#tlou au
cxrdycxps · 2 days
Interruption • Joel Miller
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⚠️ Smut, f!reader, no y/n used ⚠️
Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist • Interruption Masterlist
“Happy birthday!” You cheered, passing off the card to the woman of the hour. Sarah smiled, holding her arms out for a hug. You wrapped her up tightly and squeezed before letting go. “You look amazing.”
And she did, the color of her dress made her skin look luminous, her eyes shining brightly. She waved away your compliments, instead turning to the man behind her.
“This is Jason.” She introduced and you smiled, extending your hand to the partner she had told you so much about. “I feel like you two should already know each other.”
“I feel like I do know you.” You laughed when he spoke and released his hand.
“No doubt you heard some pretty choice words about me.” You told him and Sarah smiled ruefully. It was true that as Sarah’s boss the pair of you had a rocky start.
You were the head of the biggest publishing office in Austin and Sarah was your assistant. You had fought tooth and nail to get to where you were now. Fighting over men’s voices that would try to drown you out.
You wanted Sarah to be ready for that. To someday be an editor herself. She didn’t know it but you’d been training her to take over the position for editor of Biographies. Her favorite type of book to read.
There had been a rocky beginning when you had been tough on her, making sure she had what it took. You liked how she wasn’t afraid to fight you on important things.
You liked her.
It wasn’t until the last few months that both of you had developed the close friendship you shared now. After two years of being your assistant, a family emergency had pulled you away from your job. One that had turned your life upside down.
Sarah had stood to the task, keeping things running smoothly without anyone knowing you hadn’t even been in Texas, never mind the office.
So here you both were now, inseparable at work and slowly becoming so outside of work too. Starting with her thirtieth birthday party.
You had been hesitant to attend, parties with colleagues had never been your thing but here you were.
You had donned the last of the dresses you had left over from your twenties, feeling like a total farce now that you were closer to forty than thirty.
But you deserved to get dressed up and let loose everyone once in a while. So here you were, not feeling as much out of place as you had expected. There were plenty of people your age.
Including what had to be the most attractive man you had ever seen.
He was standing by the bar, one elbow propped up on it, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He had a flannel shirt on, sleeves rolled up and forearms on display. The kind of display that left you weak in the knees.
The man was big all over. Big hands, big shoulders, broad chest and biceps that bulged against the fabric of his shirt.
Your mouth actually watered when you first set eyes on him and you were a little embarrassed as you excused yourself from Sarah and Jason, pushing your way through the crowd to the bar.
You stayed as far as you could get from the man but it didn’t take him long to notice you as you flagged down the man working the bar and ordered yourself a Long Island Iced Tea.
“That bad of a week?” You didn’t have to look to know it was him. He had abandoned his companion to muscle in beside you at the bar, resting his glass as he turned to face you.
“Haven’t had a drink in a while. Go hard or go home, right?” You asked, passing off your card to the bar man. “Put Sarah’s drinks on my tab tonight.”
“That’s mighty generous of you.” You told yourself you would’ve done it anyway. You had planned to buy Sarah’a drinks all along. Having her father be the most handsome man in the room and knowing it would impress him was only an added bonus.
“She deserves it. Everything she’s done for me this year? I don’t think a couple of drinks could even begin to cover it.” You told him honestly, stirring your drink idly with your straw.
“Well the bad news is, she drinks like her daddy so you better be ready for the shock when you see your total.” He teased and you tilted your head with a coy smile.
“I see she also gets her charm from her daddy.” You raised your eyebrows and he laughed, his hand out between you.
“I’m Joel, Sarah’s old man, which you’ve already guessed.” He introduced himself and you shook his hand and gave him your own name.
“I’m Sarah’s boss.” You told him and he narrowed his eyes at you before pursing his lips. You knew that look. He was probably the one who had heard all about how you were an epic bitch who ran Sarah around like a dog. “You may not agree but it was for her own good. Needed to be sure she could hold her own.”
Joel looked abashed that you could guess what he had been thinking but you let it go when the song changed and you asked him about the music.
It started a conversation about music which lead to movies. The pair of you had ended up in a booth, your chin resting on your palm as you listened to him talk.
He disappeared only once when it was time to bring out the cake. He stood proudly beside his daughter as Jason held the cake for her. You watched him, drink in hand and he winked at you.
You couldn’t help clenching your thighs. Excusing yourself to the bathroom to fix your lipstick and take a second to cool down.
Sarah stepped up behind you in the mirror and you smiled sheepishly at her. She didn’t say anything for a second, just rolled her eyes.
“You’re gonna sleep with my dad, ain’t you?” Sarah asked and you stared back at her in the mirror, chewing on your lip.
“Is it like really awful if I do?” You asked her and she laughed, throwing her head back. “Cause I won’t, if it’ll bother you. I’ll leave right now and we can pretend it never happened.”
“Ah I don’t care if you put the screws in him. I just don’t want to hear about it like I heard about the obnoxious mouth breather or the way too into feet guy.” You laughed at Sarah who scrunched her nose up at the thoughts of the last two men you had slept with. “I don’t wanna know a damn thing.”
“That PTO you put in for last week? It’s approved.” You told her and she laughed at you. “You can have an extra week if your dad is as good of a lay as he looks.”
“Ew, get out of here.” She pushed you towards the doorway and you laughed at her. She shoved at you as you both walked down the hallway and walked straight into Joel who was chatting with Tommy, Joel’s brother you had learned.
“Now remember dad. Wrap it before you tap it, not all accidental pregnancies are as cool as I am.” Sarah nudged her father, stealing his drink as the pair of you attempted to gather your composure.
“You’re fired. Effective immediately.” Tommy and Sarah laughed loudly as Joel handed you the drink you had left him with while you were in the bathroom. “Have your desk cleared out by morning.”
You tried not to overtly react to Joel’s hand resting on the small of your back while you all laughed as a group but it didn’t take long before Tommy and Sarah made themselves scarce.
“Didn’t think I’d need my daughters approval this late in life.” Joel told you quietly with a chuckle and you tilted your head.
“Approval for what, Mr Miller?” You asked, stepping closer to him. “I hope you don’t think I’m that easy of a lay. Don’t you know sex before marriage is a sin?”
“Tomorrows Sunday. I’ll bring you to confession.” He muttered before ducking his head down to kiss you, the hand on the small of your back pushing you closer to him.
“Where’s your manners? Thought you were a gentleman.” You teased Joel in the back of the Uber. His face was pressed into your neck and one of his hands was attempting to maneuver between your thighs.
“I am. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll make you cum so many times you don’t remember your goddamn name.” Joel whispered against your skin and you closed your eyes against the spike of desire. “I know that pretty pussy of yours is aching for me. Been squeezing your thighs together all damn night.”
“Joel.” You laughed, shocked at his turn of attitude. Gone was the polite man who had helped you into your jacket when leaving and promised Sarah he’d see you home safe. “We’re not far.”
“Not close enough.” He grunted, kissing down the column of your neck as his hand slid under your dress. “I know you’re aching for it.”
Despite yourself, your legs fell open for him and you prayed the Uber driver couldn’t see his fingers sliding against your underwear, a low hum of approval from Joel. “Damn baby, I ain’t even touched you properly yet and you’re this wet?”
“Joel.” You whimpered his name and he ran his fingers up and down your slit through the thin layer of fabric between them.
“I’m gonna wreck this pretty pussy. I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first. Then my tongue. And then I’ll split you open on my cock.” Joel promised and you latched your fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth to yours.
You promised yourself you’d tip the Uber driver so well for the moan you let out when Joel slipped one finger inside you.
You let your head fall back as he used the palm of his hand to rub against your swollen clit. You arched against him and tightened your hand in his hair. “Gonna fucking-“
Your phone sounded from your purse and you paused. Joel urged you to ignore it but you couldn’t, scrambling to answer the call.
“Hello?” You prayed it wasn’t who you thought it would be but you knew. Even without checking the caller ID.
“It’s Ellie. She wants to come home. I’ve tried everything but she had a nightmare and now she-“
“I’ll be there soon. I’m just leaving the party. I’ll get the Uber to swing around.” You knew other parents weren’t equipped for Ellie but she had been so ready for a sleep over.
“I’m so sorry.” Dina’s mother apologized but you knew the fault lay entirely on your shoulders. You shouldn’t have let her go in the first place.
“No, please. I’ll be there soon. Tell her I’m coming.” You were pulling away from Joel, fixing your dress. He had drawn away from you, sensing the seriousness.
“I’ll let her know.” You hung up the phone and looked to Joel before leaning forward and asking the Uber driver to extend the journey after dropping Joel off.
“I’m sorry.” You told Joel, turning to look at him. “I didn’t think- I shouldn’t have.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Sounds important. Don’t worry about me.” He assured you as the Uber rolled to a stop outside his home. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just my kid, she needs me.” If Joel was shocked to find out you had a child he didn’t say anything. He just nodded in understanding, reaching into his pocket and tossing a couple of notes on the passenger seat. “That should cover it. I hope she’s okay. That kid of yours.”
The door shut behind Joel and you sighed, fixing yourself up as best you could, using a compact in your purse to fix your smudged make up.
“I hope she’s okay too.”
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joliettes · 8 hours
Torn Apart • A.A.
Cop!Abby Anderson x Reader, slight Ellie Williams x Reader (AU)
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W/C: 3.25k (for warnings check the series masterlist)
A/N: omg heyy!! so excited for yall to read this, it's been in my drafts for nearly a month aaand i'm finally serving as i should hehe, any commentary pls don't hold it back i wanna know what yall think, likes and reblogs r very appreciated, enjoy my luvs <3
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you wake up to the sound of Riley's heavy breathing beside your ear, you groan at her in your sleepy voice "fucking hell Ri what in the hell are u doing"
she chuckles at your annoyance " you've got to wake ur ass up cherry aaand get yourself ready to go" patting you on the butt u swat at her hand, flipping yourself on your back.
"what time is it" she checks her phone "eh its 10 it'll be better if we could get to the cabin quick". you hum at her, your body feeling absolutely wrecked, you glance at her opening one eye only.
"when is Ellie coming?" god knows you can't be late when Ellie pulls up in her white trashed minivan, she'll pester you endlessly just to get a rise out of you. 
"eh you know she had to go to the gas station to fill her lady up".
you drag yourself out of the bed and into the conjoined bathroom hopping over a few clothes scattered her and there on the floor with the intention of brushing your teeth and getting ready, you look at your reflection getting jump scared "fuck i really look like shit" you hear a chuckle through the left ajar bathroom door. 
"yeah well that's what you get when you fall asleep really late talking to a hot sidechick even though you know we'll have to hit the road early" 
"ugh spare me your yapping pleaseee and besides i think i like this one" 
you're going to stay at Joel's new built modern summer cabin for a week, he says it's homey and it’s nice and all but there's a fifty percent possibility of not getting a good stable network there it actually scares you shitless.
you come out of the bathroom and put on some denim shorts and look for a summer appropriate top to wear "if you don't stop throwing everything on the floor!" you ignore her and continue going ballistic on the wardrobe, you huff " there is literally nothing to wear" she looks at you in utter disbelief " are you kidding me right now?". you get saved from her usual wrath when you hear the doorbell ring once which is definitely not Ellie otherwise the doorbell will be burnt already.
