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gutsby · 4 months

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Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK #THIS IS DISGUSTING #I AM DISGUSTING #DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH #brain rot ❤️#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

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jobean12-blog · 1 month

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Where You Belong

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (pre or no!outbreak Joel-Friends to Lovers)

Word Count: 2,743

Summary: You and Joel have been friends for a long time and the tension has been building. It's hard to ignore and when he comes to your rescue it's all the push you need.

Author's Note: Just a little something because I love protective boys and love friends to lovers and Joel. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: sweet and fun fluff, some light tension, slightly sketchy boss no one likes, soft and protective Joel, kisses, friends to lovers

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You turn to Joel who’s splayed out on your couch, his arm tucked under his head and his tee shirt riding up just high enough that you can see a sliver of skin.

After staring for a beat too long you shake your head no and he sticks his bottom lip out while making a disgruntled sound.

“I mean you can, I want you to,” you back track, “but it’s a work thing and you’ll probably be bored.”

“Is your new boss goin’ to be there?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, he’s the one who organized it. Claims he wants us to get to know him better.”

You roll your eyes before turning away and searching for the mugs in the cabinet above the stove. Spotting the ones you want you reach up, straining and standing on your tippy toes.

“I don’t like that guy,” Joel grumbles.

“You met him once…for like a minute,” you counter.

“That was enough for me to know,” he says.

“Ugh!” you mutter when you still can’t grasp the mugs.

Suddenly, you feel his warm body press against your back as his arm rises above your head and easily grabs one mug then the other.

“These?” he asks with a boyish smirk.

“Yeah,” you sigh and take them from his hands. “Thanks. What would I do without you?”

You turn and face him, still trapped against the stove when he smiles and says, “I have no idea.”

Pressing a palm to his chest you shove him away and head for the coffee maker. You don’t even ask if he wants a cup, knowing already that he definitely does and just how he likes it.

An hour later when the coffee’s all gone and you’re too comfortable to want to leave you check your phone anyway and sigh.

“Guess it’s time to go,” you say but instead stretch out along the couch and stuff your feet under Joel’s arm.

“You look ready to go,” he chuckles.

Your eyes close but you can’t hide your smile and when he starts tickling your feet you instantly come alive and start kicking at him.

“FINE! I’m going. If you wanted to get rid of me that badly you could have just said so,” you tease.

“I’m at your house babe,” he replies and does nothing to hide his grin.

“Oh. Yeah. Well…” and your words trail off as you stomp into your bedroom to change.

When you emerge from your room, dressed and ready, you’re looking through your bag for your phone and you don’t notice Joel resting along the wall.

“Wow,” he says, louder than intended.

You startle and look up.

“What?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

He clears his throat and waves his hand dismissively before grabbing his keys.

“Maybe I should come with you,” he says, more to himself than you as he tries to keep his eyes glued to your face and not traveling down the rest of your body.

“You’ll hate every minute of it” you tease.

Before you reach your door he’s there and holding it open for you and when you walk toward your car he follows, opening the driver’s side door when you click the lock.

“Ok, well, have fun,” he says.

“Thanks. I’ll try.”

“Call if you need me.”

“I will,” you say quietly.

He presses his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up until you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“Promise?” he whispers.

“I promise,” you tell him.

His gaze softens and wanders over your face, then he presses a delicate kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You plop down into the seat of the car and wait for him to shut the door. He backs away and watches you pull out of the driveway before heading to his pick-up truck.

“So where is everyone else?” you ask as you sit at the bar and sip your drink.

“Not here yet I guess,” your boss shrugs.

You shift and let your eyes sweep the bar space, silently willing someone else from work to walk in. Your new boss was hired about six months ago. He’s not much older than you and at first seemed nice enough but the more time you’ve spent in his presence the more you notice his lingering glances and unwanted touches.

Thankfully, it’s never gone far enough where you’ve had a problem but you’ve spoken to Joel about it and of course he wants to kick his ass.

Your boss, Scott, leans in closer. Too close and you try to remain unbothered, pulling back only slightly and holding your smile.

“So, tell me more about yourself. I know you’ve been at the company for over a year but since I’ve only been here half that time I’d like to get to know you better,” he croons.

“Umm,” you start as an uncomfortable feeling creeps along the back of your neck. “Well, I uh…love this place. The food is great. You made a good pick.”

He smiles triumphantly at your praise. “Great! Let’s get some dinner then!”

Before you can protest he signals the bartender.

“What’s your suggestion,” Scott asks.

The bartender’s eyes slide to you, a question hanging silently in his gaze, and you smile before saying, “the burgers are really good.”

“Sounds great,” Scott smiles. “Make it two burgers.”

The bartender nods and walks back toward the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to show up?” you ask.

“They can order something if they come.”

“If…?” you question, but your next thought is interrupted when he lays a hand on your knee.

Your urge to pull away overrides everything else and you swivel on the stool, placing your drink down on the bar and standing.

“I’m just going to use the restroom before the food comes,” you explain, keeping a strained smile plastered to your face.

Scott smiles back and as you walk away from the bar you can feel his eyes on you the whole time.

When you reach the bathroom you rush inside the door and lock it, quickly grabbing your phone.

“Hey babe,” Joel answers after the first ring, “missed me that much already?”

“Can you come get me?” you ask in a hushed whisper.

“Are you ok?” he asks, his voice suddenly hard and alert.

“I’m fine…I just need you to come and get me…pretend I need to come home or something. I don’t know. Just make it work.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asks again and you can hear his keys jangling.

“Yeah, just hurry. My boss is the only one here and he’s being sketchy.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the bathroom.”

“Just stay there. I’ already in the truck.”

“I can’t Joel. I have to go back out. I can’t make this look too weird.”

“I knew I didn’t like this guy. He’s an asshole. I should knock him out flat when I get there.”

“Joel,” you plead.

“Ok sweetheart,” he relents with a softened tone. “I’m already on my way.”

“Ok. I’ll be at the bar.”

You hang up and wash your hands then take a deep breath.

As you walk back to the bar you see Scott searching for you, his smile widening when he spots you approaching.

“There you are,” he says as you sit. “I ordered you another drink.”

“Oh,” you answer, looking at your first drink that’s still half full. “Thanks.”

You make small talk, trying to keep the conversation neutral and focused on easy topics like movies and music. He orders his third drink before the food arrives and you can tell he’s starting to get a little drunk.

The bartender shows up with your food orders and when you don’t take a bite your boss frowns.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

You get the impression he’s waiting for you to take a bite before he does so you pop a fry into your mouth.

“These are really good,” you mumble through the mouthful.

He looks pleased and takes a bite of his burger.

“So is the burger,” he says after swallowing. “Good idea.”

Your eyes slide to the door of the bar when you hear it open but it’s not Joel and your shoulders deflate.

“Everything ok?” Scott asks.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” you answer quickly and drag your eyes from the door.

As you’re slowly sipping your water you see Scott’s fork pause halfway to his mouth. His eyes are trained on something over your shoulder, by the door, and you know Joel has arrived.

You place your drink down and turn. He’s standing just a few feet away, covetous dark eyes focused on you. A familiar awareness races along your skin, heating it but at the same time making you shiver with anticipation.

He starts to move toward you with purposeful steps, his jaw set in determination and his fists clenched at his sides.

Without removing his gaze from you he slowly slides his hand across your shoulders and down your arm, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your palm and then hauls you off the stool into his arms.

You visibly relax and your eyes go bright with relief as he looks you over.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m here.”

You press yourself against his chest and grab a fistful of his shirt.

“Hey yourself.”

Scott clears his throat and it snaps you out of your cocoon of comfort. Reluctantly you put some space between you and Joel and open your mouth to introduce him.

He beats you to it.

“Joel,” he says, holding out his hand. “Her boyfriend.”

Scott looks surprised at first and then skeptical as he reaches his hand out. You can tell Joel shakes it with a death grip and you try to suppress a giggle.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Scott says.

“Well, she definitely is” Joel answers with a hard grind of his jaw.

“That’s too bad for me,” Scott says.

Joel’s arm tightens around your waist and you can hear his growl of disapproval. Scott seems oblivious to his inappropriateness and you want to punch him yourself.

Instead, you ask Joel, “so what’s going on? Is everything ok at home?” You signal as you best you can with your eyes that he better come up with a good excuse as to why he showed up at the bar.

“Right,” Joel says. “I don’t mean to disturb your work get together,” and he says that with a wry smile and a sarcastic tone, “but I need you to come home.”

“We haven’t finished eating,” Scott chimes in.

“We’ll get it wrapped,” Joel replies cooly.

You give his side a little squeeze, hoping to prompt him to elaborate.

“The dog threw up all over the floor. Think she ate something funny. I figured you would want to come home and check on her.”

He says it all in a rush of words, looking worried.

“The dog!” you exclaim. “Oh poor thing.”

Your boss looks between the two of you. “I didn’t know you had a dog either,” he says.

“Well, you mentioned you wanted to get to know me better,” you say, hoping you sound sweet enough.

“So this is my boyfriend Joel and we live together with our dog…Macaroni.”

You can feel Joel’s body shake with his restrained laughter.

“That’s an interesting name…” Scott muses.

“She’s a light beige color and wiggles a lot,” Joel adds. “It fits.”

You laugh and it’s not forced, the whole made up story sounding more and more like a life you could easily and happily live.

When you spot the bartender you ask for a to go container and pack up your barely eaten food. Joel takes out his wallet and drops some cash on the bar.

“I’m sorry I have to run off like this,” you say, feigning disappointment.

“It’s ok,” Scott answers. “It was nice to hang out. Even for a little while. See you Monday.”

Joel nods his goodbye without another word and slides his large hand to the small of your back, directing you toward the door.

“I want turn around and wipe that smile off his face with my fist,” Joel whispers as he leans down close to your ear.

You giggle and walk through the door he holds open for you, taking a deep inhale of the damp night air.

“That was some story you threw together,” you say with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, it worked right?! Now let’s get home and check on Macaroni.”

He takes your hand and tugs you toward his pick-up truck.

“But my car,” you say as you pass it by.

“I’m taking you home,” he answers.

“But…”

You reach his truck and he spins you around, pinning you against the door.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Please.”

You blink at him. “Ok.”

“Are you sure nothin’ happened?” he asks for the millionth time.

“I am. He just makes me uncomfortable and I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“And you called me,” he says, stepping closer and crowding you against his truck.

At the feel of his body pressed along yours you suck in a breath of air.

“You told me to call…” you start in a whisper. “And you’re the only one I want to call anyway.”

The wind picks up, whipping around and mussing his hair, the dark curls falling over his forehead. You lift your hand to brush them away and the first raindrop falls, cold and heavy.

“Shit,” Joel mutters when he feels several more drops hit his shoulders.

The sky opens up and the air is filled with the sound of the raindrops pelting the truck. The two of you are quickly getting soaked and his shirt starts to stick to his skin, highlighting every dip and curve of muscle. His dark lashes are thick and damp and his hair hangs loosely around his face, with just a curl at the ends.

His gaze sweeps down your body as your dress does the same, clinging to your wet skin and revealing the lace of your bra.

When his eyes are on yours again they’re filled with unbridled heat and you react by pressing yourself closer and tracing the broad width of his shoulders, your arms circling around his neck and your fingers delving into his hair.

Your lips hover just an inch apart and a low moan slips out of you, the sound making him release a sharp breath.

“Joel,” you whisper, barely audible over the rain.

He presses his palm to your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin and wiping away a drop of rain before he cradles your face and drags your lips to his.

Despite the coolness of the rain his touch is warm, the feeling spreading along your skin as you become soft and pliable in his arms.

You cling to him, matching his heaving breathing when he pulls away. He runs his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, groaning when your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his expression almost pained.

You lick your lips, a clear invite for more, and he almost loses his last thread of sanity.

“Fuck,” he breathes out as his gaze dips to your mouth again, studying your lips like he wants to devour them.

The rain has completely soaked through your clothes but you could care less and when his lips find yours again you can feel the growl that moves through his throat. It sends you over the edge and you slide your hands down his chest, grasping at the wet material until you can slip your fingers under and feel his skin, keeping him impossibly close.

When you pull back, only to catch your breath, you follow the trail of a drop of rain as it runs down his temple and across his cheek, collecting on his upper lip. You gently suck it off, moaning when his hands grip your ass and he rocks his hips.

His hand smooths along the curve of your spine and his lips fall to your neck with a soft kiss.

He gathers you against him, running his nose along your throat until his warm breath fans your lips and his eyes are focused on yours.

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he whispers. “Let me take you home. Let me make you mine.”

@lizette50 @hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller the last of us #pre!outbreak joel miller x reader #no!oubtreak Joel miller x reader #friends to lovers #protective!joel miller

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yes-divine-ruler · 11 months

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(18+!!) ok wait so… It’s Halloween… you’re out with Tate… he can’t keep it together because your costume makes him horny.

Tate holds your hand tightly as you both venture down the sidewalk. His costume is eerily familiar. He wears a long, black trench coat and his face had been painted in likeness to a skeleton. His blonde, usually curly, hair is slicked back out of his face. His grip on your hand tightens as you pass by other people your age, some shamelessly taking in the appearance of your revealing costume. Much to Tate’s annoyance, you insisted that Halloween was the one time of year you had an excuse to dress like you were begging for it. The delicate lace that decorates your cleavage distracts Tate more than once. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans just from lingering beside you. At times, he takes a moment to trail behind you to catch a glimpse of the mounded flesh of your ass cheeks from under your tiny skirt. You know what his game is, of course, and occasionally brush the back of your hand across the front of his jeans. Tate doesn’t take to it lightly, and after teasing him for the forth, and final, time, he has no choice but to trap you behind a big, oak tree in the park and bend you over. His fingers make quick work of your panties, tugging the thin, soaked piece of fabric down your long legs. Your ass jiggles around his hand as he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them upwards to press against your sweet spot. “Thought you could tease me and get away with it? In that little, slutty costume?” He mumbles huskily against the shell of your ear, tickling his nose with the freshly-washed hair on the side of your head. You smelt like vanilla, and a hint of coconut. A sweet and sensual scent that had Tate moaning softly against you. Tate spits, directly onto your needy cunt, using his fingertips to spread the saliva over your pulsing clit. “Tate, please, I need you inside me,” you plead, reaching around to grasp onto his throbbing cock, sure to be staining his boxers with smears of pre-cum. Tate unveils his rock-hard length, stroking it with a mix of your arousal and his saliva. He teases you, circling your entrance with the leaking tip of his cock. Caving to his own eagerness, it’s not long before Tate is stretching you out with his girth. Your fingernails dig into the flaking bark of the tree, trying your hardest to find the leverage you need to soften each ravaging thrust. Soft whimpers turn into loud, destitute moans. Tate’s hand wraps around your mouth to stop the ruckus you’re making in an attempt to shield you from the eyes of passer-byers. “That’s it baby, take my fucking cock. You love how it fills you to the fucking brim, don’t you?” Tate’s grip on you only get tighter as he slams into your poor, little cunt, using it to alleviate his painful desire for you. Stars appear behind your closed eyelids when Tate’s free hand slithers down between your body and the trunk of the tree to stimulate your swollen clit. “Uh fuck- can feel you squeezing tight around me, let up sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum,” Tate seethes behind clenched teeth, the lewd, squelching sounds each thrust pulls from your dripping cunt pushing you both a step towards release. It’s not long before the intense pleasure of Tate’s tip nudging against your sweet spot sends you over the edge. Tate holds you up as your orgasm washes over you in big, tremulous waves. Tate growls into your hair, a few last thrust just enough for him to let go inside of your clenching walls. When he pulls out, he’s quick to pull up your panties, rubbing over the cloth to make sure his cum stays with you. “You’re gonna walk around the rest of the night with these soaking wet panties. And I don’t want to hear a single complaint. You little tease.” He tucks himself away, and taking a hold of your hand again, he begins to pace down the sidewalk like nothing happened. Even though, you can barely stand on your two feet from how weak your legs are now.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #tate langdon fanfic #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon smut #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon #ahs murder house #ahs smut #ahs fandom #ahsfx

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bananami · 5 months

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and just like that i’m back on my nanami bs. i hope this helps you all heal from the trauma that was season 2 of jjk <3 (cw: pure fluff, dad!nanami, wife!reader, sex is alluded to a number of times, nanami is just desperate for his wife ok)

“he just passed out, he usually naps for a good 30 minutes. i can do it in 20.”

you can’t help but laugh at your husband. ever since adopting yuuji the two of you have been adapting to your lives with a toddler. that included very limited one on one time, and it was taking a toll on nanami.

