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vivwritescrappythings · 2 months

Text

Saying Thanks

Joel Miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

minors, fuck off

masterlist

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar. It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy grin gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hand away and tried to relax your jaw as your head descended far enough that your nose was pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smelled surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock caught, sliding in so slow that it made you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you took whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #joel tlou #I pictured show Joel but you can picture game Joel #they’re both hot #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction

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ellieslittlewh0re · 5 months

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ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly.

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

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ozarkthedog · 1 month

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃

summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.

pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k

author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.

huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours.

Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.

What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people.

When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help.

It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits.

Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.

An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet.

His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.

He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss.

“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked.

His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed.

The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.”

The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.

Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.

You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.

He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.

You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”

You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”

Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.

He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.

A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer.

“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.

“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.

He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”

You were truly and utterly fucked.

It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.

You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.

Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh.

“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.”

“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.” He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled.

Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.

Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.

You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.

“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.

Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”

You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands.

You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.

You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.

You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.

You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer.

He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."

The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.

“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”

You wanted to scream.

“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.

“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"

It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground.

“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”

You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.

“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.

You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.

“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.

Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”

“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.

“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.

You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.

Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.

“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.

Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”

You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men.

“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.

You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.

“For fucks sake,” the older man groans.

Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone.

Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”

The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.

“But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”

The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.

Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.”

His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too.

Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."

In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room.

“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt.

“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”

Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.

You forgot about the other man in the room.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out.

He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.

Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue.

His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.

Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you.

You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit.

“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”

Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive.

Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.

You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.

Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face.

Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously.

When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit.

Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.

You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.

Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.

It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.

A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips.

Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure.

"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.

Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you.

Both men curse at the sight and feel of you.

It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.

“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.

Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours.

You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.”

You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.

They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey.

Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath.

“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.”

Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure.

He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core.

You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.

“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.

"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.

"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain.

Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.

You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.

He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton.

"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.

"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete."

You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.

He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"

The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, defeated.

He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back."

You nod quickly under his grave stare.

He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you.

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl."

He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.

You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.

Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #pedro pascal #oscar isaac

679 notes · View notes

kettlefire · 11 months

Text

DP x DC Death Train edition

Bruce awoke with a start, eyes sweeping his surroundings to reveal a train. A train filled with three other members of the Justice league. All in civilian clothing.

Clark Kent. Barry Allen. Oliver Queen.

His first action was to attempt to wake the three heroes, all attempts failing miserably. Next order was try to figure out where they were and why.

The sight outside the windows was a deep, dark void. No light or shapes among the darkness. An ominious feeling grew stronger the longer he stared into the empty void.

He then worked to check the cargo holds above him. All of which were stuck shut and closed.

He quickly shifted his focus to the two doors on either side of the train cart. He had absolutely nothing on him that could be helpfully. Still dressed in the Pj pants and a shirt he had gone to bed in.

He moved to the one he thought might lead towards the front of the train. Giving a quick glance towards he's sleep comrades before making his choice.

The second cart was completely empty. The cargo hold was just as seal as the others.

He moved swiftly towards the next cart, softly cracking open the door and peering in.

This one wasn't empty.

Instead there stood a terrified man. Pale skin covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings. An impressive handle bar mustache paired with a bald head and leather jacket.

He wasn't the main focus though. Instead it was the shadow being that stood before him. The dark shape was humanoid, however it seemed to wisp and shift around the ends.

The being itself looked more ominous then terrifiying, but there seemed to be a recognition in the man's eyes.

"Please, please, I'm begging you! I'm sorry, if I had a choice I would never have done the things I did!"

The man's deep voice raised in octaves as the being took a step closer. He took a step back, pressing into the seat behind him.

Bruce barely refrain a flinch as a strange static noise left the being, seeming to echo in the empty air.

"No! No, that wasn't on me. You don't know the full story! Just hear me out, you'll understand, and-"

The man's pleas were cut short as the static sound filled the air again, this time louder. Sounding more hostile.

"No, she was asking for it! Please, look, I know what it looks like but-"

The being seemed to have enough of his pleas, pressing a dark, twisted hand onto the man's shoulder.

Bruce watched with wide eyes and baited breath as the man seemed to melt before his eyes. Screams filled the still area as the man's skin bubbled and dripped.