"I'll get it" riley says before walking out to the door in quick strides, you hear Dina and Riley's yelling at each other so you put on the top u picked hurriedly and go to the living room " oh my god i missed you guys" before glancing at you behind Riley's back and jumping at you giving you the tightest hug she could.
 muffled by her hug " ungh de i can't breath" she lessens and holds your shoulder like a teacher giving you an advice "we're gonna have so much fun if you AAAND Ellie get along, pleaseee?? do it for me if not out of respect" she looks at you pleadingly.
"ugh she isn't even here yet" you roll your eyes looking at anything but Dina's puppy eyes, glancing at riley who is now sipping on a cup of strawberry juice on the counter and she wiggles her eyebrows at you in an encouraging manner "you two should fuck already you know that right?" your eyes widen and you blow raspberries at her.
"oh no way in hell am i gonna sleep with that dirtbag who refers to a minivan as the lady" you shake your head at them in absolute disbelief. "but I'll try to be civil even if she's a bitch" Dina sits on the couch looking at you.
" I see the way she looks at you ALL THE TIME, she's onto you cherry" giving you an honest smile.
you hear the infamous minivan horn going off outside opening the curtain to cheek and you see her, a cigarette dangling from her pink lips, wearing her usual boring attire and them sunglasses. and Jesse's there with her, you mutter under your breath "here comes hell" riley comes to open the door having your bags ready from the day before "will you please just be nice to her?" you scrunch your nose at her before running to the room to bring your handbag and crouch down to put on your shoes.
Jesse greets you with a hug and tries to pick all of your bags at once grunting.
she doesn't get out of the van, just looking at you through her sunglasses with an amused look before she yells "aren't u a sight to see cherry pie" you ignore her and walk to put the smaller bag in the van before Dina comes and hands Riley the house keys.
loading up in the van sitting between riley and Dina, Ellie takes off her sunglasses looking at you through the mirror while you hold eye contact with her "eyes on the road pothead" everyone turns to u, you just couldn't hold it in at all, she smirks at you "wouldn't you love that huh?" before Jesse turns on the radio connecting his phone to the aux, riley chimes in "give it to me Jesse jess make me hear your sweet melodies" he smiles turning to her "just for u we've got the best of tunes Riri" I Got You Babe by Etta James starts playing and Jesse turns the speaker up.
the windows roll down, the smell of greenery and earth hitting your nose, wind smacking you square in the face and i got you babe by Etta James starts playing, Dina looks at you and everyone starts yelling from the top of their lungs.
People say that we don't know
What love is, or how to make it grow
Well, I don't know if all that's true
'Cause you've got me and baby, I've got you
Oh, babe, I got you, babe, I got you, babe
Ellie starts doing the saxophone bit whilst trying to drive properly, you hit her shoulder to get her to pay attention while everyone's jamming, she holds your hand into hers and bites your finger chuckling. you yank your hand mouthing at her "motherfucker" before you go back yelling with everybody again.
I've got flowers in the spring, yeah
I've got you, I've got you to wear my ring
And when I'm sad, you're a clown
And when I get scared, you're always around, oh
multiple songs in and you're getting pretty drowsy, laying your head onto Dina's shoulder ready to make up for Riley waking you up from your sweet slumber, Dina lays her head on top of yours and you doze off for the rest of the way to Houston. you get shaken up by riley again feeling like a grump but shaking it off when you hear Jesse talking about a cop signalling for Ellie to pull over, you straighten up watching the 5'8 cop get out of the police car, coming up to Ellies side taking off her sunglasses before putting her hand on her waist.
"Can I see your ID? and where are y'all heading to?" Ellie hands the cop her ID and glances at Jesse for a moment before trying to hide her annoyance while you try to fix yourself rolling the window on Dina's side down looking at the cop from under your lashes.
"we're go-" cutting ellie off, giving the cop the most genuine please fuck me eyes "we're actually heading to the millers new cabin" the cop's eyes widen before she gives you the most charming smirk. you lower your eyes trying to be subtle but not very subtly checking her out reading her badge "A. Anderson'' looking at her fitted figure wearing some tight blue jeans, a button up shirt topped with a cream jacket with her badge hanging off of her waist, and them cowboy boots imagining how you'd like to give it to her good.
Dina struggles while half of your body is out of the window over hers "cherry i cant brea-" you look at her shushing her before directing you eyes to the officer's eyes before she continues " oh that new cabin, i thought you're a bunch of kids trying to investigate the place" you look at the officer in a dreamy way " oh no not at all but quick question officer Anderson?" she looks at you with curiosity. 
"Yes ma'am?" in all seriousness you ask "just call be cherry please and are you by any chance married?" everybody whips their head at you in disbelief over your boldness even if you've always been like that, the officer chuckles at you before shaking her head no at you and handing Ellies ID "why are you offering miss cherry?" Ellie whips her head to the officer, the look of absolute hatred on her face "can we go no-" cutting her off AGAIN smiling at the officer "maybe i am doing just that officer".
she pulls a card out of her back pocket and hands it to you. "call me Abby and hit me up whenever you need something, my father's cabin is right beside yours and stay out of trouble it's dangerous out here" you take the card out of her extended hand and nod your head so fast at her you might get a concussion " oh i bet it is officer Abby thank you for being so thoughtful" Abby taps the car twice for Ellie to start her up and drives away mimicking you sucking up to the officer.
Five minutes later, the van stops in front of the two story cabin, quite cozy with big windows, the air smelling very earthy prompting you to take a deep breath.
Everyone gets out of the van including Ellie, they start taking the bags out to head in. she looks at you with a condescending look, almost disappointed.
"what?" you roll your eyes at her, folding your arms and giving her a mean look, "you just had to do that huh cherry" she is absolutely fuming that her face had gone red with the way she’s holding it in. 
acting clueless you smile tilting your head to the left at her with a laugh bubbling in your guts. "do what exactly, have fun for a fucking minute?" you smirk at her. she squares up in your space looking you down. before Jesse comes and hands her one of the heavy bags "Ellie would you hold this for me" handing it to her "stop and go unlock the cabin for us jezz".
she never breaks eye contact with you "yeah man i got it" giving you a warning look that tells you she'll be dealing with you later.
you scoff quietly and help them by carrying a bag while Ellie unlocks the door, Dina tutting at you disappointingly. you shrug at her balancing the bag and walking up the stairs and into the cabin with everyone following behind you. you hear Riley go off.
 "oh my god this place is amazing"
"tell me about it, i didn't even believe him when he told me he'll give me the key to stay here for the summer" Ellie goes on while walking to the fridge and reading the yellow sticky note Joel probably put for her to see picking it and reading it "ugh he had to write down some rules".
"yeah well you can't really blame him"
says Dina coming in carrying the beer cooler and putting it on the counter. before opening the fridge and crouching down loading the beer inside the coldest part of the fridge
with all your belongings inside, riley huffs and lies down on the sofa facing the counter and you follow her grunting from sitting in the bus for nearly 3 hours.
"this old man really thinks we'll go to bed at 'a sensible hour' ugh what a boomer"
you chime in muffled by your head on the small pillow beside riley " well Ellie i won't lie to you, your dad is at beekeeping age. i’ll let him father me however he likes" prompting Ellie to make a gagging noise at your comment. and Riley to chuckle beside you.
"if only Sarah was here man you'd know how to shut the fuck up for a minute, i swear you just have to do this and ruin everything"
"the fuck you mean 'i ruin everything' you fuck face" you grunt at her picking yourself up off of the couch and walk to the fridge, opening it to get yourself a bottle of water. "and Sarah is a beautiful grown woman, you ellie miller is a booger eater" opening the bottle chucking it with absolute thirst with Ellie looking at you with utter shock.
Jesse starts full on laughing hands on his knees at what you said, making Ellie look at him as if he betrayed her for life "what the actual fuck Jesse, you could back me up at least!"
"well Ellie you did eat them boogers back in the day"
Dina stand up and put her hands on her hips "alright guys we need to assign our rooms"
" i want the one facing the lake" you go off cutting everyone, sticking your tongue to Ellie who looks absolutely pressed by you. "aaaanndd riley will sleep with me, won't you baby" looking at her with pleading eyes "i love you but absolutely NOT i need my space please cherry" patting your head with her palm in an apologizing manner.
After the rooms get assigned, everybody starts heading up to change per Dina's requests to head to the lake, you open the bedroom's door, fling your handbag on top of the bed and shimmy out of your shorts and top. opening your bag and choosing a favorite two piece of yours, wrapping a light shawl around your hips and putting on some basic flip flops. you pick the card abby gave you deciding on calling her while sitting with Dina outside. 
jumping on your tiptoes down the stairs, seeing Jesse crouched in front of the fridge holding four beers for each of you and standing up with Ellie beside him before he hands her one.
 he notices you holding the card in one hand and your phone on the other "So you're calling her huh?" he says, smirking at you. Ellie mumbles under her breath something but you don't catch what she's saying. "yeah i mean she was totally into me and i want to have some fun while we’re here you know" you say winking at him before walking out the backyard and into where the lake is, seeing Riley and Dina sitting on the chairs around the firepit.
Dina looks at your hands while you dial the number
 "oh my god you are not doing this!" "whaattt yes i am doing it! i need some excitement, i can't just sit here with ellie breathing down my neck"
Riley scoffs "of course you're doing this, i won't even try to stop you, just put it on speaker"
you hit dial and put it on speaker, it rings three times before she picks up "officer Anderson" stoic and straight to the point it makes your core tingle.
you glance at Dina for a moment and she nods at you in a hysteric yet encouraging manner, you reply in a sultry voice " hey officer Anderson, ya missed me?" Abby full on cackles " it's Abby for you honey and yeah i might've thought about you a bit" "gosh i hope so because I've been thinking about you in them boots nonstop"
you start biting your lips remembering how she looked "when can i see you?" "So eager for me?" she asks in a condescending tone, "very very eager for you officer Anderson" she chuckles "oh, fuck you calling me officer like it doesn't turn you on just to say it"
you smile before hearing someone talk to her on the other side "o-oh sorry cherry i have to go you know duty calls, I'll see you later alright" "bye" and the line goes off. "wow that was something, so what will you be married to her in two months time?"
 riley asks you with a raised eyebrow only making you actually imagine marrying to Abby and building a family with her, daydreaming for a bit before shaking yourself awake 
"pfft no I'm not, I'm going for a dip". right before you stand up Jesse comes out of the sliding door with a weird look on his face, looking at you in particular.