“i have to fold the laundry,” you’re tone is apologetic but your face tells him you find this amusing.

“you’re the greatest multitasker i know.”

you feel his arms wrap around you as you continue to fold yuuji’s t-shirts. the kid was so messy sometimes, it caused him to go through his entire closet in a weeks time. “we need to seriously go shopping and get him more things to wear.” you spun around to wrap your arms around his waist. “your child is a dirty little gremlin.”

“your husband is trying to be one too but you won’t let him act on it.”

“you are not gonna be 20 minutes, you say that but you’re not quick with it anymore old man.”

“who are you calling old man? i’m spry for my age.”

“see, you even sound like an old man.”

“an old man who just wants to show his wife how much he still loves her.” his hands slide up and down your back, holding you to him and bringing his lips to yours. “i love you. i miss you.”

“i miss you too kento,” you let him take his time kissing you. “ok, what if-“

“i love where this is going already.”

“i haven’t even told you.”

“the prospect of things makes me excited. really gets me going.”

you giggle, “so repressed.”

“you have no idea, it’s taking everything in me not to turn you around and accost you right here on the dining room table.” he leans his face down to nuzzle and kiss at your neck.

“accost?”

“accost. respectfully.”

you tighten your arms around his waist, satisfied with the heavy affection he’s showing you. “what if i call up gojo-“

“and just like that i’m soft.”

“kento!” you smack him in the back but can’t help the smile that sneaks onto your face. he’s so easy to rile up.

“you know the emotions his name invokes in me. i can’t stand him.”

“i was going to say, what if i called him up to see if yuuji can spend the weekend at his and geto’s place with megumi, and then you and i can have the entire weekend together. just the two of us.”

“i love him.”

“wow, wait until i tell him you said that.”

“i’ll never admit to it.” nanami takes your face into his hands, kissing at your lips over and over until a giggling voice breaks the moment.

“eeeeew!!” yuuji runs forward from the other side of the hallway, jumping up and down at nanami’s feet. “up, up, up!!” and when he does the pink haired little boy leans over to give you a kiss on the nose.

“thank you, yuuji,” you give his nose a kiss in return.

“thank you, mama!!”

nanami narrows his eyes and scratches at the boy’s belly, sending yuuji into another round of giggles at being tickled. “guess who’s house your gonna sleepover at this weekend.”

you send a look toward your husband. “he hasn’t agreed yet, i still have to call him.”

“he’ll agree. because if he doesn’t,” he presses a million little kisses all over yuuji’s face, “i might actually die. and then who will he have to annoy at work?”

“he does like to annoy you.”

“i’m well aware.”

“i’ll call him now.”

nanami sets yuuji down, sending him into the kitchen. before following him, he leans over to give you one last lingering kiss on the lips. “i love you,” his smile lifts into a tiny smirk, “and it is for that reason exactly that i say, with all of the love i can muster, i am going to ruin you this weekend.”

“ruin me?”

“ruin you. respectfully.”

#nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #papamin #baby yuuji

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thefantasyden · 3 months

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A Little Too Much

Pairing: Chris + F Reader

Genre: SMUT, FLUFF

Warnings: Daddy! Chris, slightly mean behaviour from reader in the beginning, overwhelm, stressed reader, doting Chris, oral sex (f receiving), penetration, biting, marking, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, sub space, crying, begging, maybe overstim?, praise.

Words: 2066

Summary: You're feeling incredibly overwhelmed and snappy and your sweet Daddy Chris knows exactly how to fix that.

What a fucking day.

You'd been yelled at by clients all day, you'd broken a heel on your shoe, you had work due in days that you hadn't even started on. It's hardly a surprise that you're feeling snappy by the time you get home, dishes from breakfast sat in the sink, calling out to you. You could cry if you thought about it for too long.

You're throwing yourself into the pillows on the couch the second your shoes are kicked off, screaming into the fluffy fabric that your boyfriend had picked out months before. The fur tickles your nose and makes you sneeze, irritating you just that little bit more. You felt out of control and overwhelmed, and you hated it.

"Baby~ I'm home!" You hear Chris call out, the door slamming shut behind him, making you groan.

"Do you have to be so loud?" You call out in response, tugging one of the blankets of the back of the couch to throw over your head.

Chris makes his way to the couch, currently oblivious to your mood as he pulls the blanket from you, immediately met with your scowl.

"Bad day, baby?"

"What do you think?" You snap at him harsher than intended. It feels like every question is pushing you closer to tears, demanding you to think more when your head is already filled to the brim. It doesn't take him long to figure it out, sitting beside you and pulling your legs into his lap as he rubs firm circles on your aching feet and ankles.

"Chris, can you leave me alone?" You whine, making no attempt to move away from him. He just smiles in response, continuing to move his firm massaging motions up your legs, willing away the tension they were holding.

"Baby, you don't need to be snappy with me." His voice is gentle, not an ounce of scolding even when you quietly tell him to fuck off.

You're groaning when he moves your legs off him, getting off the couch so that he can kneel down beside you, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides just a little bit to make you gasp in surprise.

"My poor baby. Let Daddy help you, ok?" He kisses you softly, and you nod in response, huffing as he stands and scoops you up off the couch, carrying you to the bedroom and sitting you on the edge of the bed. You dont try to do anything, just sitting quietly and glaring at the man in front of you with a pout. You know he'll take care of you, and you make no attempt to suppress the terrible mood you're in, knowing he was willing and able to deal with it for you.

He's slow as he strips you, lifting your arms for you before he tugs your shirt over your head, your pants quickly following along with your underwear until you're completely naked and at his mercy, his hands cupping your face to kiss you before they trail down your shoulders, over you chest and down toward your thighs as he kneels infront of you and nudges them apart to give him a clear view of the way your pussy spreads for him. He's still in awe no matter how many times he's seen it, his thumb reaching up to rub tiny but firm circles at your clit which makes you keen into his touch, your glare dropping a little as you accept the pleasure he's offering you.

"Lay back, baby." He asks quietly, his mouth pressing wet kisses over your inner thighs. You scoff but choose to obey anyway, grabbing one of the teddies you kept on your bed to use as a pillow before your arms are draped over your face.

He doesn't ask you to uncover yourself, too focused, as he wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you forward a little to meet his tongue which is now lapping at the slick that covers your pussy, wanting to taste every drop as he preps you. He always likes to make sure you're dripping, your thighs needing to be covered before he would even think to slip a finger inside your greedy hole.

His tongue works at you for what feels like forever, occasionally pausing to nip at the flesh of your thighs hard enough to leave pretty little marks littering your soft skin. You can feel your stress melting away as he teases you, your mind feeling cloudy and your thoughts floating away. You can feel your own fluids dripping down on to the sheets, hearing Chris coo as his arm leaves your thigh, his finger swiping between your lips to collect some of your wetness before he brings it up to your mouth, nodding his approval as your tongue darts out to clean it off him.

"Look at you. This is all for Daddy, isn't it? My needy girl. You want my fingers, baby?" He asks you so sweetly that you're moaning out loud in response, whining instead of answering properly. He's being kind to you today, accepting your desperate whines as if they were spoken pleas for him to touch you.

The moan that leaves your lips when he slides two fingers inside you is music to his ears as he begins pumping the digits in and out of you, making sure to press firmly against your gspot every time. Your high-pitched sounds only spur him on, the push of his fingers inside you only getting faster and harder as you squirm, now verbalising how badly you need him. He loves hearing it almost as much as he loves seeing the effect he has on your body.

"You wanna cum baby? I know you do. My sweet thing. Do you wanna cum on my fingers?"

He's confused when you shake your head, chuckling to himself when you start rambling.

"Need you cock. Please Daddy! I'll be good. Please? Wanna cum on your cock." Your mind is completely free of any though that isn't Chris and how desperately you need to be close to him. You need him wrapped around you until you feel suffocated by him.

"Shhh baby. I got you." He's moving you up the bed, making sure your head is propped up on your pillows, grabbing one of his firmer ones as he asks you to lift your hips so that he can slide it beneath your lower back. You're already losing it, knowing exactly how good he's about to make you feel.

"Please..." Your eyes are watery now, a few tears sliding down your cheeks when you stare up at him as he strips his shirt and pants, drooling at the sight of his hard cock in all it's glory. "I need you!"

"I know, baby. You're okay." He kisses your forehead before he presses a passionate kiss to your lips, settling himself between your thighs as your legs wrap around his waist. His tongue explores your mouth for a moment before he pulls away, using one arm beside your head to prop himself up as his other hand wraps around his cock, dragging the tip through your folds to coat him with your juices before he's pressing it slowly inside you, pausing to take a mental picture of the way your pussy wraps around him, your walls drawing him in like he was made for you. He's sure he was made for you, but that's a sentiment he'll hold on to for a more appropriate time.

"Fuck, you look so good like this. Love seeing you cry for me." Kisses press along the lines of your tears as he buries himself inside of you, eventually choosing to muffle his moans in your neck as he finds his own overwhelm hitting him. He's always amazed by how good it feels to have you wrapped around him.

"Could stay like this forever. My pretty baby. All mine." His body presses aginst your own, caging you in as he sets his pace, making sure he's as deep as possible with every thrust inside your soaked cunt.

Your head is thrown back, your neck exposed in the most tempting way. It's impossible for him to resist the urge to sink his teeth into it, and you welcome the slight burn as he sucks bright red marks into the previously untainted spanse of skin. He always feels more possessive when he starts losing himself to the feelings that flood him when he has you like this, vulnerable and breaking under him. It's something special, something he finds heartbreakingly beautiful. Knowing he's the only person you'd every trust to expose yourself to like this. It's like you were laying your heart in his hands, and he wants nothing more than to lock it away and keep it safe forever.

His hands are moving to lock with your own, fingers lacing as he pins you to the bed, fucking into you harder now as you both surrender to the primal feelings of need. He's desperate to make you cum for him. He needs to feel you clench around him as you fall apart.

He's kissing you messily, spit coating your mouths as your tongues dance against each other. He can't physically get any closer to you, but it's still not enough. He'll never get enough of you. He's obsessed.

"Feels so fucking good baby. You're so fucking good. My good girl. Fuck." There's a growl to his voice, and the words are flowing before he can even think them through. "I wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby. I want you to squeeze me nice and tight when I fill you. I know you can do that for me, can't you? My obedient baby. My desperate girl."

The tears are flowing down your cheeks, and you're mumbling an incoherent mix of 'please Daddy' and 'thank you' as you're pushed over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock as you pant heavily.

He can't hold back once he looks at your face, pleasure flushing your features as you moan his title like a mantra. He's cumming in seconds, your fluids mixing and flooding down the sides of his length as he fills you to the brim. He fucks you through your high in spite of his own overstimulation, falling beside you with a groan after you've finally pushed him away. Even in his post nut haze, he reaches a hand out to rest on your chest, making sure that your breathing manages to steady. He can't help but worry when you get like this.

It takes him a few minutes to regain any strength, but the second he does, he's pulling you into his side, petting your hair as you sob into his shoulder. He knows how badly you needed this, and he's honoured that he could give it to you.

It takes 5 or so minutes before you calm down, the flood of feelings passing just enough for you to be capable of muttering an apology to him which he immediately shuts down, reminding you that this is what he lives for. It takes another 10 minutes before he's able to get up, picking up his discarded shirt and helping you put it on to shake off some of the chill as he carries your limp body to the bathroom, only setting you down once he's standing in front of the toilet, urging you to go pee as he runs a hot bath. He's pouring bubbles under the running water when he hears you calling for him, rinsing his hand before he walks over to you and runs his hand through your hair, gently massaging your scalp as your eyes fall closed.

"I'm so proud of you." He whispers, kissing your head again before he's gently pushing you toward the bath, stripping you and holding his hand out for you as you climb in and settle yourself slowly into the hot water before he slips in behind you, gripping your tightly so that your back is resting against his chest, your head against his shoulder.

He gently massages your thighs, allowing you to soak in the bliss of being free from thought for as long as he's able to. He'll help you talk through your problems tomorrow, but right now, all he wants is to keep you wrapped safely in his arms.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #stray kids bang chan smut #stray kids chan smut #skz chan smut #skz bang chan smut #chan smut

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sinsandsweetness · 6 months

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hi my love <3

do you think you could do a rick grimes fluff where it’s an established relationship where he’s got a short fuse for everyone else but her and he’s super soft and gentle to her

or rick with a sleepy reader who he just lets fall asleep on his lap as he strokes her hair when he’s in the middle of discussing something important with someone else

ok I'm currently painting my toenails baby pink and got me thinking about rickyl with hyperfeminine!reader. (I know u said rick but this is what my brain said so...enjoy?)

It’s way too late but you can’t really help that you’re a night owl. And besides, the boys are still up, lights on in the living room, the two of them talking strategy for some hoard the group has been tracking for a few weeks. The conversation seems really important so you don’t want to interrupt but you also can’t see all that well since your glasses broke on that run last week and you’ve yet to find any new ones… so you were really hoping someone would help you out.