Starting at his legs and rising up with every second that passed. There was no flame. No reason for his skin to bubble and peel away from him.

In almost a blink an eye, the man was nothing more than a scorched puddle on the ground. Bruce quietly worked to move back into the prior cart, trying to close the small gap he made as quiet as possible.

The shadow being barely moved, but Bruce swore he felt eyes on him. It was looking straight at him. It knew he was there, there was no doubt in his mind.

Throwing caution to the wind, Bruce clicked the door closed and made a fast retreat back where he came.

Glancing over his shoulder to see nothing but the empty space. If that being wanted him dead, there was no doubt in his mind it wouldn't be hard to do.

Not in this state. Not when he had no clue what they were dealing with.

When he flung the door back to his original cart open, he almost ran straight into a sturdy chest.

Clark. He was awake. A quick glance around confirmed that everyone else was as well.

Bruce gave them a quick rundown of what he knew, shifting from Bruce Wayne billionaire to Bruce Wayne Justice League member.

After a brief debate on what to do, the team settled for moving the over way. The further from that thing they could get, the better their chances.

All hope relying on the being not being able to teleport between carts.

They catiously moved their way into the other carts. The others just as empty as the one he was in prior. Every cargo hold sealed shut, not even Superman's strength could pull them open.

Abilities didn't seem to work past the carts walls. Clark could only hear the heart beat of those around him, but nothing further passed the doors. X-ray vision was of no help, either.

It wasn't until their third cart that they ran into someone else. A shocked teenage boy staring back at them from the ground. Wide blue eyes and tossled black hair.

"You aren't supposed to be here." The teen mumbled, taking in the new crowd of four. "How-How did you get here?"

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loveshotzz · 1 year

Note

give the people what they want :

porn stache steve going down on us

Time to giddy up, yeah?

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ established relationship, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, mustache ride, dirty talk.

word count: 2.2k

authors note: just something fun, flirty and dirty provoked by cece, she is the anon in case anyone was wondering. @corrodedcherry @corrodedcorpses @bewilderedbunny

Steve’s normally clean shaven face had been covered in thick scruff for the past week, too tired from moving into your first place together to keep up appearances he’d let it go wild. The two of you had spent the last seven days covered in sweat and grime while you unpacked, organized and decorated the new space and then redecorated again when you decided you didn’t like it.

Dinner plans with the rest of the party and a hot shower is finally what brings him to the mirror in the bathroom with his razor and shaving cream in hand. Rubbing a circle big enough to see himself in the condensation that had built up on the glass he huffs at his appearance.

Covering the bottom half of his face in the light blue cream, he can’t help himself when he shaves his beard into a goatee — you know, just to see what it’d look like. Snorting when his hazel eyes meet his reflection in the mirror, he’s quick to get rid of the patch on his chin. Leaving long handle bars running down the sides of his mouth, his pink lips pull into a scowl.

Puffing up his chest he’d only admit it to himself that he thinks they make him look tough. Steve starts to feel like the master of disguise when the simple act of just shaving gets lost on him. Trimming up the sides his next act is the classic 70’s porn stache.

Raising an eyebrow while he runs his fingers over it he can’t stop the amused chuckle that bubbles from his chest. Tightening the towel that rested low on his hips, he couldn’t wait to see your reaction. Padding down the hall to the bedroom where he knew you were lounged out reading, just where he left you.

He stops in the doorway to admire the way the hem of the simple navy blue cotton of his shirt rides high on your thighs. Laying on your back with your feet pressed to the mattress, your bottom lip sits tucked between your teeth your brows knitting together as you focus hard on a certain part. The creak of the door gives away his intrusion but it’s him clearing his throat that catches your attention.

Wiggling his eyebrows his smile is wide enough to crack his face in half as he waits for your laugh but it never comes. Instead, your eyes glaze over as your breath hitches in in your throat when you take in his new appearance — legs snapping shut with a soft smack when your thighs meet.

It was supposed to be a joke, you were supposed to laugh — not look at him like that.

“You’ve gotta be kidding babe.” Steve’s laugh makes you hide deeper into your book, cheeks burning behind the pages your body giving you away to him like it always does. “This is doing it for you, this?”