“Sooo, ells invited cat” 
Ellie comes in from behind him with cat trailing behind her like a lost puppy with a stupid smile blasted on her face, she looks at you with a red lipstick print on her cheek, guilt can be seen behind her green eyes. Yours prickling with unshed tears you bite your lips before going ahead and jumping into the weirdly cold lake, coming up for a much needed breath of air you see a figure on the other side of the lake which you can’t pinpoint of it’s even real before you hear your name being called by ellie.
“I genuinely think we shouldn’t talk right now, wouldn't want your girlfriend to get jealous”
She feels in a predicament looking at you in disbelief “she isnt my girlfriend”
“Well it definitely felt like it ellie” looking at her hunched form, playing with her nails, looking very nervous and on edge, She looked good. Such a shame she had to ruin what y'all once could've had. You keep yourself afloat and play with the water to fill the silence and maybe she’ll give up and leave but no, it's not an ellie thing to give up even though she kinda did give up on the both of you once.
“I had to cherry i swear, it wasn't my intention she just kept pressing and i blurted it out and she must've asked tess for the location or smthn’ “
You help yourself out of the lake before wrapping the shawl back on your wet form, looking at ellie over your shoulder, before walking away. hearing her whisper.
“I’m sorry”
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TAGLIST 🗞️: @liasxeatt
© 2024 Joliettes, All Rights Reserved
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trackinglessons · 3 months
cowboy abs! this is actually my fav piece ive done in like. forever.
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quotidianish · 3 months
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Creating ridiculous alternate universes is my newfound passion
Second post
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millerscoffee · 11 months
Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.
hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖
extra credit
6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)
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rating: 18+ MDNI
warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭
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When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.
Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?
Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.
Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.
“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.
“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?
“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”
“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.
“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”
You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.
“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”
“Are you busy tonight?”
What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–
“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?
“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”
“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”
“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.
A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.
According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.
Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.
He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.
“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?
“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.
“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.
What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?
Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”
“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.
“Do you drink?”
“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”
“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.
“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.
“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.
Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”
So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.
“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.
“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”
“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”
“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.
“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.
“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”
“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”
You suddenly feel silly.
You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.
“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”
That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.
“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”
Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.
It felt intentional.
He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”
“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!
Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.
“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”
It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.
“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”
There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.
“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”
Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.
There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?
“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.
“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”
Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.
“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.
How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?
How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?
It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.
It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.
And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.
It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.
You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.
But that only is another item to your list of naivety.
Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.
“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.
“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.
You want this.  You want Professor Miller.
“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.
But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”
“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.
“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”
You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.
Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.
“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?
Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.
“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.
“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.
Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.
Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.
“Sit.”  Joel commands.
Oh, fuck.
You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.
“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.
The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.
It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.
“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.
“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”
And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.
That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.
“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?
“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.
“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.
“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.
 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.
“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”
And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.
Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”
You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.
“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”
And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.
“Words.” He warns.
“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”
“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”
You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again
 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.
His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”
“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.
Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.
“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.
“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”
You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.
“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”
You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.
“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.
Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.
“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.
He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.
“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.
“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.
The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.
You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.
Makes you wriggle and laugh.
“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.
“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.
“I think I like that threat.”
“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”
“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”
“Next lesson.”
Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.
While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”
“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.
“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.
“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.
“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”
“Goodnight, doll.”
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val-cansalute · 18 days
☆ 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊 ☆
sub!ellie x dom!reader
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𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈𝚘𝚞, 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚝-𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚊'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙹𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘, 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎.
𝚊/𝚗: 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝-𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 kind of shitty really bad 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 that i absolutely despise but spent too long on to keep in the drafts 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝e𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 ♥︎
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It's been dark for a few hours now, light pooling into your room from the flicker of a candle and the red lava lamp you stole from Dina's room.
She's gone again and the apartment feels hollow. Still, you're sat at your desk working as the regimented tick of your clock beats on in the background.
A shuffle and the click of a door capture your attention.
Ellie's here. As per usual.
You let out a strained puff of air and swivel your chair around to face the source of the thud that’s now aggressively rubbing her eyes and sitting at the foot of your bed.
“Hm?” she croaks out.
“You bored?”
“Hmmm…” She finally looks up from her palms with slightly blood-shot eyes and freckled skin splotched pink to meet your inquisitive gaze.
“Dina said she was gonna watch Back to the Future with me and then she ditched me for Jesse… So, now I’m left with you, the roommate.”
“The roommate, huh? I see how it is. What if I beat your ass? Then what?”
Your attempt to lighten the tired atmosphere lacks much spark, but Ellie’s bored enough to bite. Her green eyes are illuminated by the dim glow of the lava lamp as she waves you off dismissively and, for a split second, they’re flecked with the purest gold you’ve ever seen.
You play it totally cool, with your arm strung over the backrest of your chair nonchalantly, as though you didn’t just witness a scene that will be burnt onto your retinas and play late at night when you’re trying to sleep.
“Pfft, like you could fight anyone.”   
You scoff indignantly, mock offended, and stand up from your seat, leaving it spinning behind you.
“Uhhh, at least I got meat on my bones.”         
“Yeah! And absolutely none of it is muscle.”
“You askin’ me to unleash the beast, E-bone?”
God, you become the biggest dork around her… It's like you both morph into your thirteen year old selves, sitting on Ellie's disheveled bedroom floor after school and bickering about anything and everything until Joel yells up about dinner being done.
Times were simpler. Then, you got older and the buzz you felt each time your hands brushed, which was so easy to downplay, gradually became gaping - virtually impossible to ignore five years down the line. Once the door was open, there was no looking back.
Didn't help that Ellie only got hotter and hotter.
The thought of losing her over something like this makes your stomach writhe inside you though, so you keep the fantasizing to a minimum. Kind of.
The apples of her cheeks puff out rosy in an unrestrained grin, as she announces,
“Bring it, dude. I’d like to see you try,”
“I’m gonna rip your non-existent balls off,”
“Oh, I am just shaking with fear!”
“Fuck off, you little greaseball,”
“Pfft, please, that’s just my aesthetic appeal. You’re gonna have to try harder than that to insult me, bud.”
Your mind flurries with a million responses but the beckoning of your open laptop, begging for your attention before the fast approaching deadline, cuts through the buzz with ease.
Unfortunately, you can’t just ignore it this time. You’ve got less than twenty four hours to complete the soul-draining assignment, and you've spent the last few hours sighing periodically as you looked over the mediocre jargon you’d written so far instead of adding anything.
But it’s so tempting to forget about the essay completely and let go: focus all your attention onto doing dumb shit with Ellie like you usually do.
“Okay, I do not have time for this, I’ve got a whole ass essay due.”
Ellie sits up with an exaggerated groan, tugging you in by the arm.
“You always have something due!”
“Not always… And, yeah, Ellie! That’s college.”
“Dude. You’re either studying or working all the time and you barely leave this room.”
“Hey, I happen to think it’s pretty cozy in here.”
Ellie rolls her eyes before taking in the contents of the room, scanning the papers and lone items of stationery cluttering, no, invading your cramped desk space.
“Yeahhh… real ‘cozy’ in here. Do you ever clean?”
“Oh, big talk from someone who lives in a literal pig sty! I'm working so this doesn't count. Plus, it’s paper mess, not actual junk.”                 
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least your bed’s comfortable…"
She turns her head to face you, watching your expression become slightly conflicted.
“Come on, dude, take a break from working for five minutes! Just five!”
You look back at her for a moment, at those eyes you desperately want to please even in the pettiest of situations, and sigh before sitting beside her.
“For the record, it won’t be ‘just five’, and you’re a bad influence on me.”
Ellie chuckles as the bed dips nearby with a soft creak.
“How am I a bad influence? I’m simply encouraging you to relax with me.”
The weird thing about your relationship is that, having been friends for so long, the bickering is intrinsically woven through every conversation you have, and it often leads to the kinds of petty arguments you're having now: the kind that you don't even remember the cause of.
“Uh, yeah?”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Shut up, Ellie.”
“You know what? Get out of my room.”
“Fine. Asshole.”
The kind of dumbass arguments that Joel would have to come in and alleviate without knowing the cause of either, because it was always something incredibly stupid anyway.
Joel's still back in Jackson though, while the two of you are miles away, and sulking's kinda pointless when there's no one around to see, so Ellie gets back up from her sprawled out position on the living room couch out of boredom and asks if she can come back in.
Same solution you used back when you were 12: you smirk deviously to yourself as you recall the memories before muttering,
“You can come in but you have to sit on the floor.”
Ellie scoffs, recognition evident in the unimpressed raise of her eyebrows. This pissed her off beyond measure back when you were kids, but now it weirdly brings on a sense of nostalgia, so she lets it slide, coming in and suppressing the small smile playing on her lips.
“Fine… Jackass.”
She lowers herself to the scratchy rug beneath your bed and leans against the wooden frame. She’s facing away like she used to too, always trying to avoid the embarrassment of having to look up at you. She still looks up over her shoulder at you with an exaggerated expression anyway though.
“Happy now?”
You look down at her and smirk.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You're really enjoyin' this, aren't you?”
“Yep! You know, you’re still so easy to work up. Must be pretty uncomfortable down there, huh?”
“Shut up, asshole. I’m waaaaay more cozy down here. This carpet's amazing; you're missing out. I could fall asleep any second.”
Ellie's voice rasps as she rambles on, looking up at you with those big eyes that make you weak in the knees, and you can't resist the urge to just reach out and ruffle the auburn tufts of hair laying chaotically on her head, smirking as you mutter,
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Ellie’s cheeks almost immediately flush. Her gaze begins to flicker away from you, no longer so unaware of the intricacies of holding eye contact.
She opens her mouth in shock, and then her eyebrow furrow quickly to cover up with a scoff,
“You are such a dick.”
“What? I didn't even do anything!”
“Dude, you do this every time and it pisses me off! You can cuss me out one minute and say you hate me and then be all corny the next?!”
“Okay, that was in the heat of the mo-”
“Yeah, right, 'in the heat of the moment.' You say shit like that every time we argue and you don't even apologize. At least be honest.”
Her expression looks earnest and it makes your heart contract a little tighter, the hot bite of guilt nipping at your insides. But something else stirs too.
You hate how attracted you are to her when she’s frustrated.
This room, with the warmth of body heat and candlelight intoxicating you and the red glow that casts over Ellie’s pretty face, makes the gaze she holds up at you so sweetly drowsier through the obscurant of her thick eyelashes, makes the swell of her bottom lip as she releases it from a harsh bite seem so much more enticing, makes you feel like your inhibitions are strapped to a ticking time bomb.
The pull is electrifying - more than magnetic, and you'd give anything to lay your skin onto hers, to feel each touch, so gentle, ignite your skin, and embrace her wholly. Consume doesn't even seem too strong a word.
“I don’t hate you, Ellie. Here, come sit."
You shift aside and pat the space next to you, watching intently as she huffs and rises to her feet before flopping down beside you.
Unbeknownst to her, all her movements are so much more sensuous now - you’re trying desperately to ignore the sliver of skin that showed as her shirt rode up her stomach when she got up, but it’s almost getting painful.