With your bottle of nail polish in hand, you stand in the doorway, fighting an internal battle of if you should go in or not. So in doubt, you hover, putting a few dishes away in the kitchen. Grabbing some water. Checking the fridge. All while the glass bottle of pink polish becomes warm in your hand. Bare feet padding against the cool hardwood as you finally decide to just go back to bed. The safety of the community is undoubtably more important than your damn toes.

“You alright, angel?” Ricks voice is soft as it travels to your spot on the stairs, swiveling around to see both men eyeing you down. Gaze travveling up your bare legs to your tiny little boy shorts and the oversized sweater with a stretched out collar and way too many holes in it.

“Mhm.” You quip, flashing a candy sweet smile.

“You’re pacin’. What’s up?” Daryl isn’t convinced as he looks you in the eyes, elbows leaned onto his knees. Still in his work clothes. Jacket, vest and jeans. Even his boots are still laced up.

“I just-" you look down at your bare toes. All prepped for paint, cut and filed and screaming at you to give them some colour. “Can one of you help me paint my toes?”

The way both of their faces soften at your answer gives you butterflies. They’re always way too worried. Too on edge. Especially when it comes to you. Wanting to protect you. Keep you safe and healthy and happy. So that’s why when they notice you pacing in the kitchen at half past midnight, they jump to their own little conclusions about what might be wrong. About what could possibly be going on in that beautiful mind of yours.

“C’mhere.” Rick pats a hand on the couch cushion next to him which you happily take. Practically skipping over and plopping down, ass on the cushion and feet in his lap.

He takes the bottle and gives it a little shake before continuing his conversation with Daryl, who doesn’t seem to be listening as attentively as he was before. With you laying on the couch, long legs sprawled out and a sleepy smile on your pretty face, you’ve become quite the distraction.

Ricks hands are warm as he holds your feet, carefully painting each nail, all while he stays talking. You hear snippets like, “- well if we do that, then they’ll just be headed for Oceanside. We need to find a route that makes sense for everyone, even if it means-” but you aren’t really listening. You’re more focused on making heart eyes with Daryl and playing with a loose string on the hem of your sweater. Eyes growing heavy with each coat of paint. The intoxicating, chemical smell that you've weirdly enough grown to love, fills the room and your feet tickle when rick blows cool air on them. Closing the bottle and popping it back into your hand while he leans back and asks Daryl something off topic about a run with Aaron. thumb running over your foot, hand traveling up your calf and gently massaging the muscle there. You sink even further into the couch, all warm and tired and cozier then ever. The combination of Ricks touch sending tingles up your spine, and the drawl of both their voices, act in accordance to lull you right to sleep.

You know that even if you do fall asleep here on the couch, it's no big deal. They'd carry you to bed in a heartbeat. They have before. So you let your eyes flutter shut under the comforting fact that you’re sure to wake up in clean, warm covers with a man on either side of you and two big arms wrapped around your waist.

#rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixion x reader #rick grimes imagine #rickyl drabble #Rickyl x reader #rickyl x you #rickyl x y/n #rickyl fluff #rickyl #rick x reader x daryl #rick grimes x reader x daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #twd imagines #rickyl daydream

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teddybeartoji · 1 month

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hi mickey! i kinda can’t stop thinking about your snow leopard!gojo and i have a question… do you know how when female cats go into heat they get so clingy and like… slutty? with their ass up and meowing really loud non stop just very needy… what about subby gojo? or do you think he leans more on the dominant side?

HIIII VAL!!!!!! LITERALLY RUSHED TO ANSWER THIS BC 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 i think he definitely leans towards being a sub!!! he wants you to take care of him, he want you to baby him. he's like a fucking pillow princess lmao. i don't really see him going too feral in a dominant way. feral in a slutty way is a big yes though. he's sooooo fucking needy holy fucking shit.

ok but the heats.... i think for men it's called a rut..... i think.... BUT I'M ALSO NEW IN THE HYBRID WORLD LMAO SO I'M NOT SURE. anyway.... he's losing his mind whenever he goes into a rut. he's humping your bed, your pillows, he's stealing your underwear, he's sniffing them, he's licking them - he turns into a real perv. he just can't help it. you smell so fucking good. oh, and he most certainly likes to nose at your crotch..... like he's sitting at your feet and just burying his face into you. oke and he might... hump your leg, too. he's just sooo sensitivee:(((( and he needs your help:(((((( to take care of his problem:(((( he's gonna make you do it. he's a little manipulator:(((

he gives you his best little puss in boots eyes as he guides your hand to his rock hard cock and it's so hard to say no to him bc his nose is so pink and his lips are so pouty and his fuzzy ears are tilted downward and his tail is thumping against the floor and yeah he knows you're going to make him feel good because you love him right?

iiiiii think he's also very likely to just grind on you overall. whenever he sits on your lap, he's mewling and whining into your neck while his tail wraps around your leg, tickling your skin. mmmmmmmmmmm i'm going insane actually.

i think he also makes messes just so you'd have to punish him. he literally can't be without your attention, no matter what kind it is.

okay fuck wait but back to the ruts sorry i blacked out for a sec there. the whole point is breeding you. like he needs to cum inside you. he needs to. he likes to trap you below him and he likes to fuck you in the prone bone position🥴🥴🥴he loves it sm bc he can nip at your skin - at your cheeks, at your ears, at your neck. and he can keep you there. when he gets into it... he doesn't stop. and he obviously can go for so many fucking rounds. so he loves it when you're crying from overstim below him, bucking your hips into him subconciously.

but don't think he's playing like a dom daddy!!! oh no! he's still in your ears begging and whining. the word 'please' is spilling from his lips like a waterfall. it just feels so fucking good, you feel so good. he's also slurring out the good old "i'll be good, i'll be so good for you." and "one more. please, just one more." and "can i cum? please, can i cum?". he's so perfect i want to cry aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh

aaaaand after all that he just likes to lay on top of you bc ofc he does. his tail trails over your sweaty limbs in a comforting manner as he listens to your pounding heart<3333333

#hello ramble-post #started thinking abt a needy gojo and i died #i'm so glad you're here though val<333333333333333333 #he's driving us all mad and now you can join the party!!!!!!#ily #snow leopard!gojo #thinking thoughts #val <3 #friends!!#tw hybrids

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fluffyfluffyscarecrow · 3 months

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Platonic Cuddling Headcanons w/ Angel Dust

I've loved this dude for years so I think it's time I start writing for him. I just want to be his friend and give him all my love.

Switches between little/big spoon. He absolutely loves being held but is more than happy to be the one holding you if you want.

(Yes, I know he's 8 feet tall, but little spoon Angel is everything to me so just let me have this ok?)

If he's the one holding you, he'll let you lay your head in his fluffy chest. Not only does it feel amazing on your end, it's also quite relaxing for him as well.

He's fluffy so he's heavenly to cuddle with. He especially loves it when you stroke his chest, hair, and back.

He is also quite ticklish, particularly on his stomach, armpits, and thighs. He would prefer that you ask before tickling him, though.

His hugs are amazing!!!! I mean he has four arms. He'll hold you as long and as tight as you need.

Just such an incredibly comforting guy.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin x reader #angel dust x reader #fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #angel dust headcanons #angel dust fluff

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starry-eyes-love · 6 months

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Marriage Dynamics- Relaxin' is Hard Work

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pairings: Husband Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+ Minors DNI) AU, No outbreak

Summary | Joel takes the day off to spend it with you. You take him to a salon for a couples pedicure and massage, but somehow your wires get crossed and instead of spending the afternoon relaxing, you spend the afternoon working on improving communication in your marriage. Reader mentions she's pregnant, but is too scared to admit it to her husband. Joel eventually figures it out.

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI. Husband and wife marriage dynamics, age gap (he's 52 and she's 37), language, light smut (reader gets handsy in public), Joel whimpers at her touching him (it needs its own warning), arguments with angst at times, reader berates herself, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, reader over thinks things (a lot), terms of endearment used (baby, babe, honey, mama, Angel, etc.), slight flirtatious behavior (what can I say, Joel loves his wife), Joel tickles his wife (it needs its own warning), fluffy parts sprinkled in here and there, reference and descriptions of pregnancy, references to unplanned pregnancy, female reader briefly mentions past abuse with father (yet no in-depth specifics are given), mentions of body issues and body descriptions, mentions of feeling ill (female reader gets sick and vomits in garbage can). Think I got them all. Enjoy :)

Word Count: 6.1k

“Ok sexy mama, I'll get my toes painted” he commented, while reaching down and tickling your belly to hear you laugh some more. You started squealing and squirming as he tickled your stomach, a ticklish spot you had. Joel loved to hear you squeal and break out in a fit of laughter. The more he heard it the more his heart swelled large in his chest and the tighter his pants got in the front. It had been a long time since…

Joel stood there next to you at the counter glancing over all the items that were there, thinking to himself, why do I get myself in these predicaments with her? Here he was taking the day off from work to spend it with you, something that doesn't happen very often. You promised him a fun, relaxing day together. However, as he watched you pay for a couples massage and pedicure, he thought this is not my idea of fun nor relaxin’.

Earlier that Day

"Darlin', I'm not sure about this," he said as you pulled up to the salon.

"Come on Joel, you're always griping about how your back and feet hurt. Now you can take care of them," you replied while parking the car.

You watched him rub the back of his neck awkwardly saying "I know baby, but me, a pedicure? I mean come on, I thought we were gonna do something fun.”

"Joel, you're gonna love it, trust me.”

Joel just glared at you as he slowly ground his teeth while releasing a long exhale. He was trying to figure out how he could get out of doing this.

“Babe, you'll really relax doing this.” You said, trying to get him to see reason.

“No I won't Angel. This-” Joel said, waving his hand towards the salon, “is just plain silly. Sure for you it's fun and relaxin’, but for me, it's just silly. If the guys at the construction site ever saw this-”

“The guys at the construction site, is that what you're really concerned about? The guys?”

“Babe, you don't understand.”

“Yeah I get it Joel. God forbid you spend a day with your wife doing something relaxing. How embarrassing that would be for you.” You replied, letting anger seep into your words.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh saying “Nevermind, ya don't understand.”

You instantly felt a sting of jealousy at his concern, that being seen with his wife would cause him extreme discomfort. Joel hardly saw you anymore, and he never had a problem doing this stuff with you in the past. In a defeated tone you said, “Fine Joel, I get it. This is silly. But babe, we don't get to spend any time together.”

“And you thought that this was the best way to do it? A damn pedicure? Where the hell does this say ‘Joel Miller would love this,’ huh?” You watched him shake his head and look out the passenger window frustrated.

You felt your internal walls go up, wanting to shut down. To close yourself off from people who hurt you. You wanted to retreat back into the darkness of your mind, not allow anyone in again. You've struggled in life for far too long with this concept of not allowing others in. Joel was the only man who could break down those walls, and now you were struggling not to push him out.

In the past Joel used to do fun little things like this with you, even if they were silly. Hell, he was the first person to introduce you to the world of pedicures and massages when he dated you. It was the best activity the two of you could do with his young preteen daughter when he couldn't find a babysitter. You never minded back then as you just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend. You remember one time you were a little hesitant and Joel eased your nerves by saying ‘Come on darlin.' It doesn't matter what the guys at the construction site or anyone else says. I wanna spend time with you. I know this seems silly, but it'll be relaxin’. I can promise you that, so trust me.’ You found yourself repeating those exact same words to Joel now, begging with your eyes for him to remember.

“Honey, that's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard as to why we should do this. Whoever said that to you was a liar and an idiot” he told you, shaking his head and laughing hard. You quickly looked away and felt the red hot burn in the back of your throat start. He didn't remember his time with you.

Joel had hardly been home for the past year. His business, Miller Contracting, signed the biggest contract in history about a year ago out of town. Joel was making a large amount of money, his business skyrocketing almost overnight after years of struggle. You, being his wife, were so proud of him, for his ability to never have to struggle with his business again. He had work lined up for the next 3 years for this big development company, and then he just recently signed two more large contracts for other companies. Joel finally had steady work for many more years to come. You knew that Joel Miller was finally set for life with his business. But you couldn't say the same thing for your marriage.

Joel used to do all these silly little things with you. It's what made hard times bearable in the past. But ever since a year ago your husband's attitude has changed. In the past year you felt like you had gone from Joel's loving wife, to a ‘thing’ or an ‘it’ to him.

“I guess you're right,” you said, looking out the window at the salon. You were trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to come at the realization that life was different now. “I don't know what else we could do at the last minute.”

“Yeah, m’ither” Joel said while picking lint off his jeans and refusing to look at you in the face anymore.

“Joel, do you still want to do something with me today?” You waited in silence as he stared out the window, not answering you.

“Joel” you said a little bit louder, still trying for a connection. But yet again, no answer. Uncomfortable silence continued for several minutes, neither one of you uttering a single word. Finally, Joel broke first by exhaling loudly. He then closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat's headrest.

“Joel, are you still with me honey?” you asked one last time. When silence continued, that's when you understood that you had failed miserably at trying to have a fun and relaxing day.

“I'll just take you home then, leave you alone, and let you rest.” You mumbled out loud, more to yourself. “God y/n, why are you so fucking stupid. If he didn't want to do stuff with you before, he sure as hell won't want to do anything with you now. Stupid, stupid, silly girl.”

What you didn't realize was that you verbalized your internal turmoil, and the man sitting next to you heard it. Joel hated hearing you berate yourself, a bad habit that you picked up from your father and your father's now divorced ex-wife. Joel knew that he was the cause of your current stress and anxiety. After all, he was the asshole who was never home and when he was, you two were always arguing and fighting all the time. Sure, you’ve had some amazing days like Halloween night and a promise of a week ago in the car, something that he never followed through with because he got called away to deal with shit at work. He was failing you as your partner and your husband, but most of all he was failing you as your best friend. You were his best friend, the only person that he loved spending time with. It was just today he didn’t feel up to this silly stuff you wanted to do. He knew he was the one who introduced you to this stuff with Sarah all those years ago, and that today you were just reaching for familiar territory.

Joel sat there with his eyes closed and continued to listen to you berate yourself out loud. Why does she fucking do this to herself, she knows better, he thought. He was just about to open his mouth and yell at you to knock it off when he heard you whisper “Baby, I don’t know how to tell your daddy that you’re in there. How can I when your daddy and I can't seem to find common ground anymore.”

As soon as he heard your little admission, at the potential of you being pregnant again, Joel snapped his eyes open and looked over at you. How did I not notice this, he thought. He immediately started scanning over your body, looking for any signs that he may have missed. When he stopped and really looked at you he saw them. Your black t-shirt sat more snug around your chest, he could see that your breasts were slightly swollen. Your curves were more profound, not from fat, but from water weight he suspected. Your tummy, a little pouch forming low on your belly. That's a baby, he thought. His baby, the one he put there on Halloween night. You always started to show really early on in your pregnancy. According to your doctor it was extra water weight, but to Joel it was a sign of life. Something that he hasn’t seen your body do for many years, considering your youngest boy was now seven.