He smirks when you start to reveal yourself to him when he stops at the edge of the bed by your feet. Slowly dragging the book down your face, the pages catch your pouty bottom lip pulling gently before it pops back into place just begging to get kissed.

Shrugging you try to be nonchalant but even you know it’s too late.

“What can I say? It works for you, Harrington.” Smirking up at him you make a show of openly taking in his barely covered form, you swallow thickly when you get to the damp patch of dark hair on his chest.

“Oh yeah?” His amusement is quickly replaced with the kind of smugness you only see when he’s inside you. Mischief in his darkened eyes, the bright forest inside them turns into night. “Wanna take a ride? You know what they say, ‘save a horse, ride your boyfriend's face’.”

Snapping your book closed with a breathy giggle and a soft “Steve” you quirk your brows when his fingers wrap easily around your ankle. Giving you a gentle tug your legs fall open for him to slot in between. His hands are quick to find a home on the tops of your thighs, squeezing gently at the soft fat before letting the pads of his fingers travel up pushing his shirt up with them.

“Are you gonna keep your Burt Reynolds stache for dinner tonight?” Flustered at what he was insinuating you try to deflect from the way the silly question makes you squirm, but when his lips pull up into a knowing grin you know your efforts are in vain.

“That depends, do you want me to?” Leaning down he starts trailing kisses where his fingers just were, nipping at the areas he knows will earn him a gasp before his tongue smooths over them loving the way you sigh after each one. His shirt sits rucked up right below the curve of your breasts, his thumb swiping against the bottom “Cause I think you do.”

He sucks at his teeth when he sees the wet patch darkening the simple black cotton of your panties. Looking up at you from under the hood of his lashes his fingers hook in the elastic at the top tugging at them you comply silently by lifting your hips. There’s a low hum of approval when he sees your glistening folds in the soft light from the lamp on the nightstand when he discards the offending fabric.

“I don’t know if I can have you walking around soaked like this baby, how would you make it through dinner?” Running two fingers through your slick he collects what he can before moving slow lazy circles over your already puffy clit tutting when your hips buck up in reaction “All this over a little mustache huh?”

Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you bite your moan back when he leaves your button to circle your entrance, only stretching you just enough to have you wiggle for more underneath him.

Your eagerness makes him quick to take his hand away, a breathy laugh escaping him when he sees the glare on your face. Crawling up your body he slots his knee between your spread legs, the towel parting enough to give you the delicious view of the hair covering his thighs before his face comes hovering over yours. His usual bright eyes are black as they consume you nudging his nose with yours. The fresh mint of his tooth paste still lingers on his breath as it fans hot across your parted lips.

“You never answered my first question, baby.” His pearly whites flash when his pink lips spread wide into a knowing grin that only adds to the growing pool between your legs.

Steve always made it a point to go down on you, sometimes not stopping till he’d collected two or three orgasms depending on his mood, but he’d never asked you to do this before.

Despite the years of being with him, the nerves that consumed you at the thought make you feel like it was your first time all over again. Words falling silent on your tongue all you do is nod before closing the distance, stealing the kiss that he’d been teasing you with since he walked through the door.

His lips move against yours almost instantly, one hand coming up to cup your face. The warmth of his palm against your cheek brings you closer to him when his thumb brushes gently against the soft skin below your closed lid.

Sighing into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your lower lip, he takes his opening without a second thought groaning when you meet his advances just as eager.

Steve kisses you with an edge you’d never felt before, stealing your breath until he leaves you panting when he pulls away. Rolling over onto his back his towel falls open revealing the extent of the effect you had on him too. Pink and slightly angry his tip was already topped with a translucent pearl of precum when it slaps against his stomach.

An unknown excitement crackles in the thick air, goosebumps dancing across your skin at trying something new. Licking his lips they shine when they twist up as he looks at you.

“Wanna get up here and show me just how much you like it?”

His smirk only grows when he sees the way you bashfully nod at his question.

“I need to hear your words, pretty girl.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trail down your jaw before his thumb presses gently against your chin. “It’s just me and you.”

It takes you a minute to find your voice again, drowning in the way he was drinking you in, he still looked at you like the first day you met.

“I - I wanna take you for a spin baby.” The sweetest giggle bubbles from your lips as your face breaks into a smile when your words earn you his surprised laugh.