So much so that you have to physically drag your mind away from it.
“Anyway, have you had dinner yet?”
Ellie blinks a few times, caught in the crossover between the two completely separate conversations as she fumbles her way through a response,
“No, not yet. I was planning on ordering something later though. Why?”
“I’m starving.”
She chuckles and you feel the tense disposition of your muscles physically loosen.
“Oh, you’re hungry, huh? You want me to order food for you too, don't ya?”
“And you’ll do it because you’re the absolute coolest, most awesomest person in the whole entire world, right?”
She smiles softly, "Alright, alright, tell me something I don't know."
As your eyes meet, something in you clicks into place.
Your heart is thumping erratically in your chest. She’s so close; her hands are so near. You could lean in ever so slightly and your lips would meet.
For some reason, something in you is saying that it’s now or never, so the petrifying thoughts of any possible consequence arise again.
It’s realistic to be scared. That’s why you pushed down these feelings away for so long. But, in a moment of clarity, you realise your relationship is strong enough to withhold something like this, even if it would be devastating if Ellie didn’t feel the same way. You’ve known each other since you were children, your childhood homes are only a few houses away from each other, all your friends are friends, and even your parents are friends. There’s no escaping this.
Even if it doesn’t go as planned, you have to take the leap or you’ll never get over her.
“Thank you, Ellie... God, this is gonna take a really long time though, isn’t it?"
“Pfft, you’re such a baby. It’s gonna take like 30 minutes max, just chill.”
You smile, the thumping of your heart becoming supermassive. You can feel it filling your being and surrounding you completely. Then, you mutter,
“Maybe we can keep ourselves entertained in the meantime,”
and the seal is broken.
Ellie is perplexed. From where she sits on your bed, you’ve suddenly become a lot more tense, and your gaze bears into her much more sharply than she’s ever noticed before. But it makes her feel weird… in a good way, and her throat runs dry as she raises an eyebrow skeptically.
“And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?”
You shrug,
“Can I try something?”
“I’m kinda terrified but okay,” she chuckles
You hum, falling into a rhythm, the nervousness so intense that it numbs you.
“Lay back for a second.”
Ellie’s eyebrows draw together with a burning curiosity, feeling a heat rise in the pit of her stomach which seems to answer her unspoken questions.
She know what’s going to happen now, but it feels so surreal, it can’t be.
She shuffles back and lays into the embrace of your pillows, surrounded by the sweet scent of your perfume. She’s been dreaming of this moment as soon as she realized she saw girls differently.
How could she not? You've always been right next to her, and you were perfect in every way - you are perfect in every way. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and she thought you were beautiful as soon as she saw you for the first time, gazing at you with her jaw dropped for, most likely, a few too many seconds. Then it happened again one day when she was 16.
You’d both gone out to get ice cream and she became enraptured by the hazed look in your eyes as the liquid dripped down your chin and over the smooth skin of your hand, your soft hair, tussled by the summer breeze. Her breath caught in her throat as she scrambled to look away. She knew there was no turning back.
But most of all, you’re the one she goes to before anyone else, and it’s always been that way. You’re the only person that brings her a different kind of peace, that indica high, calmer than she feels with anybody else. You’re her girl. Always have been; always will be.
All the playful flirtation and lingering glances - she’d never imagined would really result in this.
 “What now?” she whispers, her voice coming out quieter than she intended for it to, giving her away in an instant. She clears her throat but you can't help but play into her discomfort, pleasure woven through the feeling you get when you make her needy. You already feel a buzz from the fact that she’s not pushing you away or playing you off. This was only ever a daydream in the past, but so, so much better than you'd hoped.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that; you just make sure you’re comfortable. Are you comfortable?”
She stutters through an answer, taken aback by the silkiness of your tone. God, she had dreamed about this so many times and never imagined you so like this, never imagined herself so submissive.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m comfortable… You… You aren’t fucking around, are you?”
“Fucking around? Gonna need you to be more specific, Els.”
She forces a gulp down her now dry throat, looking up at you and she mutters,
“Uh, I don’t know… Like… Like that one time you twisted my arm because you wanted to see-”
She hesitates, cutting herself off, her eyes drifting down to the curvature of your body that she’s wanted to feel for too long for just a split second.
“Can I touch you?” she splutters as soon as the thought enters her mind, overwhelmed with a sudden panic, her eyes flit up again to meet yours, flickering between each pupil in desperate search of any confirmation.
A shudder ripples through her body as your hands move closer, taking the lead before you give her the chance to. Her heart is racing.
“Can I touch you?”
She nods, almost too eagerly.
She curses internally.
You let your hand hover over her shoulder for a moment,
“Hmm, and where is it okay to touch you, Ellie?”
Ellie feels dangerously flustered. She tries to regain her composure, but it’s long gone out the window, and she’s like a handful of clay, soft and malleable, pervious under the sensational pressure of your fingertips.
A soft smile graces your lips.
“Thirty minutes.”
You run your hand down her arm, grazing the skin gently with your nails and then down her stomach to her hip under her shirt, taking time to fully feel the gentle grooves and curves of her body for the first time.
“Is this okay, Ellie?”
She lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your hand trailing over her skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. She swallows once more before replying, her voice unsteady.
“Yeah… Yeah, that’s fine. It feels… nice.”
Then, you place your palm on her ankle and begin to move up, ghosting your hand over her inner leg,
“I want you to tell me what feels good. Okay, Ellie?”
“Y-yeah. Sure. I can… I can do that.”
“Good. Good girl.”
You sit up and straddle her lap, and it catches Ellie off guard, suddenly feeling so much more at your mercy as you stare directly down at her, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her pink ear. Her breath hitches but she instinctively brings her hands to rest on your waist. You lean in to whisper,
“You look comfortable. Are you comfortable? I want you to feel good.”
And she tries to make sense of the fuzz in her brain to answer the influx of questions you’re asking. They’re barely keeping her grounded. Her hands move down to hold your thighs.
“Y-yeah, I’m good. You… You’re making me feel… good.”
“That’s good.”
Though you're dragging it out, teasing her because her neediness makes you wetter, eager to make her eager, you are just as needy, if not more. You're desperate to taste her, to be close to her, to feel her lips moving sensually with yours.
You place your hand over one of hers on your thigh and mutter, your words like the wisp of a feather caressing her skin,
“I’m gonna kiss you, Ellie, is that okay?
Ellie thinks she might die. The way her heart buffered in her chest once she processed your words felt too intense to not be her going into cardiac arrest. Either way, she's happy. What a way to go.
Somehow, all her feelings have culminated in this moment, in something she would never have expected, and her grip tightens to remind herself that that is really your body she’s feeling and this is really real.
She nods slowly, drowsy eyes meeting yours.
“Yeah… Yeah, yes, fuck, y-you can kiss me. Please.”
But, fuck, you just can't help teasing when she looks like she's yearning for you so sweetly that it makes your pussy flutter.
So, instead, you lean forward and kiss her forehead, listening to her labored breaths catch and watching her lips twitch in confusion when you pull back with your hands on either side of her head supporting you. You look her in the eyes and move one of them to caress the red stray hairs clinging to her face away.
“You look so beautiful."
“Th-thank you… You’re…”
It's obvious she's flustered, and it only makes you feel more high, so you pull back and kiss her cheek, mocking,
“Hm? You gonna finish that sentence, Els?”
“You’re- fuck… Y-you’re beautiful… too.”
“That’s my girl.”
You kiss the corner of her mouth and Ellie’s heart is beating hard enough for her to feel like her whole body is pounding as she squirms to lean into your touch.
“Y-your girl?”
“Yeah, Ellie.”
You lean in and finally connect lips, words blanketed by the contact.
“My girl.”
Ellie melts beneath you as you finally kiss her properly. Despite her usual nature, she finds herself completely powerless against the feelings coursing through her body. You’re completely overwhelming her senses, and you’ve never seen her like this.
She wraps her arms around your waist, and presses into the small of your back to pull you impossibly closer as she kisses you back deeply, losing herself in the moment.
You sink into her, deepening the kiss with impatience and roaming your hands along the expanse of her freckled skin while gently rutting your hips into her.  
Ellie moans against your mouth at the pressure, and you use the opening to circle her tongue with your own, making her body arch up into you.
She runs her hands along your sides, her fingers groping the fat of your ass as you grind against her. The sensations are overwhelming, arousal pooling in her underwear as her desire for more continues to grow.
“God… Please…”
You pull back, sealing your thirst with a peck on her lips.
“You’re so good for me, Ellie. You want me somewhere else?”
When she looks up at you, her eyes are clouded with desire. She can’t find the words to express herself properly, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless, but she pushes through the fog,
“Y-yeah… I need you… more, fuck, please.”
It's blatant that your own arousal is overtaking your need to push her, so you lift her shirt up and place kisses along the soft, velvety skin of her chest, circling her pebbled nipples with your tongue. Ellie lets out a soft gasp at the warm and wet feeling, tingles erupting through her chest, and her body caves to feel the gentle pressure deepen before you get up from her lap and lift her thigh.
She watches you go with wide eyes, following you away by pushing herself up off the mattress in a subconscious attempt to remain close to you. You’re already looking back at her for permission before tugging off her sweatpants,
“You know something, Els?”
Her eyes are dark with desire and her response is hoarse.
“What… what is it?”
“I’m still really hungry.”
You push her leg up and place an anything-but- chaste kiss upon the fat of her inner thigh, watching her shudder and her eyes roll back ever so slightly in pleasure,
“Can you help me?”
Her breath hitches in her throat. She nods once, swallowing hard before replying.
“Yeah... Yeah, fuck. Just... Please,” she thrusts her hips up against you.
You run your fingers down her stomach, over the wispy auburn curls trailing down to her pussy and and over the damp fabric of her underwear, drunk off the sight of her flushed beneath you,
“Do you think you can handle that?”
Ellie's body tenses as she gasps out,
“Y-yeah, I can handle it… Fuck... You're making it really hard to think straight.”
You just smile as you drag her underwear down her legs agonizingly slowly before throwing it aside haphazardly. She watches you lower yourself in front of her pussy and it makes her throw her head back.
It's swollen and glistening, squelching quietly as she tenses above you in hungry pulses, and the exhale of a warm breath over it causes her to shiver. You chuckle.
Ellie bites her lip to muffle a moan, knowing how fucking pathetic it is that she finds it hot when you're mean, and that the breathy melody of your laugh only turned her on even more, when she didn't think that was possible.
“Please, baby…”
You run your tongue over your bottom lip and push your face in to kiss her protruding clit gently, feeling her convulse before you. She wants nothing more than for you to give her the release she craves but, before she knows it, you’re pulling away abruptly, and her throbbing pussy is left dripping again.
“Patience, okay?”
She strains out a scoff with the last shred of sanity left in her and mumbles,
“You're really testing my limits here,”
“What was that, sweetheart?”