Joel continued to trail his eyes slowly back up your features. He noticed the dark circles underneath your eyes. You weren’t sleeping and that worried him. You two had lost a baby before when you were 22 weeks along, a little girl that came a year before your youngest boy. He had given you two boys, but he knew you always wanted to try again for a little girl. But somehow life got in the way and you two never tried for a girl again. He was hoping this time around it was a girl.

With remembering your past pregnancies, Joel wondered how you were feeling. He knew the first stages of pregnancy were hard on you. You’d hardly sleep or eat, nausea being the worst culprit. With Joshua, your youngest, you could hardly keep anything down during the entire pregnancy. God, he hoped that wasn’t your fate now. At least he was making enough money to cover all the living expenses, in case you weren't able to work through it like before.

Joel then allowed his eyes to roam higher up to your eyes, that's when he saw that they were bloodshot. You were crying and berating yourself because of how he made a stupid comment, that he was embarrassed being seen with you at doing a pedicure. Jesus Joel, you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes, he thought.

He sat there and watched you for a moment, at your struggle to try to stop the tears that were falling from your eyes. Seeing this, hearing your confession and actually looking at you, at how stressed out you were made his heart ache. He hated to see you cry, and yet you've been doing that a lot recently, thanks to him.

"Come on, darlin,'’ you heard Joel say. “My back and feet don't have all day. Let's get this salon pampering day started.”

"Joel it's ok, we don't have to-" you said, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"No," he said. "It's a perfect idea honey, the best way to relax. I'm so sorry for snapping. I'm just- fuck baby, I'm stressed and struggling to find a proper balance between both worlds. Now come on darlin.’” Joel said, while giving your hand a tender kiss. As you both walked towards the salon, Joel gently intertwined his fingers with yours. He gave small soothing strokes with his thumb, reassuring you that he was here and present for you.

Soon Joel found himself staring at a wall with different colors of nail polish. He was being directed by you to choose a color that he wanted his toes to be painted with. "Darlin', the lady at the counter said I don't need to pick out colored nail polish."

"Tough cowboy, you're doing it. Plus it'll show support to women everywhere if you do." You tried your hardest to give him a convincing answer of why you wanted him to do this. He just looked at you and smirked, seeing straight through your attempt.

“Supportin' women has nothin' to do with it. Ya just want to laugh at me, that's all." He said, shaking his head at your attempt with reasoning with him. Why do I always get myself in these situations with her? But as he glanced over he saw you smiling ear to ear. You were practically jumping for joy at the thought of having a couples massage and couples pedicure with him. That's when he knew that all of this was worth it, especially if he could see you look happy and smile like that again.

As you were wiggling in Joel's arms laughing you happened to accidentally brush your hand up against his clothed crotch, and that's when you felt it, a firm prominent bulge. As soon as your hand brushed up against him you heard Joel let out a hiss at the sensation. He then gently nudged his hips against your hand while giving you a little whimper.

“Joel, how long has it been?” you asked, slowly palming him in the front. You were concerned, Joel was never this sensitive to sensation before and he's never whimpered like that just by the meer push of your palm. Oh, poor baby, you thought, you weren't the only one who had been neglected. You palmed him harder, trying to show him what you wanted. You felt him twitch and throb beneath you. “Baby, how long?” you whispered, pushing harder with your hand as he rutted up into you, seeking out more friction.

“Too long,” he panted. “It's been too fucking long since I, since we, fuck woman” he growled and snapped his hips forward, desperately seeking pleasure from you. He wanted to open his pants and tell you to get down on your knees and to suck his cock. He wanted to fuck your mouth so bad, then bend you over one of those salon chairs and bury himself inside of you. He wanted to show you he could be the man you needed, and be the father for your children. He wanted to put a baby inside of your nice soft-

“Baby, when was your last period?” Joel said, stopping his movements and racing mind for a moment. When you didn't answer he continued by saying “I don't remember when you had your period last. Have you had one in the last two months?”

“Don't worry about it” you said, while slowly pulling your hand away. This was not a conversation you wanted to have right now.

You walked over to the side, a few feet away from Joel and you were pretending to look at the colors of nail polish. What you were really doing was trying to slow your pounding heart in your chest. Joel approached you and slowly started to stroke your little bump saying “how late are we talking mama, huh?”

“Joel it's only 10 am and-”

“S'not what I meant sugar and you know it. Come on mama, how far along are we?” Joel said, flattening his palm over your belly and holding it there.

You looked into your husband's eyes and saw compassion behind them. You were just about to open your mouth and tell him that you were 3 weeks late when someone said “Y/n and Joel Miller, they're ready for you.”

As soon as you heard them call your names you backed away and grabbed the purple nail polish that was right in front of you. It reminded you of the first time you did this all those years ago with Sarah and him. It made you smile at the warm memory. This one is perfect, you thought. You handed it to Joel saying “I think this color would look great for the both of us.”

When Joel looked down he saw that the nail polish was purple with sparkles in it, your favorite color. When he glanced at your face he saw uncertainty in your eyes at the events that just played out. So with a grin and a squeeze from his large hand he grabbed the jar from you and said “Ok, purple it is. Now come on mama, let's go and get you nice and relaxed.”

Three hours later Joel was slowly relaxing. He was laying on his stomach, purple sparkly toe nails poking through the blanket, as a very attractive woman worked the hell out of his shoulders. Kiara, Joel's masseuse, was an expert in deep tissue massage. After the staff found out that he basically was one big hard tight knot, he was advised that deep tissue massage would be the best option.

"Aw darlin' right there," Joel said as Kiara worked on his lower back.

"Mr. Miller, you're so stiff and tight. It's gonna take me a bit to work you fully out. Does it feel better when I press right here?" Kiara asked, pushing on Joel's lower back, a place you knew turned your husband on.

"Ah yeah, right there" Joel grunted at the sensation.

You were on your own massage table being worked on by Fredrick, a middle aged man with a beer gut. While Joel had Kiara, a 42 year old big breasted, fully fit porn star looking woman. You know, the type of women your husband likes to look at when he's browsing those adult only sites.

As you continued to watch Kiara flirt with your husband, you felt your insecurities creep up into your skull, worrying you. You had no idea if Joel would be ok with this unplanned pregnancy. You knew the old Joel would be ok with it. But now you had no idea how he'd react, especially with how he has behaved this past year. The longer this went on, the more your irrational fears seeped deep into your subconscious.

When Joel moaned for the third time in less than five minutes at Kiara asking him if something felt good, you found yourself snapping at your husband. "Joel, for the love of God, can you please just shut the hell up? Really, no one wants to hear how good it feels to have someone else touch you." You didn't know why, but you were upset, angry, and hurt all at the same time. Somehow hearing someone else pull those little sighs or grunts out of your husband bothered the hell out of you.

"Look here woman, I'm enjoying myself, ok? Your fault for making me do this. So pull back the attitude now." He said, snapping at you.

After a moment he added, "What's with your attitude anyways today, huh?"

"I don't know Joel, why don't you tell me."

"Look here missy, I don't know what's up your ass today. But whatever it is, it can just stop. Don't ruin this for me with your petty bullshit. Got it?" he said, with a warning in his voice.

"Petty bullshit, really? Are you kidding me Joel? You promised me you’d spend time with me today. And-”

“And what y/n? What more could you possibly want from me today than what I’m already giving you?”

When you didn't open your mouth to argue, Joel assumed the problem was solved. That you'd stop throwing your little temper tantrum. But what he didn't realize was that the emotion you were now feeling wasn't one of defiance. You were feeling neglected and you didn't want to do this day anymore. You thought you could have a fun day with your husband, like you used to when you two dated. But now, you just wanted to go home, and pretend that today and this past year never happened. You wanted your husband to be around, present more, and not treat you like you were someone who was a burden or a checkmark on a list. You wanted to pretend that your husband still cared.

When you counted it up, it had been almost two months since you and Joel had sex last. To make matters worse, your period was almost 3 weeks late. You were worried about what he'd say when he found out. You were pregnant, that much was evident on the pregnancy test that you had taken over a week ago. You knew that your fears right now were irrational, that you were just making something out of nothing. But to you your fears felt very real. And with Joel smiling and laughing so easily with Kiara, it made your stomach hurt and twist in knots at the thought that he didn't want you anymore.

You were so lost in your own head, that you didn’t notice that Fredrick had stopped massaging your back. He could sense how tense your body was, and the turmoil of feelings that you were feeling. "Mrs. Miller, are you ok?" he whispered. When you didn’t respond to him right away, he said louder “Mrs. Miller, are you ok?”

As soon as Joel heard the question from Fredrick he snapped his head to the side to look at you. When he saw you, you were laying face down, your hand up by your mouth as you were sobbing into the table. “Baby, are you ok?” Joel asked, worried and concerned of what made you fall apart like this.

"Yeah, I'm. I'm fine” you said, trying not to have your voice break. “Can you um- can you please excuse me. I gotta- I don’t feel well.” You then got up, and walked into the changing room that was attached, tears still streaming down your face.

As Joel watched you walk away he knew this little adventure the two of you were having today was over with. He apologized to Kiara and Fredrick, stating that the both of you would be leaving early. As he went to his own dressing room to get dressed, he started thinking to himself. He knew that you were stressed out a lot, and that the two of you were having problems. He also knew that you just wanted a day to relax with him, so seeing you like this broke his heart. You have cried a lot recently and he could understand why, but it still bothered him. He didn't mean to snap at you today, he was just stressed out himself. He began to realize though that his stressors and your stressors were drastically different.

Something was up with you, that much was certain. You were more sensitive and emotional recently. If he attempted to ask you about it, you'd just blow up at him. Usually when you were more emotional it meant that you were by or on your period. But Joel was confused, especially with seeing those other bodily signs that you were having. Were you pregnant and he just didn't see it? Or were you having flare ups of your gynecological problems again and he wasn't noticing it. He was so busy with work that he didn't remember if you had your period yet, that's why he asked you earlier today. He was trying to calm his own irrational fears of being an inattentive husband.

The problem was he didn't know what was off or how to fix it with you. If your admission earlier was true, that you were in fact pregnant, then why did you hide it from him and not tell him? Were you embarrassed in carrying his child? Joel was lost in thought, trying to figure out what he could do that he almost missed hearing you get sick in the other room. As soon as he heard the telltale signs of you throwing up he muttered to himself “shit,” and finished getting dressed.

While Joel was in his dressing room getting lost in thought, you were in yours doing the same thing. You quietly dressed in your changing room, trying to calm the tears that were flowing. As you looked down you noticed the little bump you had. You kept trying to flatten your shirt overtop of it, to hide it from the world. You weren’t upset that you were pregnant, you were just overwhelmed at the moment and didn't want to think about it. But the more you tried to suck in your gut, to flatten your shirt, you started to slowly panic. You tried tucking in your shirt, then you untucked it, nothing worked to hide what was growing inside of you. You couldn't hide the embarrassment of getting pregnant from a man who you didn’t think wanted you anymore. In your experience, which was limited, an unplanned pregnancy when there were marital problems never resulted in a happy ending for the mother or wife. As this realization hit you, you felt the bile rise up fast in your throat. Your hands were shaking, and you were drowning in your own irrational fears and anxiety. Worst part, no matter what you did you couldn't calm yourself down.

Tears began to flow hard again from your eyes as you tried anything to stop the anxiety from swallowing you whole. You felt like you were suffocating, drowning in a pool of uneasiness. Your vision went fuzzy, your ears started to ring, and the whole world started to spin on its axis. You reached out and were fumbling around the room, trying to find something to grab onto to center yourself. As soon as you grabbed the garbage can your knees buckled and you collapsed. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you felt the bile rise up fast again in your throat. You grabbed the garbage can just in time as your body heaved the entire contents out of your stomach into the trash.

You were retching so hard into the garbage, shaking with panic as tears flowed down your face that you never heard the door open and a man approach you. Your anxiety was swallowing you whole and you said with a breathless plea to yourself, in-between vomiting sessions, that you were scared and couldn't do this anymore. Then like a miracle from heaven, you felt those familiar rough hands gently reach out and center you once again.

When Joel entered the room his heart sank at seeing you collapsed on the ground and retching into the garbage can. You were pleading for someone to help you, to make the pain and anxiety stop. You were drowning in your own anxiety and it broke his heart. No one hurts my babies, he thought, especially him.

Joel slowly walked up to you and gently reached out to gather your hair into his hands. After he pulled it back from your face he placed one of his hands gently on your tummy, while whispering “Shh, mama. Take a breath. Come on now, you’re okay. I'm right here and I ain’t leavin’. Shhh.” He continued to rub soothing circles on your belly, right where the little bump was. When you were finished emptying the contents of your stomach Joel grabbed a towel and gently wiped your mouth saying “well, I thought that wasn’t gonna happen for a while yet.”

“What?” you said, confused, feeling completely worn out by today’s events.

“Baby, you do a bad job at hiding it.” Joel said with a smirk on his lips.

“Joel, I don’t know what you’re-” and then it dawned on you, he heard you. He heard your admission in the car that you were pregnant. As soon as that realization hit you, Joel watched your eyes go wide as you started to shake your head violently back and forth. You stood up and immediately started backing away from him, eyes blown wide with anxiety and panic once again.

Joel slowly stood up and watched you as realization took hold of you of your earlier admission. “Baby, take a breath for me, ok?” he said, trying to calm the fear and panic that you had. As he slowly approached you he said “sugar you gotta slow your breathing down, come here, let me help you.” He slowly reached out to you so you could center yourself.

“No, no, no. You can't know, I can't do this alone. Please God, why is this happening to me?” you said out loud, not wanting the world to fall apart around you. You didn’t want this discussion now, not when you didn’t know what you could do. You didn’t want him to kick you out, to say that you disappointed him, that you were a disappointment. Joel never said those words to you, your father did when he found out that you were dating his best friend. And the way your father dealt with it was to kick you out of the house, after he berated you in front of Joel. You knew Joel wasn't your father, but in this moment your father’s voice and Joel’s voice blurred together in your head.

When you felt your back hit the wall you knew that your running was over. You had to face the man in front of you, whether or not you wanted to. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your chest, hanging your head low when the sob that you’ve been holding back all day finally broke free from your chest and swallowed you whole. Your knees buckled and you started to fall to the floor like a ton of bricks sobbing hysterically saying “I can't be homeless again. I can't do this abuse again.”

Joel wasn't trying to scare you, he just wanted to center you and stop you from spiraling out of control. But when he saw your knees buckle he said “shit” and moved fast to catch you. He then wrapped his big arms around you, and pulled you tight to his chest as you let out all of the anxiety and frustration of the last several weeks.