“Time to giddy up, yeah?” Winking when you snort, his playfulness gives you the assurance that you need.

He’s nothing but praises and soft coos when you get situated with knees on either side of his face. Holding yourself above him just close enough to feel the tickle of his mustache on the inside of your thighs and the heat of his breath against your dripping lips. He tugs at the bottom of his shirt signaling for you to take it off before his hands get situated on the back of your thighs.

It’s his turn for his breath to catch when your pert nipples stand at attention once they hit the air conditioned air of your apartment.

“So fucking beautiful honey.” He says it like he means it, like you know he does. His eyes glazing over as he takes in your naked curves.

Lifting his head up he licks a tentative stipe up your slit relishing in the way it makes your legs shake. Nose nudging at your clit when he does it again, there's a low growl that rumbles from his chest before he pulls you down with no warning.

You gasp his name when his tongue flattens between your folds and the blunt ends of his finger nails dig into your flesh. The pointed end of his nose presses firm against your bundle of nerves while his tongue slowly starts to fuck in and out of you. Lapping you up like it’s the best thing that’s ever touched his taste buds, he gets greedy and starts to pull you even closer, taking all your weight before shaking his head from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ - Steve!” Your voice comes out high pitched, drawn out in a pathetic whine while your fingers find purchase tangling in his hair, your hips dare to meet the chaos of his tongue as you start to rock against his face.

He pulls back just enough to see the way his chin shines with your arousal, the honey color of his mustache glistening with your slick — the ends sticking together from getting so wet.

“Just like that, don’t hold back. I wanna feel you fall apart just like this. Give me what I want, baby. Please. You taste so fucking good.” He doesn’t even sound like your boyfriend he’s so pussy drunk, he pulls you back to him, groaning loud enough to vibrate through your core he starts working you with his tongue again.

The two of you find a steady rhythm as your hips move in time with the strokes of his tongue. The sound of your slick against his skin fills the quiet as you really start to ride him, moaning his name he grips you even harder. One hand leaves your thigh to wrap around his length and you wonder if he’s gonna cum with you, the coil in your gut already starting to tighten.

“This - you, god you feel so good Stevie.” The movements of your hips become more erratic when his tongue starts focusing its attacks on your clit.

You swear you can feel his smirk between your legs at your praise. His body starts shuddering beneath you, the quick work of his hand was bringing him close too. Using the tip of his tongue to rub circles against your swollen nub, he increases his movements more when he hears the moan it pulls from you.

“Right there, just - just like that. Shit. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!” Bouncing against his face and tugging at his roots, your orgasm rips through you like white hot flames.

His tongue never eases its motions despite the feeling of his release hitting your ass, coaxing even more out of you when you thought you’d had enough.

He doesn’t stop even after your hips stop rocking, and he still doesn’t stop when you start to whine. Pulling you down everytime you tried to escape not once but twice, he finally lets you recover after he has you begging for mercy.

Rolling onto your back with a heaving chest, Steve’s sports a shiny shit eating grin.

“If I’d known you’d let me do that, I would’ve had a mustache a long time ago.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic

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chronically-ghosted · 6 months

Text

Dry Run

rating: T

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 1513

summary: you meet javi in a club and he shows you his favorite way to foreplay sex.

warnings: no smut, no y/n, this isn't explicit but outrageously horny, naughty language and bad touching in public, slutty dancing

a/n: @ravensmadreads reminded me that the songs "Gasolina" and "Rompe" exist and then forced me at gun point to write this drabble. no one talks about what a good dancer javi would be and i've had enough!

🤍Masterlist

It started simple enough.

A smile at the bar. The tang of tequila and the sour bite of a lime. A touch against your thigh to see if you are easily startled. He has to lean in close to ask if he can buy you your next drink, the deep rub of his voice only audible above the pound and hum of the music when his lips brush the shell of your ear.

Then you tug him by that linen shirt, the tails already creeping out of the waistband of his jeans as if in anticipation of what comes next. His damp throat visible through the shamelessly undone collar, you wonder if he barely dresses himself because he knows some woman will just tear him naked again. His breath smells smoky, rich, like the mezcal he’s been sipping on, his broad chest warm under your palm as he now herds you onto the dance floor. There’s a grin on his face, a dark fire in his eyes that tells you he likes to play with his food, that this is nothing more than foreplay to him. Practice before the test. A dry run.