Ellie meets your gaze with frustration, her body thrumming with need. Your teasing and the way you tower over her laying body are making her feel insane, making it difficult to get any words out. She swallows hard before replying, her voice slightly breathless.
“I said... You're testing my limits... Don’t tease me... Fuck, you’re such a dick,”
“I don’t think…”
You lean closer and run the tip of your tongue from her hole over her swollen pink clit, smearing her slick up crudely. Ellie squirms, her body taut with need.
“I don’t think I like your tone, baby, do you want me to stop? Is that what you want?”
Her eyes widen as she shifts into pleading,     
“No, no, don't stop. Please... I don't want you to stop. I'm just... Fuck... You're driving me crazy.
“I’m the one who gets to call the shots, okay, Els? I’m gonna need you to say sorry and then maybe I’ll consider giving you what you need.”
“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, just... I need you so bad. Please, baby, fuck…”
Ellie feels a surge of impatience, desperate for your touch and frustrated by your insistence on making her wait. She needs you, and she'll do anything to get you to give her what she wants, but what you want is to make her writhe. You kiss her forehead,
“Good girl,”
and then you crawl back to where you desperately need to be: between her legs, and push her thighs up to her chest before burying the lower half of your face into her core without warning, your tongue flexed erotically as you slurp the slick from her pussy like you're starving, flicking your tongue erratically and eagerly.
“Oh, fuck... Just like that... Please, don't stop...”
Ellie’s moans are sweet and debaucherous, with her hands scrambling for purchase, grasping at the wrinkled sheets beneath her when you thrust your tongue into her.
Your eyes never leave her face, watching the way she sinks further into the loss of control, mouth opening wider, eyes rolling back further. You slowly sink a finger, and then another, into her drooling hole with ease, feeling her pussy flutter around you.
The hold you have on her thighs is tightening mercilessly, but you're losing yourself too, untouched and squeezing your legs together to satiate your own ache.
Quickly, intoxicated by the depraved squelching sound filling the room and the suction of her walls taking in your digits, you plunge them deeper, in and out, in and out.
“Oh, oh god... Fuck, baby, please don't stop... Fuck, I'm cumming, I’m-”
Ellie arches her back, lifting off the mattress, her body tensing up as the pleasure builds to a peak within her, faster than you had anticipated. You keep your eyes trained on her, and they meet when she looks down on you, bottom lip red and raw, tugged between her teeth, eyebrows knitted in rapture.
She's completely captivated by you, her body trembling as she teeters on the edge of climax, but the sight of your half-lidded eyes gazing up at her knocks her over the edge with intensity.
She lets out a groan and then a cry of ecstasy, her body trembling beneath you as the intense waves of pleasure wash over her. You don't let up. She gasps for air, her hands rushing to your head to simultaneously push your face into her as she thrusts her hips against you, and pull you away by the hair as the pleasure becomes too much.
Her chest heaves for a moment before reaching a pinnacle in a soft sigh and, gradually, the room floods with silence. Ellie turns her head to gaze at you hazily, eyes honeyed with affection and exhaustion, and she grins toothily,
“That was... amazing... Holy fuck… You're amazing...”
Finally, you lift yourself up and hover over her.
Ellie wraps her arms around you, pulling you against her, and the tenderness of it all makes your chest fill with a tingling warmth reserved just for Ellie.
Her body still thrums with the aftershocks of pleasure,
Yeah... Yeah, that was... incredible."     
“You’re pretty cute when you get all flustered, Els.”               
Ellie blushes at your words; you hoped to draw that out of her, and she huffs slightly in feigned annoyance, though it’s completely half-hearted.
“Shut up.”
You chuckle, but it dies out quickly as she looks down at you longingly, elaborating,
“I... don't know if it's kinda late to say this now but... I love you... I mean, obviously, I do, but as... more than just a friend. I've known for a long time, I've just been too scared of ruining things to actually tell you-”
“Pussy-” Ironic.
“Shut up - you know, that is incredibly rich coming from- fuck, forget that, it's been... building for a while now, and, if you feel the same, I wanna take you out... Maybe, next Friday? Or whatever day works for you…”
She pauses before meeting your gaze, her eyes searching yours intently as she mumbles,
“Please say something. Preferably other than ‘pussy.’”
“I love you too, as more than just a friend... I would love to go out with you and thanks for letting me eat you out. That was pretty awesome."
She grins stupidly,
“You're welcome, it was pretty awesome for me too.”
Ellie smiles, the furious blush unfading on her cheeks as she studies your expression.
“You're enjoying this, aren't you, you little asshole.”                                                        
“Oh, absolutely.”                       
You place a gentle kiss on her freckled cheek and pull back to see the way she grins, but then her face drops.
“Fuck, I forgot to order the food.”
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awesumsaus · 8 months
pretty when I cry
wc: 6k
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.
a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)
warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry
It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window. 
He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning. 
Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.  
He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.
He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core. 
“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare. 
He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle. 
“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 
“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip. 
With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior. 
The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired. 
But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.
He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his. 
The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed. 
To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry. 
And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps. 
After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to. 
“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you. 
“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up. 
“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist. 
His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.” 
You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take. 
It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands. 
“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it. 
You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.
He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks. 
“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him. 
“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 
Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core. 
“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.  
“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs. 
“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see. 
“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away. 
“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold. 
“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”
“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response. 
“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity. 
“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face. 
“Good girl.”
His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. 
He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.
He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky. 
“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”
His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him. 
The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you. 
“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.  
Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him. 
He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated. 
“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“
He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”
He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”
“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing. 
You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily. 
“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”
“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”
“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours. 
“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”
You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.
His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own. 
“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again. 
Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission. 
You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure. 
“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you. 
“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.
He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole. 
“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you. 
“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment. 
He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way. 
It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes. 
His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide. 
“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”
“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.
It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you. 
Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. 
With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.
“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”
Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer. 
“Will you let me, pretty girl?”
You nod. 
“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought. 
Yes, please, yes.
He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds. 
You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take. 
When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.
“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name. 
“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”
You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare. 
His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”
“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge. 
“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled. 
“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”
“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried. 
“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”
“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain. 
“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel. 
You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness. 
When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear. 
Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of. 
“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. 
“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” 
You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet. 
He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity. 
“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin. 
When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates. 
You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.
It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away. 
Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room. 
He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.
He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording. 
Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object. 
“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil. 
“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.
He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“
“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later. 
“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.
He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you. 
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y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me
but hope we enjoyed the rest :p
part two
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gracieheartspedro · 2 months
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Your Needs, My Needs
I : Strawberry Wine
a masterlist of how you can help gaza
the prelude to this series
pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)
description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?
word count: 3.2k words
warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3
author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo
Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before. 
The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat. 
“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”
Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy? 
Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life. 
Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him. 
“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”
You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic. 
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”
“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”
You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you. 
“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”
He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.
You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”
He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face. 
“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”
So he’s single. You think to yourself. 
You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him. 
Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”
“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.” 
The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat. 
And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes. 
“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”
You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it. 
“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”
“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”
He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”
The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner. 
“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”
You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things. 
“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”
As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind. 
“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”
His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like. 
“Baked chicken and vegetables?”
He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”
You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you. 
You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”
You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date. 
You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable. 
You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed. 
When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be. 
Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”. 
What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands. 
“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”
You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. 
“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”
You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring. 
You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. 
“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness. 
He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”
You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”
“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”
You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel. 
“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”
He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”
You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking. 
You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable. 
You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting. 
Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently. 
After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner. 
“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies. 
“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.” 
The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full. 
“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”
He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”
“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”
He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”
“Are you going?”
“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”
“Does a check work?”
He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”
“What are neighbors for, Joel?”
He nods, “You mean friends.”
You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.
“Friends, huh?”
He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”
The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response. 
“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”
He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”
He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”
You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you. 
You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”
You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”
He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”
The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen. 
“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”
“What? You not good at letting loose?”
You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”
“Now, why do you say that?”
You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas. 
“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”
You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything. 
You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”
You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right. 
“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”
It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.
“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing. 
You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough. 
“Only ones that fix my toilets.”
And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass. 
He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong. 
“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”
He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft. 
“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”
He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”
You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up. 
You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment. 
“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment. 
“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”
You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight. 
“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”
He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."
taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)
@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm 
@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle
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astralnymphh · 2 months
Werewolf!Ellie? Her all primal n shit? OH MY GOD
I'd die.
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.⋆✮───she is FERAL, and she is PRIMAL, and she is HAIRY. that's random compared to the preceding terms, but it is TRUE. and i think she's the most horndoggiest hounding-your-backside type of girl. and has a breeding kink. but mostly, i want to yap about those sharp pearls of hers, and how she uses them. no bounds are found shackling her impulses— nor her capricious teeth. in the midst of getting down and dirty? bites. feral bites. from neck to ankle, the pits of her teeth have engraved your skin numerous times, in moments where her pleasure reined over every process of thought. she'd be humping her wetness into your bare thigh: lost in the sweat, biting and tugging lips over teeth, digging the fat of your thigh in the cleft of her nails, huffing, "fuck, s'good to me, so good.." when your own fingers softly trace the grooves and hairy trails of her body— and suddenly, her beady clit would drag against in such a delicious way, her fucked out demeanor would grow wayward. she lowers herself and immediately finds her teeth a home on your collarbone, sinking in as her pelvis continues bucking and eventually climaxing on your thigh. it draws blood, "ah— shhhit," tugging a hiss from your lips; her sound of reward. quiet growls brim your ears, until ellie unsheathes her bite and laps her tongue over the fresh wound. puckers her lips next, and presses them over the lunar shape of it, the corners of her mouth slightly stained in that crimson delight. so when her head perks to gage which face you're clading: satisfaction, or left in want, her strawberried smirk turns out to be wreathed in more red blotches. that satisfies you. "got your fill, baby?" you speak softer than a new-mooned night, plowing your digits through her hairline, and into her scalp. denial shakes beneath your palm. "mh-mn," hummed she, snaking the head of her tongue out to smear one of the blood stains drying her lips, "again?" looking so fucking eager with brows pinched and eyes carefully ashine. a newfound pressure slips between your thighs— fuck, she wants her fingers inside you. simultaneously.
trickery strums her a giggle as lips come to nudge at your shoulder; a request— or a promise, duly known as, "gonna bite you here, mhm?" but in reality, that won't be the last of her bites. no, not with ellie. rarely, an end is found with her bites.
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beforeimdeceased · 4 months
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ways to help, daily click, do not support neil
ellie williams x reader
a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think
tags: @astralnymphh
once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…
okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.
“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.
this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.
many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.
but you were special.
you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.
she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.
you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.
doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.
she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.
once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.
so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…
“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“
“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”
“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.
you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”
she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”
“very.” you respond, smiling.
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.
then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.
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azu-mog · 21 days
Me finishing tlou 2 again, then me smashing together ff7 and tlou because why not !