“Come on now little one, don’t cry” he said, calling you a nickname he hasn’t called you for a long time.

“I’m sorry Joel, I’m sorry” you kept saying, as you let out all of your pent up anxiety.

“No. Come on baby, don’t say that. You got nothin’ to be sorry for. Let's slow your breathing down, yeah? Alright little one, how ‘bout you breathe with me.” He said, speaking softly into your ear. You felt him slowly lower his hand to the small of your back, rubbing tiny circles on your skin, attempting to quiet your tears. You also started to match his breathing with long inhales and slow exhales.

After listening to him breathe and matching his breathing for a while he slowly lowered his hand to your belly and gently started stroking it. You then heard Joel whisper in your ear, “I love you baby, no matter what. I need you to know that I’ll never leave you, no matter what. Ok?”

When you didn’t respond he took a step back, bent down and looked you straight in the eyes. You nodded your head slightly, attempting a weak smile as you finally had calmed yourself down. He stared at you for a moment, assessing your features to see if you truly were done with your panic attack or if you still were in it. When he realized that you weren’t going into another one, he gently tucked you into his side and whispered “ok mama, how ‘bout we get you home so you can lay down and relax. You've had a tough day honey.”

After a few silent minutes of gathering your things together, eventually the two of you started to walk for the exit of the changing room. Before you exited the doorway you said “Joel um- I got something I wanna say.”

Joel stopped and looked down at you, gently nodding his head. This was it, the moment you were going to say that you were pregnant. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You started to panic and overthink things again. What happens if he’s mad at me and yells at me again? You were silently having an internal tug-o-war with yourself.

Inside Joel was frustrated with himself that you couldn’t be honest with him. He was silently scolding himself for creating this environment in which you didn’t feel 100% comfortable with talking with him. Something that he promised himself that he would change, starting right now. As he stood there and watched you play tug-o-war with your mind, he tried to give you the warm environment of being relaxed, yet his own stomach was churning and twisting itself into knots.

“Joel, uh-”

“Yes darlin’” he said, coaxing you gently to speak.

“I- uh. Shit.” you couldn’t do it, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t say the words ‘Joel I’m pregnant.’

Joel could see that you weren't ready, but he wanted to give you the reassurance that you needed. He reached his hand out and gently placed it on your belly, on top of the little bump and said “I know mama, it's scary. You can tell me in your own time when you feel comfortable, yeah? Just know that no matter what, I love you.”

He gently kissed the top of your head, and with a smile he ushered you out towards the front desk. He sent you out to the car to relax as he squared away the fees for you being sick. When he got back into the car he groaned for a moment at the feeling of his back tightening up again.

“I don’t get how ya women think this is relaxin’.” He said, looking over at the salon as he put the car in reverse. “My back feels like it’s in a million more knots now. Shit.”

With a small smirk you said “Joys of deep tissue massage honey.”

“Yeah well, I feel like I went 20 rounds with that damn massage table. It kicked my ass good and hard too. This relaxin’ stuff is hard work hon.” Joel said, slightly groaning while having another back spasm.

“No, I just think it means that you're an old grumpy man,” you said, nonchalantly.

Joel was stopped at the light, waiting for it to turn green. He glanced over at you, eyes wide at your statement of him being an old grumpy man. “S’not funny babe,” he grumbled.

“Well honey, it's the truth” you whispered, as you softly kissed his cheek. “At least we know this still works” you added, giving him a playful bite to his ear as you gently cupped your husband's crotch. You palmed him for a moment and felt him slowly enlarge at your words.

“Does that feel good baby?” You asked in a sultry tone, as you slowly stroked your husband's cock through his jeans.

“Ya already know it does,” he said, in a husky voice.

You gave him one more chaste kiss and a firm squeeze before you removed your hand. As you slowly turned your head to look out the window you felt your husband's hand on your thigh. He was rubbing small soothing circles there. It was his way of reassuring you that he cared and was still here for you. You lightly grabbed his hand and placed it firmly against your lower tummy, humming as he began to stroke your little bump there too. You couldn't verbalize it to him yet, but this was your silent way of reassuring him that you were in fact pregnant.

Joel melted into this touch, the feel of your little bump, of his baby growing inside of you. This small simple measure finally calmed his fears. He knew that you loved him and that he loved you. No matter what he was going to be there for you and help you through this. Even though he was 52, and you were 37, and having an unexpected pregnancy was never ideal. Joel loved you and this little baby more than anything. As he silently rubbed your tummy he thought to himself everything is gonna be alright. And I can't believe that I'm gonna be a dad again ❤️

-End Part 3 Prologue-

A/N: More will come in the future with these two (proper chapters) as we take them through their pregnancy journey together. If you're interested in reading their origin story, make sure to check out the other series titled Love Never Fails coming out January 2024.

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3lazeit @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

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the-kr8tor · 4 months

Note

Ok so I figured out (I think) how to do a request.

Could you please do one where R and Hobie are being gf and bf, but Blob just wants R’s attention and when they see Hobie having all of it Blob is like “Move u ain’t her child 😒”

If you can write that my life would be filled with joy plis 😭🩷🩷🩷🩷

I got you, lovely!! Hope u like it 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, Cat symbiote AU, Blob the Symbiote cat AU, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You and Hobie are doing your own thing, with the telly on, you rewatch your favourite series whilst you munch on chips, the sound of crunching gets Hobie's attention from his gadget. He's been tinkering on the dining table, brows knitted together in frustration.

Huffing, he calls it a day, fingers stiff and aching from pinching small mechanical parts. Hobie flicka his eyes on an unusually quiet Blob. The symbiote cat purrs on top of the fridge, twin tails swinging from side to side, sweeping the top door. Hobie guesses that Blob has discovered the warmth on top.

Taking the opportunity to finally cuddle you on the couch without the alien in the middle hissing at him. He makes his way towards you, socked feet padding on carpeted floors.

Without warning, he takes the cheesy bag from you, placing it on the coffee table.

You look up at him, mouth full of cheesy goodness, eyes questioning him. “bhat?”

Hobie lays his head on your lap, prompting you to lay your legs flat on the settee. He sighs into your stomach, nosing your shirt, hand splayed over your lower back, hand squished in between you and the couch. He doesn't seem to mind it though, with how his eyes are closed, furrowed brow smoothing out as you trace his spine with your knuckles.

His legs dangle off the arm rest, too tall for the three seater couch.

“Tough day?” You flick your eyes from the telly to his scrunched face.

He groans into your shirt in a reply, you feel the vibration from his throat, tickling you a bit.

“Can you at least get my crisps back before turning me into your pillow?” You fold yourself, to whisper right in his ear, knowing what it does to him.

With your lower back aching, he twists around to aim his webshooter at the snack, snatching it right from the table to his hand.

Hobie hands it to you before he goes back to his previous position.

“Spiderman has saved the day once again.” You announce it like an anchorman from the twenties.

“Dork.” He murmurs into your shirt, leaning slightly to look up at you. “Crisps me.” opening his mouth comedically, you giggle at the sight.

“You’re the dork, dork.” You feed him chips while you watch your show.

Instead of Hobie watching with you, he watches your expressions shift from smiling to a frown. He bets the show is entertaining but he's more interested in watching you laugh and pout at the telly.

You feed him another crisp, Hobie tilts his head when a black mass flashes on your side. In a quick movement that he couldn't even anticipate, Blob has flopped on top of Hobie's face, suffocating him in all his blobby symbiote self.

Hobie rapidly sits up, you dodge his oncoming face. Blob stays attached to his face. For a second you thought he's trying to bond with Hobie again but Blob hisses when Hobie tries to pry the alien off his face.

“Love, a bit of help?” He struggles, Blob's tentacle-like limbs stretch as Hobie moves him further away, but the little symbiote is stuck on him like glue.

You huff, thinking that Blob needs to be trained better at co-existing with Hobie. Scratching the one spot you know Blob can't resist, you coo at him even though you're currently annoyed at the alien. His milky white eyes close, limbs loosening their hold on Hobie's head.

Blob drops like a sack of potatoes on Hobie's lap, triumphantly making his way to your lap. He purrs, curling around himself happily.

“You little shit. I was there first!” Hobie puts his foot down. You stop him with a look, wordlessly telling him an ‘I've got this’. He lets you, crossing his arms on his chest like a kid who didn't get his candy.

You take Blob by his armpits, looking right at his big white eyes. “If you want to cuddle you gotta share. Do you understand, Blobius Cornelius Blobirington? You can't just suffocate Hobie—” he meows like he's arguing back. “Anyone for that matter, you can't just do that. Got it?”

Blob moves his head towards Hobie, glaring his alien eyes towards the man.

“Hey! Play nice.” You place Blob on your shoulder, he immediately splayes himself over, lounging. But you don't see his scowl thrown at Hobie. “See? Compromise. We don't fight for attention.”

“He's literally tryin' to kill me with his stare.” Hobie points at Blob. You crane your neck to look but you only see him happily sleep on your shoulder. “What a wanker.”

“Don’t rile him up. Come back here, the spot’s all yours.” Patting your lap, he crawls over to you still huffing and puffing at how Blob is spoiled.

You just want to watch your show in peace, hopefully they stay asleep until you finish the episode.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #spider punk #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you #blob the symbiote #cat symbiote #cw food mention #hobie fluff #fanfic

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ellethespaceunicorn · 8 months

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The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter One

Chapter One: Hide and Seek

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: After a curfew is set in place, you and your best friend sneak out past the town border for a drunken game of hide and seek. What could go wrong?

Warnings: drinking, peril, mention of blood

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“C’mon, girl. You need to get out of the house for more than just work and the coffee shop. Look, we’ll even stay in town. Just please don’t make me stay in and watch The Great British Bake Off again. Paul Hollywood’s eyes still haunt my dreams.” Your best friend drapes herself against the couch in a dramatic show of boredom.

“Liv, you’re the one that agreed to wine and TV. So, what? You wanna hit the bar now?” You guess, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Yuck. No way. I was thinking of something much more exciting. But you gotta agree to it before we go. That’s the deal.” She props her head up on her fists, while she lays on her stomach, letting her feet swing in the air back and forth. As innocent as she looks, you knew better.

But then again, you could always go for a little adventure.

And that is how you ended up in a clearing in Claw Creek Forest with Olivia, a heart full of optimism, and a six-pack of Jack Daniels Watermelon Punch. By the time you are halfway done with your second bottle, the sounds of the night are almost calming. Crickets are chirping, owls are hooting, and leaves are rustling in the light wind that tickles your neck.

You’re downing the rest of your drink and looking up into the sky when Liv suddenly stands up with a look that can only mean one thing. She’s got a terrible idea that she thinks is genius.

You decide to stop her before she even starts, “Girl, whatever idea just popped into your head after two wine coolers is not gonna be as brilliant as you think it is. Just say it so I can turn it down.” You twist off the top of your third bottle and look up at the defeated face of your best friend.

“Damn, way to try and spoil all the fun. I just wanted to have a chugging contest.” She sits down on the fallen log next to you and grabs the last bottle from the cardboard pack. She twists off the top and you nudge her with your elbow before winking at her.

You smile at each other before bringing your bottles to your lips. The rush of the bubbly drinks makes you both stop every few sips to breathe and burp a little. But in the end, you finish your bottle first and shoot up off the log to slam down your empty bottle.

The moment you are upright, the blood rushes to your head and you instantly feel ten times more drunk. A few seconds later, you feel like you even out and you can hear Liv’s laughing as she falls backward off the log and her drink goes flying. You crumple to the ground, laughing your ass off, until she pops up over the log with a small scowl on her face.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” She stands up and brushes off her pants before picking up her now empty bottle along with yours. Her little attitude is adorable, but you don’t dare say that. As she walks past you, she doesn’t look at you.

“Olivia, don’t be like that. Come on, girl. We’re having a good time! I don’t want it to end. Please?” You’re not too proud to beg, and she’s not the only one who can pout charmingly.

When she turns around, the first thing she does is look at your pout and scoff, “OK, fine. But I’m only staying if we play a game of hide and seek. It’s spooky season, after all. Well, technically, in my head it’s always spooky season, but you get it.”

“You wanna play hide and seek...in the woods...in the dead of night...drunk?” You hoped there was enough moonlight so that she could see the incredulous look on your face.

Wiggling her eyebrows, Liv bites her bottom lip and says, “All of those things together are so perfect. We’re drunk. It’s nighttime. Spoo-ooky woods all around. Come on, babe, the kid versions of us would be so proud to say we weren’t too scared to play hide and seek as adults with barely any wits about us.” As soon as she finishes speaking, the cutest little hiccup escapes her, and you can’t help but laugh and shake your head.

“Fine! But I’m hiding first. Count to 30 so my drunk ass can find a good spot around here. And don’t cheat, Liv!” You direct her to face a tree and cover her eyes so she cannot sneak a peek at where you are going. You also make her count loudly so that she can barely hear your footsteps crunching over the leaves.

Even drunk, you are surprised you can think of all that. You back up slowly, turning around to run in a full sprint in the opposite direction. When the tree cover blocks out the light of the moon, you slow down and pull out your phone to use the flashlight to light up your way.

You don’t know if you got very far in 30 seconds or if Liv just stopped counting, but you can’t hear her anymore. You turn off your flashlight so she can’t use that to find you. You tip-toe forward in case she has gotten closer to you. You find a tree with large roots above ground and decide to try and hide in the little alcove it is shaped into.

But something catches your eye. At first, you think someone is shining a flashlight or something a bit away from you. But flashlights don’t usually blink, do they? But if you can remember correctly, you’ve seen those glowing yellow eyes before.

And now they were slowly moving toward you. The glow of the moon illuminated dark fur covering pointed ears and a muzzle that only hid its teeth for a moment. As those fangs came into view, a billow of hot breath turned into a smoke cloud in the frigid night air. The sudden huff of the beast made you realize you weren’t moving. You were standing stock-still while an imposing wolf thought about making you into its dinner.

Turning on a dime, you begin to run further into the forest. Not looking where you were going, you didn’t see the pile of rocks in your path. Your right foot slips, and you fall face-first onto the unyielding ground. You grunt as your head connects with a sharp stone. Your head starts to swim as you try to lift yourself to continue running, another huff directly behind you scares you enough to flip over onto your back.

Ringing starts in your ears, and you suddenly feel light-headed. You start to hyperventilate as the wolf comes closer. As tunnel vision closes in, you think you hear it whine softly. The last thing you feel is a wet snout against your temple and then nothingness.

What was once the sensation of cold wetness is replaced by warmth as you start to regain consciousness. You reach a hand up to your forehead and feel a wet cloth being pressed against your temple. When your hand touches what is holding it there, your eyes shoot open, and you try and scuttle away.

