coming up to wipe away the glisten on his chin. He took over, pinching the collar of his shirt between his fingers and bringing it up to wipe away what was left of you. It was oddly attractive. 

He reached past his toolbox and belt, handing over your black sleep shorts after feeling over the material for a moment with a swipe of his thumb. 

You muster up a thanks, looping one foot in and then the other before you adjusted the band around your waist, the orange t-shirt falling back into place at your thighs. 

You couldn’t help but look around, the serenity of the early morning hours would only last so long on the lake. People liked to walk their dogs and jog, you didn’t want anyone reporting gossip. 

You turned back to Joel and assessed him. The Texas sun was already making both of your skin swelter, despite it being just past sunrise. 

You took in a sharp breath to say something, pursing your lips to keep them shut. Joel looked at you expectantly. 

“What?”

You shook your head and shrugged, holding your hands behind your back as you teetered on your feet. 

A stern expression passed over his face. “What?” He pressed harder. 

You tried to smother a laugh. “Your hair, Joel.” 

With an annoyed sigh, Joel amused trying to tousle his curls into place with the assistance of his truck’s driver-side mirror, grumbling a few curse words in response before leaving it be. 

You admire him, how handsome he looks so effortlessly. You suddenly became glaringly aware of how you looked right now. No makeup, baggy clothes, could use a shower. Fuck. 

“I gotta get goin’, already late.” Joel said as he returned  to the tailgate, lifting it with ease and slamming it into place with a few sharp snaps. “I’ll see you. And I’ll message you.” 

A small smile ticked at one half of your mouth, nodding. It was a promise. “Please call it texting, Joel.” 

He furrowed his brows as he looked over your face. “What difference does it make?”

You snickered and shrugged. “How old you sound.” 

Cue the classic Joel Miller eye roll. “Fine. Textin’.”

“How can you be working on a Saturday? That feels illegal.” 

This mustered up a short little chortle from Joel. “It’s not technically working, that’s why.” 

Your head curiously tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

Joel shrugged, avoiding your eye contact as he looked past his truck and to the lake. 

This was what you had to deal with. Trying to get information out of Joel was an investigative effort, one you didn’t have the energy to dig into at the moment. You finally felt tired after your week of restlessness. 

You waved each other off, your face electric as you turned away from Joel and snuck back inside without a peep. As soon as you lay back in bed, feeling your heart thumping after your meet-up with Joel, you heard the door to your parent’s room crack open, and your father’s obnoxious morning yawn followed accordingly. Couldn’t have cut it any closer.

Finally, you felt sleep caressing the edges of your mind. Not a beat after your head hit the pillow, you felt your phone vibrate beside you. With hazy eyes, you turned it over in your palm and squinted at the brightness. 

joel miller Anything I can do to get in your good graces again?

You instantly smiled, lazy fingers typing a response. 

how about a movie night? 

He took a moment to respond. You could see him thinking it over in your mind’s eye. 

joel miller Fine. 

Your face lit up as you quickly took advantage of him owing you one. 

and I can pick the movie?

You could practically feel Joel’s eye roll from a mile away. 

joel miller Jesus. Fine. Tomorrow night. 

Tomorrow was perfect. Sarah said she would be on a camping trip and your parents would be visiting old school friends in a neighboring town for drinks and dinner. 

tomorrow night it is, mr. miller 

joel miller Whatever you say sweetheart.

---

wanna read part 3? read cherry!

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