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Zack is 24 (4 in the beginning of the outbreak) and cloud is 19 (born one year after the outbreak)
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trackinglessons · 4 months
hi (tries to casually drop this wip even though im literally shaking im so excited)
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quotidianish · 3 months
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I would like to preface this post by saying I am fully aware of how incredibly stupid this is
First post
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cowgurrrl · 7 months
Something in the Orange
Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader
Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk
Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]
Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???
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You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy. 
Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period. 
Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.
A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"
"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.
"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.
"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."
"With who?"
"None of your business." 
"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.
"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"
"Mr. Flynn's."
"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"
"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.
"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look. 
"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room. 
"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.
"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"
"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box. 
"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.
"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod. 
"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day." 
"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.
"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class." 
"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is." 
"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.
"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"
"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."
"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?" 
"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile. 
"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.
"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say. 
"You said that already." 
"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."
"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that." 
"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers." 
"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers." 
"Well, I find that hard to believe." 
"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?" 
"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh. 
"How long has it been doin' that?" 
"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."
"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."
"Really?" You ask, and he nods. 
"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."
"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"
"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.
"Only if you really mean it." 
"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"
"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip. 
"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.
"Yes, thank you."
"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you." 
"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out. 
What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy. 
When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece. 
"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.
"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment. 
"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand. 
"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"
"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.
"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."
"You didn't like school?"
"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated." 
"That was me in college." 
"Now, I don't believe that for a second." 
"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.
"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher." 
"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox. 
"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong. 
"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.
"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him. 
"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.
Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run." 
"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something." 
"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."
"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip. 
Thanks again. See you Friday. -J
You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts. 
The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event. 
By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her. 
"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself. 
"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh. 
"All good things, I hope."
"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too." 
"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.
"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise." 
"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl." 
"Well, thank you. I owe you." 
"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector." 
"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.
"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."
"Mr. Miller-"
"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.
"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"
"You think I'm handsome?"
"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around." 
"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."
"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."
"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.
"Goodnight, Joel."
"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake. 
So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to. 
After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line. 
Simply, "When can I start -E." 
TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha
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perotovar · 4 months
baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 2) "session two"
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gif by me
pairing: javier peña/joel miller rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 4.3k content: use of a plug, throat fucking, ass eating, lots of spit, gratuitous descriptions of cum, unprotected p in a, creampie, (safe) breathplay, background handjob, cock slapping, one (1) spank, joel's porn persona is a tad mean but it's nothing crazy, shy!joel, javi is a HUGE flirt, smoking, lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics betas: @qveerthe0ry & @scenaaario (ily angels ♥)
series summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~
series masterlist | shoutout to this spanish dirty talk reference
for notifications, follow @oakslibrary ♥
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Javier hadn’t had to prepare in a while. At least a few months. And the fact that he was doing this for Joel, of all men? He was harder than a fucking rock and he hadn’t even gotten the plug all the way in yet. Granted, he’d purposely chosen a smaller plug so he could still feel the stretch when Joel pushed that thick–
“Mierda,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder to see if he could get a better angle. The plug he chose was small, black, and a little thinner than he would normally go for. It’s been a while, so no matter what, there was a stretch but the lube certainly helped. When his hole finally sucked it in lewdly, he moaned, arching his back like a cat presenting himself to a mate. He grinned to himself and rested his head on his folded arms, ass in the open air of his apartment. 
He wished that his first major scene with Joel wasn’t a scene. He wanted to see if Joel was any different when the cameras weren’t on and he could just be himself. Every time he’s ever talked to Joel, he’d been quiet, with a heavy brow. Javier had been around the block once or twice and he could tell when someone didn’t like him. He’s not sure what he did to get on Joel’s bad side, but he hoped that tension added to the scene instead of making things awkward. And part of him liked the rift. It made Joel way more attractive to him, because Joel was probably the closest the site had to a bear, but not as big. Javier had always wanted to be fucked by one– 
Bzz. Bzz.
Cracking open an eye, Javier looked as his phone lit up next to him. He sighed and started rolling his hips side to side, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled up again.
R u ready ?
“Who still texts like this, Jesus Christ,” he grumbled to himself. A slow trickle of sweat fell down the length of his back as he started typing a response.
Be there shortly, boss.
Javier rolled his eyes to himself. Max was always on his ass about being on time, but it never bothered him. They couldn’t start the shoot without him anyway. His cock throbbed between his legs, making him curl his fingers around his shaft. 
One quick wank couldn’t hurt right? 
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Joel was panicking, to put it mildly. He showed up to the shoot way too fucking early and now he was rocking a semi in the hallway outside the room they’d be using. They, meaning him and Javier, because of course he hadn’t fully processed that that was still happening. He couldn’t get the image of Javier’s mouth around his cock, that mustache framing it so perfectly. Or his hole being stretched by Joel’s cock, or even–
“Hey, big guy.”
The words sounded like they were coming from down the hall and directly in his ear simultaneously. He slowly looked up to find Javier smirking down at him. Joel swallowed around a lump in his throat and cleared his throat awkwardly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. Javier looked really fucking good – when didn’t he – with a healthy glow and slightly tousled hair. Had he freshly cleaned up his mustache this morning?
“Joel?” Javier chuckled, a soft smile coloring his features.
Joel cleared his throat again and stood awkwardly. “S-sorry, uh, hey,” he mumbled, looking down at his boots before keeping his eyes off of Javier’s, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where ya been?” 
It was meant to be casual conversation, he swears, but he’d lowered his voice and it came out all gruff and accusatory and now he wants to hide in the broom closet. He knows this because the easy, relaxed look on Javier’s changed to one of confusion.
“Uh, preparing. Sorry, I know I was a little later than usual,” Javier exhaled. Guess he was right; Joel wasn’t the biggest fan of his. That’s fine, he was a professional and he could get his job done and go home. “See you in there, hombre.”
Joel blinked a couple times, looking at the empty area of the hallway where Javier was just standing. “W-wait,” he grunted, looking toward the room. Javier was digging into the pocket of the robe he was wearing and lighting up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the face of the assistant he was talking to.
“Fuckin’ idiot,” Joel grumbled to himself and stepped inside.
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Javier wasn’t opposed to an audience per se, but he wasn’t expecting one today either. “What are you cabrones doing here?” He smirked, looking at the faces of his coworkers. Not all of them were here, but Dieter, Shane, Dave, Marcus, Din, Steve, Cobb, and Jack were. Everyone was in various positions of comfort, some sitting and some standing or leaning. Except Dieter, who was sitting on Din’s lap comfortably, resting his head on the bulkier man’s shoulder. 
“Wanted to see the show, of course,” Dieter grinned, winking at him. Joel stepped onto the set and saw all the men. He gave Dieter a look, and Dieter responded with a softer smile as if to say, You got this.
Javier rolled his eyes and smiled. “Alright, whatever, you perverts.”
“Alright, people, let’s get this show on the road! We’ve got a longer one ahead of us and I’ve got a date tonight.”
Everyone froze and looked at Max like he grew a third eye. 
Max frowned. “It’s not that rare– Y’know what, fuck you guys. Joel, Javi, get into position,” he grumbled, sitting in his director’s seat.
Javier looked at Joel and snorted, untying his robe. He threw it to their audience like they were a bunch of fans, and laughed when Marcus caught it. Javier winked at him, making the slightly younger man’s cheeks flush.
Joel was doing his damndest not to bust a fucking nut right now because obviously Javier was naked. That was his fucking job. That was his fucking job, too.
“Joel,” Dieter whispered. Joel looked at him, a slightly panicked look on his face. Dieter motioned for Joel to come over to him, so the older man did. “What’s goin’ on, huh?” Dieter asked quietly. Joel looked at Din wearily, who just smiled politely. “Oh, he’s not gonna say anything,” Dieter smiled, leaning over to give Din a quick kiss.
“‘M just,” Joel sighed. “Think he thinks I don’ like him.”
“Why would he think that?” Dieter pouted. When Joel didn’t answer right away, Dieter furrowed his brows at him. “Did you do that grumbly thing you always do?”
Joel mumbled under his breath and looked down at his boots.
“Miller! Get in frame,” Max barked.
Joel sighed and ruffled Dieter’s hair a little. “Showtime.”
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Javier felt like his throat was on fire, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was having a hard time breathing. Joel’s cock felt so thick and hard inside his mouth and he was more turned on than he’d been in a long fucking time. 
“Yeah, shut ya up real good, huh?”
Javier moaned weakly, big brown eyes glassy as they looked up at Joel’s hard face. He choked every time the head of Joel’s cock hit the back of his throat but he couldn’t give a damn. This was probably the messiest head he’d ever given someone, slobber pouring out the sides of his mouth and down Joel’s shaft. 
Joel’s lines had instructed him to tell Javier to keep his hands to himself, so of course he obeyed. He dug the blunt nails of his fingers into his bare thighs so hard he was afraid that he’d break skin.
“Ain’t such a brat now that y’got a cock in your mouth, huh?” Joel sneered, tugging on Javier’s thick locks. Joel’s eyes were glued to Javier’s plump, swollen lips wrapped so tightly around his cock, that perfectly trimmed mustache framing them so beautifully. A full body shiver zipped down his spine when he saw the glossed over look in Javier’s eyes and tear tracks staining his cheeks. He shut his eyes in bliss and exhaled heavily as his hips moved of their own accord, his heavy balls slapping Javier’s chin lewdly.
Javier let out a low noise, his brows furrowing slightly. Joel looked down, worried he’d pushed too far, but saw that Javier was looking up at him with this fucking look in his eye. Even if Joel was technically in charge, at least in the script, he knew Javier had him hook, line, and sinker right now. And he thinks Javier knows that, too. 
Joel’s hips bucked at the twinkle in Javier’s eye, making Javier choke loudly. Slowly, Joel removed his cock from Javier’s swollen mouth. Loud, wet coughs left Javier’s lips, but he looked at Joel with a smirk on his face.
“Thought you were gonna fuck me, old man,” Javier rasped, sweat dripping down his neck.
“But you’d like that, wouldn’ya?” Joel grumbled. His cock throbbed heavily between thick, muscled thighs and Javier couldn’t take his eyes off it. The twitching made his own cock weep at the sight. “S’what I thought,” Joel hummed, harshly gripping Javier’s hair again. He curled thick fingers around the base of his cock and lewdly slapped the head against Javier’s tear-stricken face. 
Javier’s entire body shivered at the demeaning act and he bit his lip, looking at the hard lines in Joel’s face, and at the gray streaks in Joel’s hair. He was easily one of the most menacingly beautiful men he’d ever seen. He kissed and licked and sucked down the shaft of Joel’s cock until he sucked one of his heavy balls into his mouth. He moaned happily around the sensitive skin and looked back up at Joel through his lashes.
“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, breaking character slightly. He couldn’t fucking help it. Not when Javier was looking at him like that.