A firm hand grips your shoulder, and you find it hard to move. Turning your head slowly, you first look at the hand that holds you down. Thick fingers clutch your joint tightly, and the connected veiny forearm is covered in a smattering of dark chocolate hair. Even under an old woolen sweater, you can see the outline of a sizable bicep. The broad chest breathing heavily under that sweater triggers the onset of hyperventilation until the hand that was holding your shoulder moves away.

When a warm palm touches your jaw, your eyes threaten to close. But when a thumb brushes your cheek, you finally lock eyes with...an angel?

You can’t tell if the dimly lit room you are in is fuzzy or if you have a concussion. But if you were a betting person, your money would be on head trauma. Because there was no way he positioned himself in front of a light to have a slight glow about him. Maybe that just works like that?

Deep cocoa brown curls are about ear-length on his head, but a few unruly strands are hanging above his slightly raised brow. Concerned aquamarine eyes with a touch of brown in the left iris aren’t enough to hide the growing bags under them. A strong nose sits in the center of his face. And a small, yet inviting, mouth is outlined by a dark beard speckled with a few greys here and there.

“...best you lie back down.” The stranger speaks and you only catch the last bit of it because you were looking at his pretty face.

“I...,” You start, your hoarse voice causing you to clear your throat, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, it’s probably best you lie back down. You’ve got quite a lump on your head. If I hadn’t found you when I did, who knows what could have happened?” With one hand grabbing for the warm compress, his other hand guides you back down to lay your head on a soft pillow.

“Found me? Was there a wolf near me? He was huge and he chased after me and then I slipped and hit my head. And where am I? Where are we right now? Who are you? I need to get back to my friend.” Your words exit your mouth hastily as if you are in a rush to get the hell out of...wherever this is.

“Try and stay calm. Yes, I found you not far from the trail. I didn’t see a wolf anywhere, though,” He pauses quickly, but picks right back up where he left off, “Ehm, my name is Walter. Walter Marshall. We’re in my cabin, just outside of Claw Creek. I didn’t see your friend anywhere but, as soon as this swelling goes down a bit, I can take you into town.” Walter speaks clearly and smoothly, his voice is dark yet pacifying, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t enjoy talking.

“I guess I should give you my name,” You rattle off your name, and Walter nods, “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, Walter. But considering the circumstances of our meeting, this could have gone a lot differently. Not the way I hoped to end the night.” You laugh, mostly to yourself.

“I should hope not. When I found you, you were still bleeding a bit. I was able to stitch you up and get you cleaned up. But I’d probably go and see a doctor first thing in the morning.” Walter suggests in a strong tone.

“Thank you, Walter. I hate to think what would’ve happened to me had you not shown up when you did.” Your bottom lip quivers as you think the worst.

“Hey. You’re stronger than you think. And the swelling has gone down some. Why don’t we get you back to town where you can get more rest?” Walter pats your shoulder and gets up from the chair he was sitting in.

Your eyes follow him as he moves about the cabin. You realize that you hadn’t looked around before, so focused on him previously. It’s a nice, cozy place. Full of warm, rich colors and various little knickknacks on shelves. It lacks a woman’s touch, so to speak, what with all the antlers and not enough candles to cover the smell of a man. However, it suits the man who lives here.

Grabbing a set of keys, Walter comes back to where you lay on the couch in the center of the room. He gently and slowly helps you up and off the soft furniture and guides you to his truck parked outside. He helps you into the passenger side, shutting the door when you’re seated, and walks around the front to get in the driver’s side. Turning the key in the ignition, the truck rumbles to life and you are on your way home.

You’re rubbing your hands together and shoving them into your coat pockets before Walter gets the hint to turn on the heat. It’s only a couple of minutes before it is warm enough to be comfortable.

The drive down the tree-lined road is mostly silent, save for the low music playing on the radio. Walter points out where he found you and you almost can’t believe you made it that far on foot when you reach the edge of town. But you were drunkenly competitive, so you had your eyes on the prize.

Once you make it to town, you pass a curfew checkpoint and Walter supplies the officer with a story about how you two lost track of time while out of town. You thank him for the cover and direct him to stop at Olivia’s house to make sure she got home safely. Of course, you told him it was your place, and that Liv was your roommate.

As handsome as he was, serial killers come in all shapes and sizes and no way were you giving this man your actual address. You’d apologize to Liv later.

Once he stopped outside of her house, you went to unbuckle yourself and thank Walter for all his help. Protocol for this type of situation eluded you, so when you went for the door handle, you weren’t expecting his voice to stop you.

“Do me a favor and be careful from now on. No more late-night drinking in the forest. It can be a dangerous place." His calm smile brings out the most adorable dimples and you resist the urge to poke them.

“I promise. Scout’s honor. No more drunk forest parties. Thank you again for everything.” You place your hand on his arm and squeeze before exiting the truck and waving as you walk up the pathway to Liv’s house.

The light on the porch turns on and your best friend rushes out and hugs you tightly, bringing you in from the cold as Walter drives off into the night. Once you are in the warmth of her home, she takes your coat and prepares you a cup of tea. She asks who brought you home and you tell her about your ordeal.

When she asked if he was cute, you shouldn’t have been surprised but you still giggled bashfully. She also playfully swats you when you mention that you didn’t get his number. But that’s fine because at least you have his name.

Once she deems you safe enough to be on your own, she drives you the few streets over to your home and has you promise to call her in the morning. You take off your boots at the door, remove your coat, and start to sling it over the back of one of your dining room chairs. As you look closer at your coat, you make a note to take it to the cleaners tomorrow.

You survey the coat for any damage to the fabric and thankfully it just looks a bit dirty. You begin to wipe it with your hand and notice that it’s not all dirt on the coat. You can’t be sure, but if you had to guess what was on the sleeve and collar of the coat, you would say it was dog hair.

Coarse, short dark-colored hairs that when you hold them under a lamp look to be an inky brown. You try and stop yourself from jumping to conclusions, but it is almost impossible not to do that very thing. If these truly were what you thought they were, that means that you didn’t hallucinate that giant wolf. He was there with you, and he didn’t eat you.

You decided to get to the bottom of this. You’d schedule a check-up with your doctor in the morning. And after that, you would go back into the woods.

In search of the wolf? Possibly. In search of the truth? Definitely.

There was only one place to start. At Walter Marshall’s front door.

To be continued...

A/N: Walter is finally in the story!! Yay. I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

**Tag List**

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @milknhonies @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @cardierreh15 @viking-raider @imaslutforcuddles @ilovetaquitosmmmm @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell @calwitch @meanlilbean @samahenoyrhye

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

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vampzxi · 1 year

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𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

preview: she hums as she pulls away, leaving a spit trail connected to her lips and your nipple. her mouth travels to your neck, and she nips at it, adding to the collection of purple marks that already stain your brown skin. her hands cup your tits as she kisses behind your ear, “fuck, you’re so perfect, y/n,” her breath tickles your ear, and you shiver, smiling at the sound of your name. “i need you to go in the room and lay down, pretty girl. can you do that for me?”

a/n: THANK FUCK this fic is finally finished it was kicking my ass so bad. very sorry for the wait, i had a bunch of shit going on at home and with my mental in general( a nigga was struggling☠️). i'm a little better now, but i'll probably be extending my break until a little after the 15th (a nigga is graduating!! :P). also this fic did not turn out the way i thought it was going to...who wrote this ? like hello ? also this is kinda unedited. if you see anything wonky, shh. i love u guyth. saur much. ok sorry for the long ass author's note, nobody reading allat.

word count: 7k+ (fics getting longer and longer..)

tags: LOTS of teasing, like i was pissing myself off writing this…riri plays too much, fingering, (semi) public sex, masturbation, voyeurism, phone sex?, dom!riri, sub!reader, slightly bratty!reader, avenger!riri, (slightly) cocky!riri, overstimulation, pussy eating, (slight) ropebunny!riri, crying, dacryphilia (listen…), face sitting (riri receiving), strap slanger!riri, degradation, humiliation, praise, video taping, there’s a plot if you squint, riri’s chain makes me hard, hair pulling, (slight) slapping, riri being a big softie at the end, umm probably more that i forgot. whoopsi!

dts!: @heejayy , @abenomeiiii , @playhousedistee , @cafehyunji , @amplifiedmoan @zayswriting , @vixentheplanet , @inmyheadimobsessed , @quintessencewrites , @marsolgy , @verachii , @saintwrld , @motheroffae , @dejaonline , @dominiquesheart , @izrinmabel1 , @mocha-aya , @shuriszn @yamsthoughts : i love you guys and every single interaction i have with you. u guys make me kick my feet so bad like...pls take care of yourselves. special dt to eden for giving me the idea to put raveena in here..love u fr.

taglist!: @because-were-pointless-ghosts , @yourfavdummy , @ihearttish , @biltongbite , @vspletitia3 , @sookiesookie , @letitiaslabyrinth , @iotusroses , @ppawmpkin , @prettymrswright , @somethingcleaverandwhitty , @icespiceluva , @sapphicvqmpires , @puppykitt , @pinkwright divider by: @firefly-graphics (lmk if i forgot anyone! taglist request form is here!)

ok ENUFF w that... here you guys go! enjoy ;P

“no goodbye kiss?” riri pretends to pout at you.

“you can kiss my ass on the way out,” you grumble, slamming the door, “get the fuck out my car.”

you walk over to the trunk and grab her luggage as she steps out of your car. “baby, what i do?” she yells over the airplane taking off.

you scoff, rolling your eyes, “you kept teasing me on the way here. you know ion like that shit,” you say, handing over her luggage.

she smiles and reaches out, "aw baby, don’t be like that. it’s so easy to get you worked up, it’s cute. come here.”

you roll your eyes again and embrace her tight, letting her firm arms squeeze your torso, “i’m tired of your ass.”

she presses a quick kiss on your forehead, “i love you too,” she rests her head on yours, “it’s only for a weekend.”

you groan, “i’m sure the Avengers will be fine without ironheart.”

“and i’m sure you’ll be aight without riri,” she pulls away and looks at you smirking, “you miss me already, huh?” you gasp as riri pushes you against the car, her playful eyes lingering on your lips.

“ri, don’t start-” she presses her mouth against yours, and a quick moan slips from you. you feel riri grin against you as she hears you, deepening the kiss. as her tongue slithers into your mouth, chills travel down your spine despite the humid air. the knot in your stomach tightens.

she lightly bites your bottom lip as she slowly breaks the kiss, her eyes never leaving yours, “riri…” you sigh, her lips traveling to your neck.

“‘sup, ma?” she nips at your neck, sucking the dark skin hard enough to leave a mark. the pet name makes your knees buckle as you lean against the car. riri’s calloused hands slide up your shirt and rub your sides as you gasp lightly.

“there’s people…,” you tuck a moan into your lip as she bites at your collarbone, “you’re gonna miss your flight-fuck,” she slips her hand down your waistband, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“i embarrass you, ma?” she inquires, her voice muffled by the skin in her mouth as she presses her teeth into it. your entire body heats up as she looks at you, expectant.

“no..i just-riri!” your words die in your throat with a whimper as she pushes her fingers against your damp panties, laughing at how you squirm under her.

“she’s so wet for me, haven’t even touched her yet,” she runs her finger up your slit as you hold back a moan, “she’s begging me to taste her, yeah? what you think, mama?”

you nod quickly as she continues to rub you through your underwear, whining every time her finger passes over your clit. “really? i can’t tell, she aint loud enough for me.”

“riri please…” you make eye contact with a man struggling with his luggage, and you quickly divert your attention, your face turning hot.

“i should eat her right in front of the airport,” riri uses her free hand to caress your cheek, and you lean into it as she applies more pressure to your clit, “let everyone know who she belongs to. let everyone know how needy she is. she’d like that, huh?”

“fuck, riri,” you moan. you’re grateful for the sound of airplanes passing overhead, because if not for them, surely the entire parking lot would have known riri’s name. “i don’t care, baby, please. i’ll make a big mess for you right here and let you do whatever you want. just..please, riri. i need you.” the band in your stomach tightens as you listen to her giggle.

“louder, baby.”

“FUCK, RIRI, PLEASE,” you grind on her fingers as they move along your underwear, ignoring the curious glances of passerbys.

she kisses you tenderly, making you melt under her lips. “hmm..what i tell you?” she murmurs into your mouth, “too damn easy.” she slides her hand out of your pants and pops her fingers into her mouth, swirling them around. “make sure you pick me up at 6 on monday, aight, ma?” the sight makes your pussy throb, but you just scoff as you watch, frustration overtaking your arousal.

“nah,” you push yourself off the car, fuming, “you got legs, nigga. you can walk.” she opens her mouth but you cut her off, pushing your finger into her chest, “matter of fact, use that fucking suit you always messing with. figure it out.”

your jabs do nothing but amuse her as she watches you climb back into the car. “so…no goodbye kiss?”

you shut the door and roll the window down, glaring at riri. truth was, you really did want to kiss her. but your frustration barred you from even thinking about it. “text me when your plane lands.”

“yes ma’am,” she sighs. she kisses her two fingers and places them against your temple. you watch her walk away with her luggage and so desperately want her to turn around. to turn around and yell “fuck the Avengers!!” and hop back into the passenger seat and kiss you until the windows fog. but she doesn’t. you sigh and shove the keys into the ignition and turn your music to 100, pulling out of the parking lot.

you open the door to your shared apartment, cringing at the silence. normally, ri would have her tunes playing, usually switching between Tyler, the Creator, Kehlani, Chief Keef, or Lauryn Hill. her inconsistent music taste always made your head spin, but now you yearn for it. if it wasn’t music, then she was sprawled on the bed, begging you to play just “one match” against her in Mortal Kombat or Smash Bros., knowing she would whoop your ass. you always gave in anyways, just to see the satisfaction on her face.

you drag yourself into your room and plop into bed, opening your phone. you haven’t checked it since you left the airport, too frustrated to even peek. you scroll through riri’s texts, your guilt building with every missed message you read.

you shoot her a quick “made it home, love you too,” and throw your phone into your pillows, groaning. she’s been edging you all day, building you up just to stop you from finishing. when you asked her why, she simply giggled and said, “to give you something to look forward to when i come back.” oh she pisses you off.

your mind wanders back to the airport. riri’s voice bounces around in your head, “it’s so easy to get you worked up,” and irritation builds in your gut. you think about the way her hands fit perfectly around your ass as she gripped it, her dull nails digging into your soft skin. you think about the way her fingers curled in you as you surrendered to her touch. you replay the moment in your mind, biting your lip. you embrace the familiar tug in your stomach, recalling the way riri’s fingers grazed you. your face turns hot as you clench your thighs together, breathing heavily.

you peel your jeans off and toss them in the corner. your hand slithers down to your wet front and you sigh as your clit finally gets the pressure it’s been waiting so patiently for. your fingers trace your slit through your wet underwear, your pussy begging for the release riri’s been denying you. her laugh echoes in the back of your mind as you push your panties aside, your arousal sticking to the fabric. you smirk, recalling how her breathing faltered when you would whine in her ear, the sound of your voice spurring her on.

you grab your phone and go back to riri’s messages, your fingers pressing the voice memo option before you can even think about it. as your phone starts recording, you slip your middle and ring fingers inside of you, moaning at how easily they slide in. you close your eyes and think back to riri, the thought of her listening to your moans sending shivers down your spine. you feel yourself getting wetter as you imagine riri's rough hands and tongue exploring every inch of you, imagining her whispers trailing up your spine, her mouth leaving marks on your neck. you drag your fingers in and out, the messy noises of your cunt filling the room. “fuck,” you groan into your mic as you curl your fingers into your g-spot. your hips buck under your hand as you pump them inside of you, dropping the phone on your chest. your other hand travels to your clit, pressing your fingers against the swollen bud. your back arches from the pressure, and another quick moan is stolen from your lips. you feel your body getting warmer as you get louder, giving in to the pleasure that's building up inside of you.