He wants you to know exactly where you liked to be touched before you bring him home, to surprise and bewitch you as if he had known those places all along.

But you’re not so easily convinced. Not so easily made dumb by slim hips and wide palms. He wants to dance, you want bailar.

It starts simple enough. His head hung low, teasing grin on his face, he encourages your arms around his neck. You feel his hair stick to your forehead as he leans in rough palms easing down over your wrists, your elbows, your shoulders, then steadying against your hips. He moves like many men in this country do, with the self-assuredness that the music listens to him and not the other way around. He’s light on his feet, cowboy boots taking two steps forward, one step back, and you wonder what kind of a job he has. What kind of a man he is, that he can dance like this but his palms are so rough. You wonder how he would dance if he didn’t have plans of fucking you in the club’s bathroom. His hands rest lightly on your hips, hardly respectable but a little possessive, a promise and a warning that you are going to only dance with him tonight.

You watch his eyes flick down to your chest only a few times.

But then the music changes, the crowd drunk and eager for something stronger than seduction. The bachata gives way to music not about love but lust, its desirable twin. It’s faster, something more metallic and driven.

The hands on your hips tighten and the pulse in your wrists quickens. It comes as no surprise that this stranger, this man can easily handle the switch – the slide into something that demands a change of pace, the roll of the hips instead of a sway.

He is never rough and never grips too tight. His hands glide up to the arch of your back, hot and rolling like candle wax, as he suggests silently that you come closer, that you let him feel only what you’ve been showing. You go willingly, curious and painfully turned on. What is he capable of? What can he do to you? What would you let him do to you?

His feet widen apart and you slot in like you’re supposed to. He seems surprised by it, as if every move you’ve made towards him all night hasn’t been bold, hasn’t explicitly told him what you want. His arm now up around the low dip of your ribs, the thumb on the other hand brushes under your lip. He won’t kiss you, you don’t kiss to this music, but you see he wants to breathe you in, wants to make your air his.

“Hermosa,” he murmurs, everything about him from his hair, to his mustache, eyes and eyebrows dark and heavy. “Que hermosa.”

You don’t realize you’re pinned to his chest until his arm has nowhere to go, trapped between you two. So he doesn’t move it. He cups the back of your neck, fingers pressing into the damp lining of your hair above the knot of your spine. This isn’t what he expected to happen and neither did you. His belt buckle digs into your hips and you can’t resist pushing into that cold pinch. His nostrils flare, eyes searching, breath short. Sweat drips over his left eye and you half-bite, half-kiss the spot on his forehead, tongue printing on his skin.

You feel more than hear the groan in his chest.

The music changes again, the lights spinning and dropping in the low beats. In the half-dark, he tugs your elbows from around his head, finger rubbing over the lining of your panties over your dress, and he turns you, barely allowing an inch of space between you.

You feel his breath on your neck before those wide palms curl around you, that hot, damp chest curl around you, and he’s dragged you against him, all without missing the flow of the music. You moan when his hard cock, confined by the seam of his jeans, spreads your ass cheeks apart and you drop your head onto his shoulder. His fingers twist the hem of your dress but don’t move it. The bareness of your skin is for him alone, in private, in the half-darkness. Instead, he palms the hand pressing into your thigh, your legs screaming from the constant movement, and brings it up to your chest, his fingers intertwining with yours. He nudges your jaw with his nose, breath heavy against your ear.

He likes to fuck like this too, you realize.

His hips flow and buck with the music, yours nestled as tight as you can without him physically being inside you. You purposefully fall out of sync for a fraction of a second, your ass grindings against where he is so deliciously hard and he grunts. He drops his head, tongue then teeth digging into the muscle between your shoulder and your neck. You intentionally rub against him again, in the opposite direction, and his other hand again overtakes yours, threading his fingers and yours together, and wraps your arm around your ribs, his own like a hot steel bar across you.

You toss your head back, gasping for air before you are pulled back under.

Wrapped around you, he fucks you without penetration, the music a whispered instruction to the pace of his hips. You turn your head and bite his ear, making him groan deep, the metal teeth of his jeans imprinting their shape onto your ass. His eyes closed, his fingers dig into your palms. Hot, humid air puffs from his wet mouth over your shoulder, into the curl of your neck. Your skin beneath your wet hair twitches with sudden goosebumps.