Javier made an approving sound and lewdly popped the ball out of his mouth, kissing up Joel’s soft, hairy stomach. “That’s my line,” he improvised with a grin, and sucked a dark mark into Joel’s hip.
Joel almost smiled, but at the last moment, remembered they were in fact not alone and had a script to follow. He quickly hardened his eyes and gripped Javier’s arms and manhandled him until Javier was laying over the arm of the couch, cock trapped between his body and the scratchy fabric.
“That what y’want, huh?” Joel grunted, gripping Javier’s ass in a bear paw. “Want me t’fuck this little ass until ya can’t walk no more?”
Javier moaned and arched his back, pushing his ass further into Joel’s hand and tried to grind against his cock. He nodded as much as he could with Joel pulling on his hair like he was, throat bared and panting hard. Joel pressed on Javier’s sweaty back to keep him down, before using both hands to slowly spread his cheeks. He groaned at the puckered little hole, carefully covered in lube from his earlier preparation. Pressing there with the pad of his thumb, he smirked when Javier moaned weakly below him.
“P-please, Joel,” Javier breathed heavily. Javi didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. He’d been built up too much and poked and prodded enough that he just needed something inside him already. “Please.”
“Hmm,” Joel hummed, pretending like he was thinking about it. He removed his hands from Javier to finally remove the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. He could’ve sworn he heard someone from their little audience groan as his naked body was revealed, but he chose to ignore it, far too focused on the sight in front of him. “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly, his tone fake-sweet, and collected saliva in the back of his throat. He got down to his knees, thankful that the pillow there would be out of frame in the finished product. He spit directly onto Javi’s hole and gripped the small, plump cheeks in both hands. 
Javier gasped weakly, legs trembling under Joel’s ministrations. Joel was going to fucking kill him.
“Not yet, at least,” Joel mumbled, biting one of Javier’s cheeks before licking a thick stripe up from Javier’s taint to the top of his hole. A breathless huff left Javier’s lungs and his eyes rolled back at the feeling. “Y’mouth makes such pretty noises when ya ain’t runnin’ it,” was all the warning Javier had before Joel’s tongue pierced his hole and started fucking him in earnest.
Joel’s tongue was thick and wet and messy and he sucked loudly and slurped at a volume that should’ve been uncomfortable, but all Javier could do was moan and whimper, completely at Joel’s mercy. His eyebrows were downturned and his lips were parted in an obscene O, arms shaking as he held himself up on the couch. “Mm, fuck, J-Joel, I’m gonna fucking come, I’m–!” He was babbling and trembling and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He barely heard anything over the roaring in his ears.
“No, you’re not,” Joel grumbled between the lewd feast he was enjoying, landing a harsh smack! against one of Javier’s cheeks. “Don’t come until I say ya do.”
Javier groaned and bit his lip, his trapped cock weeping and throbbing between his legs. “Mierda,” he panted, hanging his head low between his shoulders. He tried grinding against the scratchy fabric of the couch for some kind of friction, but to no avail.
Joel grunted into Javier’s ass, convinced that he could stay here for hours if he was allowed. When he pulled his face away, his eyes latched onto the fluttering little hole in front of him and hummed in satisfaction. As he stood, his knees whined and creaked in protest and hopefully, if Max were nice to him for once, he’d edit the sounds out. 
Broad hands traveled up Javier’s heated skin, taking him all in as he panted heavily underneath the older man. He knew today would be good but nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Maybe he should keep his distance from Joel more often, if this was the end result.
Joel was ecstatic on the inside, the memories of their first scene together coming back to him. He’d almost forgotten just how pliant and cat-like Javier could get if pushed enough. The sounds he made were like music to Joel’s ears, and he wished he could keep them in a bottle reserved just for himself. 
He gripped Javier’s sides and manhandled him again until Javier was on his knees on one of the cushions and facing the back of the couch, hands planted on the back. Joel spread Javier’s cheeks again and hummed at the way the younger man clenched on instinct. He left Javier in that position for a second while he went over to an assistant off camera and grabbed some lube, making quick work of getting his cock thoroughly coated. He held Javier’s side, right where his ribs were, with one hand and gripped his cock with the other, grinding his shaft between Javier’s cheeks. 
Javier cried out loud, electricity shooting through his body and settling as heat at the base of his spine. 
Joel grinned, tapping the head of his cock against Javier’s hole before slowly, agonizingly so, pushed the thick head inside him. The air left Javier’s lungs as he froze, the pressure and the weight of being so thoroughly stretched overwhelming him. He grunted as Joel’s hips sat flush against his ass, breathing heavily as his arms trembled against the back of the couch. Joel stroked Javier’s flanks, letting him adjust for only a moment before he pulled out until just the head was left inside and slammed back inside.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck...” Javier moaned, his back arching.
“Aww, you’re alright,” Joel smirked. He hovered over Javier’s body, nearly covering him entirely with how much bulk there was. He curled an arm over Javier’s right shoulder and gripped onto the younger man’s left pec to press Javier’s back into his chest. He kissed along Javier’s shoulder and up his neck until he nibbled on Javi’s earlobe, moaning lowly as the younger man clenched around his shaft. “Y’gonna be good? Gonna let me fuck ya?”
“Sí, coño– Please, Joel,” Javier whined, resting his head on Joel’s shoulder and panting into the open air. “Por favor damelo.”
So Joel did. Before either of them knew it, Joel was fucking into Javier in earnest, his hips slapping against Javier’s ass obscenely. Javier was making the neediest little sounds, chanting Joel’s name like a prayer. Javier’s cock was hard as a rock and lewdly slapping against his skin with every one of Joel’s harsh thrusts.
Joel hid his face in Javier’s neck, panting hotly against the younger man’s already damp skin. With his right arm already wrapped around Javier’s torso, he gripped at Javier’s hip with his left hand, fingers digging into the (surprisingly) soft skin. Javier didn’t have a whole lot of fat on his body, but there was enough to ripple every time Joel jackhammered into him.
“F-fuck,” he gulped, lips parted and eyes half lidded. The pressure was building low in his abdomen. He knew he was close. “J-Joel, I’m–” His mouth was as dry as the desert. “I’m gonna come, I–”
Joel growled. Literally. He bit Javier’s cheek and growled. “Not yet. Jus’ a li’l longer,” he panted. He moved his hand from Javier’s pec to his throat, and carefully, expertly, squeezed the sides. They’d talked about doing this with Max and both had consented to it. They knew how to do it right.
Slowly, as Javier’s air supply was marginally cut off, a wide smile grew on his face. His eyes shut and he was smiling, biting his lip. He felt so fucking good. He wanted to do this again and this time wasn’t even over yet.
Joel must have noticed because he chuckled next to Javier’s ear, hips never letting up once. “Yeah? Feel good, sweetheart?”
Javier nodded as much as he could, nails digging into the shitty couch and pulling hard.
“Good boy,” Joel rumbled, slowing down his hips, but not letting up on how hard he was thrusting. Javier’s breath hitched with every one of Joel’s slow, measured thrusts. Joel’s hand slid from Javier’s hip down to curl around the younger man’s cock. It was like someone had poured ice cold water over Javier’s head, because the pressure was just what he’d needed.
“S-sí, sí, please, p-please,” Javier gasped, a tear falling from his eye.
“Fuck, look at ya,” Joel marveled, slowly stroking Javier’s cock teasingly. “Pretty as a god damn picture, sweetheart.”
Javier opened his eyes as wide as he could and tried looking at Joel for the first time since he was on his knees. When their eyes locked, Javier could have sworn that there was a different man behind Joel’s baby browns. Perhaps that was the real Joel, and not whoever was on camera. Not whoever had been avoiding him for the better part of two years. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?
“Want ya t’come for me,” Joel breathed hotly against his face. Javier shivered all over and nodded as much as he could with Joel’s bear paw of a hand around his throat. “Can ya do that, sweetheart? Come for me.”
Javier grunted as Joel picked up the pace of his hips again, but this time with his other hand tightly gripped around his shaft. Joel teased the head with his thumb just as he slammed directly into Javier’s prostate over and over.
Javier cried weakly, one more tear falling from his eye, and came hard. Thick, creamy spurts of cum painted the set’s couch as Javier trembled with his release.
Joel held him close, their sweaty bodies sticking together as Joel thrust one, two, three more times and followed Javier over the edge. He came with a low roar buried into Javier’s neck and cock twitching violently in Javier’s ass.
The set was dead silent save for Joel and Javier’s heavy breathing. Max kept the camera rolling, stunned into silence for once. 
Javier smiled to himself, eyes shut in bliss, and head resting on Joel’s shoulder. He clenched around Joel’s sensitive cock in little pulses. “Fuck me,” he croaked, voice wrecked.
Joel grunted at the overstimulation and gently held Javier’s hips as he slowly pulled out. Javier leaned forward against the back of the couch and pushed his ass out so the camera (and their audience) could see the thick cum trailing down his thighs. Joel’s hands rubbed Javier’s skin appreciatively at the sight, his cock giving one last valiant twitch.
“C-cut,” Max’s voice cracked, making him clear his throat. “Cut.”
In the corner, Dieter trembled and moaned weakly into Din’s neck as he came, Din’s thick fingers curled around his cock. 
Javier turned his head back to look at Joel with a satisfied smile on his face. “Mind gettin’ me a towel, guapo?”
Joel’s cheeks flushed, completely out of character again. “‘Course,” he mumbled, slowly standing to ask one of the assistants for a towel.
“Jesus Christ, boys,” Max chuckled.
Javier hummed in agreement.
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“That was… That was somethin’ else, Jav,'' Steve said, impressed.
They were both outside, having their usual post-shoot cigarette together. No matter if they’d done a scene together or separately, they always kept up the tradition. This time, though, Javier thought he’d need several cigarettes. And a bath.
“Thank you,” Javier grinned, feeling lighter and more satisfied than he had in weeks. He could swear that the crick in his neck he’d woken up with was completely gone. Maybe there was some truth to Silva’s back pain disappearing after certain sessions.
“S’pose ya don’t gotta tell me, since I saw it myself, but was it like you thought it’d be?” Steve chuckled.
Javier snorted in response, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “And then some.”
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Din smiled gently down at Dieter, giving him a slow, soft kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?” 
Dieter smiled wide and nodded giddily, getting on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Din’s neck one more time to give him another kiss. Joel could swear he saw hearts in his eyes. 
Once Dieter came back over to Joel, he had a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, just had to say goodbye.”
Joel smiled softly. “Don’ worry yourself over it. Y’all are cute together.”
“You think?” Dieter beamed. “We had a scene the other day and we just haven’t stopped texting, and– Oh my god, this isn’t about me right now, I’m sorry.”
Joel chuckled and followed Dieter into the hallway so the cleaning crew could get to work. Dieter scratched at his beard as he looked at Joel: he seemed lighter, with a healthy glow radiating off of him.
Joel cleared his throat and dug his hands into his pockets, shrugging a little. “What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me, old man! That was fucking hot! I came so hard!”
Joel laughed, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Thank you.”