“riri…i’m so close,” you slip another finger in, whining as you speed up. you trace circles into your clit as groans tumble out of your mouth, rising in octaves. tears blur your vision as you near your edge, forcing yourself to go further. your gasps become shorter and quicker as you push yourself to your orgasm, “fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum! i’m cumming,” your head swims as your walls clench around your fingers, whining.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you release onto your fingers, the white liquid gushing onto your sheets. you slide your fingers out as your chest heaves. you bite your lip as you press send on the audio message, smirking. you don’t know when she’ll listen to it, but you know the thought of you touching yourself when she isn’t here will send her into hysterics. and you giggle at the thought.

you pick up your phone again and open the camera, flipping it so your face fills the frame. you look crazed, with your curls sticking to your forehead and your brown eyes dilated. you smile and press record, dragging your fingers into your dripping cunt again. you moan at the sensation, your jaw hanging open as you push your digits into your overstimulated pussy. you stare into the camera and bring your wet fingers to your mouth, wrapping your tongue around them. you lick your cum off of your fingers, grinning into your phone, “was that loud enough for you, mama?” you suck your fingers and swallow the last of it, winking into the camera. you stop the video and press send, watching until it says delivered.

you toss your phone onto the bed and step into the bathroom to clean yourself up. after a quick shower, you throw on one of riri’s shirts and step out and pick up your phone again, checking your messages. your stomach twists as you see 3 dots in the corner of your screen, indicating that riri was typing. you hop onto the bed again, grinning hard enough to make your face ache. your head spins as you anticipate her response. you can’t contain the giggles spilling out of you as you imagine her reaction to the attachments, but that smile quickly drops when the dots fade away. you blink at your screen, waiting for them to reappear. after 5 minutes of nothing, you groan and shut your phone off, burying your face into your hands.

irritation creeps up your spine as you stare at your phone. was she really icing you out? whatever. you didn’t care. or she was probably busy at work, actively saving people, instead of listening to her girlfriend fuck herself. duty calls or whatever. your mind races through explanations so fast that your head starts to hurt.

you sigh and stretch across your bed, sleep creeping its way behind your eyelids. your finger hovers over the call button, contemplating. her contact image smiles back at you, squeezing your heart a bit as you remember her in her first ironheart suit, where she was too excited to even sit still. you took the picture before she successfully completed her first test flight, her eagerness evident on her face.

you sigh and decide against calling her, figuring she was busy. thinking it’ll be better to wait til the morning. surely she was too preoccupied to even pick up. you roll over, burying your face into riri’s pillow, letting her scent trace the inside of your nose. you inhale the cocoa butter smell, letting it lull you to sleep.

bang!

you shoot up, sleep clouding your mind as you rub your eyes. you fumble for your phone and wince when the light hits your eyes. 3:17am. “hello?” you call out into the darkness, fidgeting with your hair. silence answers you, making you bite your lip. you slide out of bed and tiptoe to your closet, grabbing the vibranium gauntlet that riri somehow managed to swipe from shuri. you laughed at her when she told you to keep it, but now you’re silently thanking her as you creep into the living room. you slip the gauntlet onto your wrist, holding it out in front of you as you feel the faint hum of the vibranium travel up your arm.

you notice the door hanging ajar, and you stiffen, gripping the glove tighter. “i…i have a weapon!” you squeak out, heart racing, “wakandan, too! you don’t wanna fuck with me!”

a soft chuckle emanates from the couch, and you whip your head around, using the soft blue glow of the gauntlet to guide you. you point it to the figure shrouded in darkness that was sitting comfortably on your couch. “last warning,” you keep your distance from the figure, but you know the power of the gauntlet will reach them in seconds.

“babygirl, put that shit down before you hurt yourself,” her voice makes your blood run cold, but you also basked in the relief she bought, “you know you clumsy.”

“shit, riri what the fuck?” you turn off the gauntlet and throw your hands into the air, “i thought i was bout to end up on a fucking true crime podcast. what the hell are you doing here?”

“uh, i live here?” you roll your eyes as you reach for the light switch, flipping it on. the sight of her manspreading on your couch made your knees weaker. her red hoodie and matching sweatpants did nothing to help. “i figured i’d swing by ‘cause you missed me so much.”

you laugh, taking the glove off and setting it on the kitchen counter, “sure. what happened to being an Avenger? don’t you have babies to save, or whatever they do?”

she sighs and stands up, taking two swift steps to you. her R-chain glints in your eye as she stares down at you, smirking, “i’m sure the Avengers will be fine without ironheart,” you smile as she shoots your words back at you, “you’re so damn needy, couldn’t leave you alone for long.”

she reaches out and wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you towards her. your cheek rests against her shoulder as you murmur, “i’m not needy.”

“you ain’t?” she reaches into her pocket, pulling her phone out, “you sure?”

you scoff and nod, “yo ass just wanted an excuse to come see me,” you pull away, “hold on, how’d you even get here?”

riri opens her phone, scrolling, “flew in that fucking suit you were talking about earlier…here it is,” she looks at you, her face unreadable, “ain’t this yo needy ass?”

you stare at her, puzzled, until the sounds reach your ears. amidst the panic of thinking there was an intruder in your home, you completely forgot what you had sent to riri. it all comes crashing back to you as your sultry moans emit from her phone, making your face hot. the noises of you playing with your wet cunt filled the room, your heavy breathing getting louder with each push of your fingers. “riri…i’m so close..” you hang your head, but riri grips your neck, forcing you to look at her.

“you was so vocal earlier…what happened, ma?” she turns up the volume, letting your voice echo through the living room. the splashing noises of you fucking yourself grow louder, along with your whines, as your gasps come through the mic. you press your thighs together, attempting to hide the arousal sliding down them.

the sounds end as you finish, and she shoves her phone back into her pocket, never breaking eye contact with you. her eyes boring into yours made you shiver, a smile playing on her plump lips. her hand tightens around your throat, and a moan slips from your mouth, “there it is.” her hand travels down to your underwear, prodding your clothed slit, “she’s so wet and i aint even touch her.”

your legs buckle as riri pushes against your clit, amusing herself with the way you lean into her. “fuck, ri,” you widen the gap in your legs, giving more access to your leaking cunt.

“hm?” she pulls her hand away, “what you want, ma?”

you’re too pent-up to put up a fight. you sigh into her shoulder, mumbling, “i want you, ri.”

riri’s hand returns to your underwear as she prods at your bud once more, making you whine into her ear. her jaw clenches as your whimpers fill her head, wanting nothing more than to see you crying under her as she sluts you out. but you had to earn it.

“use your words, mama,” riri moves your panties aside, sliding a singular digit into you with ease. your grip on her arm tightens as she slowly pumps her finger in and out of you, her brown eyes staring into yours.

“shit,” you tremble under her, “riri no more teasing, please. i need you to make me feel good. put me in my place. make me your bitch-i’ll take anything you give me, baby,” you throw your head back as she slips another finger in, her slow pace making your mind foggy, “fuck me, riri.”

“you gon’ be a good girl and make a mess for me, baby?” she quickens her pace, making it hard for you to keep your balance, “you gon’ let me tear this pussy up?”

you frantically nod, listening to riri play with your arousal. her eyes light up at the sight of her fingers disappearing into you, entranced by the sounds of your squelching pussy. “i’m your good girl, ri. i’ll do anything you tell me.” your walls clench around her fingers, eliciting a low groan from the back of her throat. the sound makes you quiver, hungry for more.

riri’s boxers are beyond damp as she listens to you. “so messy for me,” she kisses your head as she pulls her fingers out and you gasp at the absence of her digits inside you, “do me a favor, baby, and i promise i’ll give you what you want.”

you whine as she steps away from you and you stumble slightly, “you promise?”

“yeah, baby, i promise,” you smile as she cups your face and kisses you gently, her breath tickling your upper lip. your tongue runs across her bottom lip and she grins against you. riri speaks in between kisses,“i need these,” she tugs at your underwear, “gone. and this?” she pulls at the shirt hanging from your body, “never wanna see it again.”

you giggle, rocking on your heels, “but this is your shirt.”

“i’ll be ight. it looks better on the floor anyways,” she watches as you slowly pull the shirt over your head, her eyes fixed on your erect nipples. she resists the urge to step forward and squeeze and lick at the brown buds, but she reminds herself to wait.

you toss the shirt onto the floor, and your panties are next. the fabric is borderline glued to your wet cunt as you peel them off and toss them in the same corner as your shirt. you look back at riri, curling into yourself as she stares at you. it’s been around a year since y’all got together, but her gaze still makes you nervous. you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly self-conscious.

“nah, baby, let me see you,” riri steps forward and moves your arms to your sides. her eyes fall to your chest again, and your breath falters as she reaches forward and envelops your nipple in her warm mouth. she groans under you as her other hand reaches up to fondle your other boob. you bite back a moan as you grip her braids, watching the way she kisses your chest.

“oooh! shit, ri,” she smirks as she bites on your nipple, making you wince. her wet tongue rubs over it, chasing away the sting she left.

she hums as she pulls away, leaving a spit trail connected to her lips and your nipple. her mouth travels to your neck, and she nips at it, adding to the collection of purple marks that already stain your brown skin. her hands cup your tits as she kisses behind your ear, “fuck, you’re so perfect, y/n,” her breath tickles your ear, and you shiver, smiling at the sound of your name. “i need you to go in the room and lay down, pretty girl. can you do that for me?”

“fuck you, ri” you gasp as you throw your head back and clench your thighs, the incessant buzzing between your legs driving you to tears.

as soon as ri stepped into the room, wearing nothing but her boxers, her R-chain, and a shit-eating grin, you knew she wasn’t done teasing you. “i’m making you work for this shit, you think i flew all the way down here just to give in to yo needy ass?” she chuckled, “you got me fucked up. hands above your head.”

“say that shit again, ma. i might just consider letting you go,” she uses her vibrator to apply more pressure to your clit, making your back arch off the bed. your hands squirm against your restraints as you cry out.

riri’s eyes are glued to your bloodshot ones, grinning so hard, you’re wondering how her damn face doesn’t hurt. “ri..fuck,” you pant, your sweat-slicked chest heaving, “i can’t. i’m gonna cum-ah!”

riri uses her free hand to slip 3 fingers into your puffy pussy, pumping at a rapid pace, “you can. and you won’t,” your overstimulated cunt clenches around her as she circles your sensitive clit with the vibrator, “not until you apologize.” a whimper tumbles out of your mouth as you buck your sore hips.

your eyes roll as another jolt of pleasure courses through you, making your stomach tighten. you grit your teeth in frustration as she bites at your trembling thighs, the stinging bringing you closer to your edge, “i..fuck!” you crane your head down, making eye contact with the grinning girl as her fingers continue to pound into you, “haah..kiss my ass.”

you smile weakly to yourself as you watch irritation cross riri’s face, “aight, bet,” she laughs, slowing her pace. you smirk as she pulls her fingers out, praying she’ll finally end the assault on your clit. but your prayers go unanswered as she increases the speed of the vibrator, making you flinch.

your voice cracks as she slips her fingers back into you, this time adding an extra one. she moans at the sound of you, relishing the way you crumble under her, “yeah, you was so big and bad earlier. what happened?” she curls her fingers into your sweet spot, and you can feel your orgasm starting to leak onto riri’s fingers.

“i’m sorry!” you wail, spit forming in the corners of your mouth, “ri, baby, i’m sorry! please, please, let me cum. i can’t hold it anymore.” hot tears cloud your vision.

“huh?” riri’s digits twist inside you, making your back arch once more. you wish your hands were free so you could smush that stupid ass grin off her face, “ian hear you, baby.”

“i’m sorry! i’m so sorry,” you start to babble, rutting your hips against riri, “i won’t do it again. i’ll be good. i was being needy because i missed you!”

riri’s fingers slow as she looks at you, “who’s my bratty girl?”

“i am,” you huff, the buzzing of the toy slowly creeping through your entire body.

“who’s pussy is this?”

“it’s yours, ri!”

riri hums and removes her fingers and the vibrator, making you sigh in relief. her lips gravitate to your swollen bud like a magnet, kissing it softly. “good shit, baby. let it out for me,” her tongue dances between your folds, “flood my shit.”

“fuck, i’m cumming, ri!” you squirm against your restraints and moan as riri’s fingers dig into your thighs, stopping them from closing as she licks you up.

her tongue grazes your clit and you squirt on her without warning, fat tears rolling down your face as your orgasm splashes onto riri. she opens her mouth, not letting a single drop go to waste. your arms burn from the strain of them hanging pathetically over your head as you struggle against them, watching riri continue to suck on your overstimulated cunt. “ri, baby-shit. i came, i came!”

“yeah.” riri mumbles into you as she sticks her tongue into your entrance, slurping you up. she eats you like your pussy is a drug, never stopping to come up for air. your legs twitch uncontrollably as she moans into you, the vibrations going straight to your core. she reaches up and tweaks one of your nipples, making your eyes cross.

your safeword is resting just behind your lips, ready to tumble out of your mouth, when riri presses one final kiss against your entrance and pulls away. “such a pretty pussy,” she coos, eyes locked on the wet spot on the bed, “could eat her all day.” your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath, and your cunt throbs as you watch her suck the rest of your release from her fingers, her chain winking at you in the dim lighting as she sits up.

“let me go?” you mumble, head swimming. she finally looks back at you, taking in your blissed-out state. she smiles and kisses you deeply as you moan into her mouth.