“So? You gonna ask him out? Or at least apologize for earlier?”
“Yeah, I will. And uh… Yeah, I plan to,” Joel sighed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t exactly know how I’m gonna do that, though…”
“Well, you better think of something quick!” Dieter whispered, pointing towards the end of the hall as Javier rounded the corner with Steve.
“Shit,” Joel whispered to himself. Dieter gave him a wink and thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction. 
Javier had his regular clothes on again, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off him, enamored with how well they fit him. He may have just been inside the man, but he couldn’t help himself. 
“Hey, Joel,” Javier smiled awkwardly. He still wasn’t sure where they stood outside of working together, so he tried to keep it as casual as possible.
“H-hey, Javier,” Joel said hoarsely. He cleared his throat again.
“Y’know, you’re the only one that doesn’t call me Javi,” he said softly.
“Oh,” Joel furrowed his brow. “‘M sorry. My mama always taught me an’ my baby brother it was more polite that way.”
“You have a baby brother?” Javier smiled.
“Uh…” Joel gulped. “Y-yeah. Tommy.”
Javier hummed in response, an amused look crossing his features. He’s slowly figuring Joel out, he thinks. “He just as handsome as you? Bet he is,” he flirted.
The tips of Joel’s ears went pink and he laughed around an awkward cough. “Nah. Don’ cut his hair enough to be respectable.”
“Mm, more to pull then,” Javier smirked.
Joel made a face, not wanting to think of his brother like that. “L-listen, uh. ’m sorry ‘bout earlier. Wasn’t right talkin’ to ya like that,” he mumbled, unable to look Javier in the eye just yet.
Every bit of tension Javier felt left his body in an instant. “Thank you. I appreciate that, Joel.”
Joel nodded, a shy smile on his face. “‘S good,” he said awkwardly.
They were quiet for a few moments before Javier pulled out his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips. “Well, you built up quite the appetite in me, so I’m gonna go–”
“Do you wanna go out sometime?” Joel blurted out. “N-now, maybe?”
Javier blinked a few times as a smile grew on his lips. “You’re asking me out? Gotta be honest, I thought you hated me, Joel.”
Joel snapped his eyes up at that, confusion all over his face. “What? No! I–” He sighed. “‘M no good at this,” he grumbled to himself. “’m sorry. Again.”
Javier chuckled and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “‘s alright. I’d love to.”
“Yeah?” Joel smiled, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. 
“Yeah, guapo. You already got dessert, but dinner sounds great.”
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ghostfanwriter · 1 year
🩷 If we ever broke up, I'd call your dad 🩷
🩷 Pairing: Boyfriend's dad! Joel Miller x Reader
🩷 Setting: No outbreak au.
🩷 Synopsis: After his son cheats on you, Joel shows you that there's one Miller man worth of your time.
🩷 Features: 🔞 Straight to the point porn, degradation with praise, unprotected p in v, cheating (Joel's son cheats reader), oral sex (m receiving), cum play (eating and exhibiting), big age gap (20's/50's)
🩷 Word count: 1.5k
🩷 Author's note: This one came to when then listening to 'If we ever broke up." The 'I'd call your dad' line just seemed to have so much potential, it made me want to write something for it. So my first smaller fic was born. Also, the bikinis I own are small ones, so picture her ass barely covered in this one. Hope you like it 🩷
Good reading 🩷✨
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Sadness was gone, now all you felt for him was disdain.
And it was that exactly same feeling that made you wear your nicest bikini — a baby pink one that darkens when wet — to his family barbecue instead of breaking up and telling him you already knew everything he did.
It was disdain that made you share a beer with his dad.
Oh, his dad. You knew you had made the wrong choice when you met him.
His broad shoulders, his warm smile and personality, his greying beard and hair, strong arms and soft dark eyes. You almost moaned when you first saw him, almost moaned when he pulled you into a hug, feeling his warmth on your chest.
He was the only reason you still hadn't broken up with his son — and you had several reasons to contrapoint him. You weren't ready to leave him, to not see or talk to him ever again.
It was disdain that made you flirt with his dad, sitting by his side by the pool, touching his legs while you talked to him. Tell him what his son did to you, show him the picture of the girl he did it with.
It was anger that made his dad want to go after him, to teach him how to respect a woman. You don't know what made you hold him back.
But it was disdain that made him lean into you, touching your thigh and giving you a reassuring smile.
“I just don't know how he thought he could ever find someone better, funnier, prettier than you, angel.”
It was disdain that made you lick your lips, looking at his, smiling to him and falling back into the pool.
Disdain made you keep looking at him, for him, the rest of the barbecue.
Desire made his dad not take his eyes off you, watching how your bikini would dry back to its baby pink before darkening again when you got back on the pool.
It was desire that made you stare at his dad until he looked back, finding a smile on your face as you turned your head towards the house. Calling him in.
It was desire that made his dad follow you inside his house, inside his bathroom, locking the door behind him, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck and your collarbones, squeezing your sides, biting your jaw and grabbing your ass.
Making you melt into his arms, your baby pink bikini darkening right in between your legs, showing him how much you craved this very moment.
“He's just a boy, you need a real man to show you how you should be treated, to take care of you like you deserve. To fuck you like you need to be.” He said in your ear as you palmed him through his shorts, undoing their cords and shoving your hand into them, moaning at how big — much, much bigger than his son —, how thick, how heavy and how hard he was.
“He was so gentle, Mr. Miller. He was so soft.” You whimpered on his neck, running your free hand through his hair, his hands squeezing your whole body.
“And you don't want it soft, do you, baby? You think you can do it for me? Take it like a woman? Huh? Give a grown man what he needs from you?” He asked right before rolling his tongue around your clothed nipple and biting on it over your bikini, staining its baby pink with his saliva, earning a moan from you.
“Was hoping you'd teach me how, Mr. Miller.”
"Don't call me that, angel." He says with a groan, thrusting into your hand.
He turned you around, freeing his cock, pushing your tiny bikini to the side and bending you over the sink. He slid his cock between your folds, groaning at how wet and soft you felt.
"Goddammit baby, so ready for me already."
"Wanted you for a long time, Joel." You moan, moving your hips, grinding yourself onto his cock and his body. He smiles at how you obeyed him, not calling him Mr. Miller anymore.
“A stupid young boy cheats on you and the first thing you do is fuck his daddy, huh, baby? Such a good fucking slut...” He pants on your ears, and you hate how it makes you moan, you hate how you can feel yourself wetting his cock even more with what he calls you.
But his touch is so strong, so firm, so soft at the same time. His voice so soothing and breathy. His degradation always followed by a praise that makes you need him even more.
"...My favorite type of girl, know you're gonna be so good for me." He completes, thrusting forward, his cock sliding through your folds, his tip tickling your clit, making you moan.
"I will, daddy. Need you inside me, please." You plead, and he squeezes your hips, right where your thighs connect to them, groaning on your ear.
“Good girl, so desperate for my cock. You beg so nice, pretty.” That's what he wanted you to call him all along.
He guided his tip to your entrance, grunting at how you clenched around it as soon at it went inside, at how easily your arousal made it for him to bottom out inside you, despite how tight you were.
It was lust that made you bounce your hips back on him, rolling them and moaning, biting his palm when he covered your mouth.
“Know you want to make him jealous, baby. But we can't let anyone hear us and end our fun, can we?”
It was disdain that made his dad fuck you. Not just have sex with you, a much younger, pretty girl. But fuck you.
Relentless, hard, deep, fast, rough. Squeezing your hips and your breasts, grunting and groaning in your ears, praising you for being so bad.
"Fucking your father-in-law while your boyfriend's outside. So fucking bad, baby."
"If I only knew you were such a good girl. I would've had so much more fun with you."
“How many times I came by myself, thinking about this pretty body of yours. Could've used your help all along.”
He kept going, the sounds of your bonding-time just not alerting anyone because of his shorts muffling his thrusts and his hand muffling your moans.
"C'mon, cum for me, baby. Gonna look so pretty with your eyes rolling back for me." He said, staring at your reflection on the mirror. Your brows furrowed, hair all messy, his large hand covering the whole bottom of your face. His dark and hooded eyes, his low eyebrows, a fucking gorgeous smile on his face. “Play with yourself, c'mon. Have you ever done it for me before?”
You nod desperately, you had. So many times. Sometimes when you were with his son. Wishing it was him, to treat you like you wanted, like you needed to be handled.
“I did, daddy. So many times.” You tried to say, his hand muffling most of your words, but he still got it.
“Show me how you did it, princess. Touch yourself for me, squeeze daddy's cum out of him."
You roll your fingers passionately around your clit, his punishing pace making it easy for you to cum around him, gushing on his cock and clenching around him, forcing him to fuck you even harder, forging room for himself inside you.
"Fuck, baby. So pretty cumming all over me, so bad. Cumming so hard for your boyfriend's daddy, making me feel so good. Gonna cum for you too, baby."
“In my mouth, daddy. Please.”
"Mouth? How are you gonna talk to people when we're done? Just gonna let them smell my cum on your mouth, baby? Huh, is that what you want? For everyone to know how good you were for me?"
You nod, furrowing your brows. He watches your face on the mirror, letting go of your mouth, pulling out and turning you back around.
You can feel yourself leaking down your thighs.
"So fucking good, baby." He says before kissing you, hungry and passionate, before interlacing his fingers on your hair and pulling you down.
You grab him and suck him passionately, twisting your wrists, rolling your tongue around his tip and cupping his balls. He thrusts into your mouth a few times, grunting and looking into your eyes, pulling away before pumping himself, deep and fast.
“Now open wide for daddy, c'mon.”
You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.
"Good, so pretty like this." He praises.
He cums in long and thick streams, filling your mouth, making you smile and moan at his taste, his warmth.
You move his cum inside your mouth, letting it coat every little corner of it before opening your mouth again, showing it to him.
"Greedy girl, not one drop to waste. Swallow, baby." He pants, and you do, looking into his eyes and swallowing, smiling when you're done, showing him your empty mouth. "Did you like it?" He asked, caressing your hair.
"I loved it, daddy." You answer, licking the drop of cum falling from his tip.
"And am I gonna have to teach you some manners too?"
"Sorry daddy, thank you. I loved it."
"Good, such a good girl for me."
He lifts you up, kissing you.
"Can't leave the bathroom with this stinky mouth, can you? Can't let anyone know how much fun we just had together." He said, putting some toothpaste on his index finger. "Open up, show me your teeth."
You do as you're told. He brushes your teeth with his finger, cleaning your whole mouth, even your tongue, before telling you to rinse.
"My son is one stupid motherfucker, baby. I'll take care of you from now on. Make sure you're getting everything you deserve. Making sure you never let any boy come close to you ever again."
If you only knew that getting cheated on was the best thing that could happen to you...
Hope you liked it. Dirty and short, new for me, but super fun to try.
Hope to see you around, have a nice one, besties 🩷
Ghost Fan Writer's Masterlist 💖
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