“where you at, mama?” she looks down at you, concern swimming in her eyes, “just say the word, and i’ll run you a bath.”

while you would appreciate the warm water soothing the welts riri left behind, you also can’t get enough. you shake your head, “i..want more,” you look at her, a lazy smile playing on your lips, “wanna taste you,” you watch her bite her lip as she listens to you, “please, riri.”

riri rubs circles on your stomach, pecking your temple and humming, “you think you deserve it? have you been good?”

you nod quickly, “did so good for you…” she leans over you and reaches for the rope around your wrists, her low-hanging necklace brushing against your face.

as your arms are released, she gently takes your wrists and kisses them, alleviating the burn of your restraints. you sigh as you relax into riri, wrapping your arms around her. “thank you for being such a good girl baby,” she kisses you again, “you gonna let me sit on your pretty face?”

her words send shivers down your spine, and you whimper as you nod. “tell me how bad you want it,” she rubs her hands over your thighs, coaxing the plea out of you.

“please…riri. i wanna taste you so bad, i want you to smother me, i want your pretty pussy on my face. make a mess in my mouth and ruin me,” you babble desperately.

riri swallows a moan as she listens to you, trying to keep herself from becoming undone with just your words. “shit, ma. you got me so wet,” she admits, “you wanna see?”

she grins as you rapidly nod, giggling at your eagerness. her finger traces your belly button as she leans closer to your ear, her breath making your body quiver, “lay on your back for me, baby.”

“just sit down, ri,” you coo, her thighs straddling your face as her glistening pussy hovers above you, “please, mama.”

“say ahh for me,” riri’s voice barely registers to you, as you’re too focused on the line of arousal slowly trailing from her cunt, your breath catching in your chest as you suppress yet another needy whine. your attention snaps back to riri as she pops your thigh, the sting making you suck your teeth, “open your fucking mouth. you ain’t have a problem keeping it wide open earlier.”

“shut the hell up and sit down,” you mutter impatiently.

“i don’t know who the hell you think you talk-shit“ riri’s cut short by you as you push down on her waist, letting her drenched pussy fall into your mouth. an abrupt moan escapes her as your nose brushes her clit.

“shit, baby, right there,” riri throws her head back as you suck on her folds, savoring the way your tongue fits perfectly in her. she tastes better than anything you’ve ever eaten, like nectar to a bee. ambrosia to a goddess. she writhes above you as you lap her up, eyes rolling to the back of your head. your grip on her thighs tighten as her hips rock, letting her cunt slide across your face as she hums, “you like this, don’t you? needy slut.”

you dig your fingernails into riri’s thighs, leaving small, crescent-shaped marks as her insult sends a shudder down your spine. you look up at her, watching how her face contorts as your lips wrap around her swollen bud. her jaw hangs open as she continues to ride your face, her chain swinging with each rut of her hips.

“fuck, i’m bout to..” riri tries to bite back a whimper, but your ears catch it. you slide your tongue into her, drawing out a long moan from the prodigy on top of you. her thighs tremble as she grabs fistfuls of your curls, grinding her hot cunt further into your mouth.

“you gon let me flood your pretty face, baby?” riri smiles as you hum your confirmation, the vibration of your voice making her head spin, “let me cum in that dirty mouth, yeah?”

you look up at riri as you press sloppy kisses onto her pussy, relishing the way she bounces on your face. “fuck, baby. feels so good..shit!” her back arches as you gather her clit in your mouth once more, sucking on it, “im cumming! im-“

riri’s hands fly to her tits as she gropes them, riding her orgasm out on your face. you moan as you watch, maintaining eye contact with her as she creams in your mouth, the thick liquid coating your throat. her legs twitch as you continue to lick her clean, your tongue traveling over her folds. “aight, baby, i’m done, i’m done, fuck!” she cries out as you release your grip on her thighs.

riri lifts off of you and plops onto the bed, chest heaving, “how i taste, ma?”

you roll over and press a long kiss onto riri’s lips, hands trailing down her body. she moans into your mouth, wrapping her arms around you to pull you closer. her tongue slips into your past your lips, swirling around your mouth. you push your hips into her, your throbbing clit brushing against her leg.

riri grins against your mouth before rolling on top of you and bringing her knee up to your cunt, “you want me to keep going?” she laughs as you nod vigorously, “needy ass.”

she slides off the bed and walks into the shared closet, disappearing for a bit. you sit up as you watch her walk back to the bed with her most prized possession.

“where’d you get that one from, ri?” you watch as she steps into the harness of her strap, staring curiously at the purple-veined appendage.

“don’t worry bout it,” riri fastens the strap to her and looks up at you, mischief dancing in her eyes, “hand me my phone.”

you knit your brows in confusion as you reach for her long forgotten hoodie and fish out her phone from the pocket. you toss it to her, “for what?”

“you’ll see,” she smirks at you, “you already know what position i like you in. bend over.”

your eyes screw shut as riri aligns the strap with your hole, the tip brushing against your overstimulated clit.

“ri…please,” you mumble, squirming against the rope tied across your wrists once more. she uses one hand to dig her nails into your hip while she uses the other to stroke the tip between your folds.

“please what, baby?” riri coos, her voice dripping with disdain, “ask the camera. you had no problem doing it earlier.”

you shut your eyes tighter, mortification burning through your cheeks. riri had propped her phone up on the pillows in front of you after tying your hands behind you, letting them sit snugly on your lower back.

your eyes shoot open as riri’s hand slams down on your ass and you wince from the impact. “i know you heard me,” she grabs a handful of your curls and tugs at them, forcing you to stare straight at yourself in her phone camera, taking in your pathetic state. eyes puffy, tears staining your cheeks, your messy hair sticking up in various directions. riri takes pride in knowing she’s the cause of your current state.

her cold chain drags against your burning back as she leans over to whisper in your ear, “don’t act brand new. tell them how bad you want me to fuck your pretty brains out.”

panic seizes your chest as you crane your head away from the camera to look at riri, “‘them’? you’re gonna show this to people? what the fuck, ri?” you splutter.

“nah, i bet you would like that though, huh?” she chuckles, “wanna show everyone how much of a needy whore you are? want them to see how pretty you look when i fill you up?”

she turns your head back to her phone as you whine, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach. “ri…”

your whimper makes her laugh, “speak up, babygirl.”

the way your nickname rolls off her tongue pushes you to the edge, “SHIT, ri. just fuck me, please. i want you inside me, fuck me stupid. i wanna feel y-“

your words die at your lips as riri rams into you, the tip of the strap brushing against your cervix. “you talk too much,” riri mutters as you cry out. you can’t form a coherent response as she continues to thrust into you at rapid speeds, her groans making you clench around the faux dick buried in you. “she’s so fucking tight for me..god.”

“you..you can feel me?” you struggle against your restraints and wince as the rope digs into your skin.

“yeah…was working on it before…fuck, mama keep squeezing my shit just like that!” riri gasps as she digs into your g-spot.

“YES, riri, right there,” you watch your body in the camera, shaking from the impact of her thrusts, “i can’t…hold it” tears swim in your vision, and you fight against them, “please let me cum..oh fuck!” you choke out a sob as her hand slithers to your neck and her fingers tighten around your throat.

“hold that shit,” ri’s says through gritted teeth as her pace becomes sloppy. your pulsating cunt continues to constrict around her, causing her to emit a low groan, “you look so pretty when you’re full of dick.” the corner of her mouth quirks up into a smirk as she listens to your whimpers, “now tell the camera how good i feel.”

“please, ri,” you whine. she tightens her grip around your throat as a warning, and you involuntarily moan. “shit, riri fucks me so good. she makes my pussy feel so good!”

“yeah, good shit, baby.” riri’s hips kiss yours as she continues to slam into you, her dick burying into your core. you feel your orgasm approaching, the familiar tug in your stomach becoming stronger with each push into your puffy pussy. riri bites her bottom lip as your walls tighten around her, making her eyes roll to the ceiling, “can i fill this you up, mama? you gon let me cum in this pretty pussy?”

riri knocks into your g-spot and you finally let your tears fall as you moan, “YES, riri. please fill me up. flood my shit, baby!” your voice cracks as you yell, desperately wanting to break free of the rope binding your wrists.

“oh my god..are you fucking crying?” riri looks at your wet cheeks and scrunched face as she pumps into you. she removes her hand from your neck and grips your curls, turning your tear-soaked face around to look at her. she leans forward and presses her tongue flat against your cheek, letting the salty fluid settle on her tastebuds as she moans. “you see how lame you look? you’re so goddamn needy,” she smirks, dragging her tongue across your cheek, “i knew i couldn’t leave you alone for long.”

“ri…i’m so close-please,” you blubber, “been so good..for you.”

riri resumes her rapid pace and you chomp down on your bottom lip. “yeah? who’s the only one that makes you feel this good?”

“you, riri, only you!” your eyes cross as her palm smacks your ass, with riri fascinated by the way it jiggles.

“who’s pussy is this?” riri’s chest heaves, her pounding becoming erratic. her orgasm is quickly approaching, but she wants to watch you become undone first.

you scream in response, your back arching as you squirt onto riri. your release splashes on her as you moan, throwing your head into the sheets. “shit, baby, im..fuck, i’m about to cum!” riri groans, digging her fingernails into your hips, “ke-keep squeezing me like that. wanna feel your pretty pussy.”

“fill me up, ma,” you plead, throwing your ass back on the Avenger, “please, baby! wanna feel yo-”

“shut up!” riri says with a snarl as she shoves her fingers in your mouth, making you clench as she gags you. riri moans, throwing her head back as she drills her strap deeper into you, “fuck, baby. just like that! i’m…i’m bout to..”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as her seed shoots into your cunt, relishing the warmth that fills you. you bite down on her fingers and moan in sync with her, relaxing your body.

as she pulls out of you, her creamy release pours out of you, dripping onto the sheets. you collapse onto the bed, breathing heavily as your eyes flutter closed. riri chuckles and steps peels the strap off, tossing it into a forgotten corner of the room. she rubs small circles into your back and places her lips on yours, kissing you deeply. “you did so good for me, my beautiful girl,” you smile at the compliment, feeling her scatter sweet kisses across your face.

“can you walk, baby?” she asks softly, starting to untie the rope at your hands. you don’t even have the energy to talk, much less stand. riri understands your silence and let’s out a soft laugh, rubbing your wrists and easing the ache that your restraints left behind.

“i’m gonna run you a bath, then i’ll be right back,” you nod drowsily as she presses another kiss to your temple and walks to the bathroom, humming. you envy her endurance, the way she’s able to bounce back after leaving you strewn out across the bed. you turn your head, watching the muscles in riri’s back shift with each step. riri disappears into the bathroom and you let the sound of running water lull you to sleep.

“you never answered my question,” you say as riri plays in your wet curls as your back lays against her chest. you’re positioned between her legs in the tub, letting the smell of the floral bubble bath and the sound of Raveena’s Still Dreaming surround you as you lean into her touch.

“you ask a lot of questions, baby,” riri chuckles and slides her hands to your thighs and starts to rub them. you relax into her, relishing the sensation of her fingers kneading into your soft skin.

you roll your eyes as she massages your legs, “okay, yeah, but you never told me where you got that strap from,” you huff, “like what was that?”

riri’s hands falter slightly at your question, but she catches herself and resumes rubbing your thighs. you pretend not to notice. “it, uh..” she sighs, “don’t laugh.”

“why would i laugh?” you scoff, turning your head to look at her.

“cause yo ass always giggling about something,” ri swats at you, and you smile, “don’t try and hold it back now. look at you, always ready to laugh at someone.”

“just answer the question, ri,” you say impatiently. riri sighs and moves her hands to your shoulders, gripping them firmly.

you sigh and melt into her touch as she rubs circles into your shoulders, “it’s just a project i’ve been working on for a minute,” riri’s hands glide down your back as she rubs your sides, “it started as a joke, but when i met you...i guess i actually had a reason to finish it.”

you bite back a giddy giggle as you turn around in riri’s lap, looking at her. she stares back at you, her eyes gleaming. your chest grows warm as you watch her smile, her perfect set of teeth on full display. “i told you not to laugh,” she pushes a curl from your head.

“i know, i’m sorry, baby,” you plant a kiss onto her forehead, “you’re just so fucking smart, like damn. how’d you even come up with that?”

riri’s eyes widen at the compliment as her grin grows wider. you know how self-critical she is towards herself, so watching her become undone with a simple compliment makes you melt. “thank you, mama,” she reaches up and grips your chin, her wet palm pulling you towards her lips. she kisses you fondly, relishing the way your arms wrap around her waist. the music and the smells fade around you as you get lost in riri’s touch, committing the way she tastes to your memory.

you shiver under her and riri breaks the kiss, leaving your lips cold. you pout at her and lean in for another one, missing her warmth. but she softly pushes you away, “the water’s getting cold, baby,” she smiles, “come on,” she motions for you to get out of her lap.

you climb out of the tub as she lets the water out, watching the bubbles disappear down the drain. you turn around, and riri startles you by wrapping you in a towel and throwing you over her shoulder. you shriek, swinging your feet and laughing, “ri!!”

laughing, she flips you onto the bed and kisses you, intertwining her fingers with yours. you giggle into her mouth and throw the blanket over your naked bodies.

riri groans as her phone starts to ring, breaking the kiss. “hold on, baby, i think that’s work.” you roll your eyes and huff as she reaches over to grab her phone, putting it on speaker. “yeah?”

“riri, where the hell have you been?” smooth xhosa comes from the other side of the line, “you left without saying anything…again.”

“hey, shuri,” riri runs her hands through her braids, “i uh…” she looks at you smirk, “family emergency?”

“i didn’t get this primitive device just for you to lie in my face,” shuri sighs, “hi, y/n.”

your eyes widen as riri rolls hers, “she ain’t even here, you trippin.”

“hi,” you say, giggling when riri scowls at you.

“right. anyways,” you can practically hear shuri’s eye-roll through the screen, “fury’s pissed and he has kamala and me out looking for you. i’ve been trying to cover for your ass but we need you. kamala’s getting annoying.”

“yeah. i’ll be there tomorrow,” riri ignores you when you swat at her arm, frowning, “tell fury i’m busy. ion even need to be there, for real, but aight.”

“yeah, okay,” shuri sighs, “he’s gonna chew you out for missing patrols again.”

“man, ion give a fuck,” riri laughs, “but i’ll hit you back later?”

“yeah. bye, riri. bye, y/n. don’t keep her up too late.” before you can object, shuri hangs up the phone.

“‘be back tomorrow?’” you cross your arms and pout, your frown growing deeper as riri laughs.

“baby, i’ll be back the night after,” riri scoots closer to you and spoons you, letting your hair tickle her nose, “and then no more trips for the rest of the year, unless it’s with you.”

“good.” you smile, relaxing into her arms.

“so fucking needy,” she whispers, laughing and kissing your cheek.

you both drift off to sleep together, with riri snoring softly. riri ended up oversleeping, causing her phone to constantly go off with calls from nick fury, shuri, and even kamala. both of you were oblivious, too busy snoozing in each other’s arms.

⭐️

my masterlist!

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