You realize, in a daze, he’s muttering the filthy lyrics to you, smearing promises into your skin long before you can reciprocate that pleasure. You push back against him, a reward, and this time, he purposefully rubs against you, against the music, his hand over yours dropping to your abdomen, just where your panties sit under your dress. He cups you as if he could mount you – drive you under him, and eat you out on his knees.

On the next flash of light, the drop of the beat, you slide your hand out from under him and wind up into his hair. His free forearm binds you just under your tits, keeping you against his grinds, his sweat-damp body, so you curl your fingers into his hair and yank. His head drops back as he pants from the sharp spike of pleasure and pain.

His heartbeat is the same as the bass, you think. Maybe yours too, the heat of his chest felt all the way down your spine.

He is minutes away from unwinding himself from you, from flushing you cold without the fervor of his body, your own drenched in sweat, only to all but drag you into the nearest bathroom, shove your panties down to your knees and actually, properly fuck you until you have bruises and beg him for more. But not yet.

There’s an intimacy in dancing like this. A familiarity that is too often rapidly lost and gained in the physicality of later acts.

You think deliriously that all couples should have to dance like this before going out or even hooking up. Because this, this chemistry, this natural heat and rhythm, can so often provide honesty that can rarely be spoken about so early. This, this dancing, asks, “are you going to fuck me like I need it?”

Yes, his body proves as his strong, thick thighs cage you even further into him, yes, he can.

He will fuck you. He will, he promises every time he makes you squeeze yourself with his hands.

But not yet.

Not yet.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix

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endlessthxxghts · 7 months

Text

You Better Jump... (1 of 2)

neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: You wake up after a drunk night out to the lock on your door broken. The neighbor who lives in the same apartment complex as you offers to fix it for you.

Warnings: canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). allusions to further sexual activity between reader and Joel, mainly fluff and flirting and embarrassing interactions that'll give you butterflies, an unhinged best friend (vulgar dialogue from said best friend), cellphone audio connecting elsewhere where other people can hear..., 18+ MDNI. F masturbation in a bathtub, Joel having incredible self control until he doesn't, making out... (I think that's it! As always, let me know if there's anything I missed that should be in here!)

Author's note: I intended for this to be a one shot, but I just know the next part will be pretty long. I still need to write up a few more details for part 2, but it will be posted VERY SOON! For now, please enjoy this. :)

PART 2 HERE (VERY NSFW, 18+ MDNI)!! || MASTERLIST

“Shit, I don’t even know which lock to get,” you mutter to yourself as you stand helplessly in the middle of the aisle.

You went to the bar last night, got a little too drunk for your own good, and when you woke up in the morning, your front door’s lock was broken. You genuinely don’t know how that happened, but you do know that you need to fix it as soon as possible, especially with the fact that you just moved in not too long ago and you live alone.

“Hey there,” a rough Texan drawl says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up to see a tall, broad man. Soft, brown eyes, a mustache and some scruff along his jawline. He’s clad in a dark blue t-shirt and some jeans. He’s handsome, and oh god, you’ve been completely gawking at him instead of responding. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes twinkle in delight, like he’s enjoying the attention you’re giving him. “Oh, hi, uh- I’m sorry, just kinda zoned out there for a sec,” you ramble on, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “don’t worry about that.” He smiles, and you’ve never experienced anything more beautiful. “I, uh, couldn’t help but recognize ya, and overhear ya about the locks?” You give a confused look, and he continues, “I think we live in the same apartment complex. You just moved in a few weeks ago, right? I’m Joel.”

You are seriously so confused right now because you are so sure you would never forget if you had a neighbor that looks this handsome. And apparently all your defenses are down right now because you just fucking said that out loud.

You can see Joel’s cheeks and neck flush into a bright red, his hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck and the blush in your face follows. “Holy shit, I did not just fucking say that out loud,” you groan as you bury your hands into your face. You realize you still haven’t introduced your name, so you quickly squeak it out. He tells you it’s nice to meet you followed by your name, and he rambles on, “And I, uh, I’m flattered...you’re, uh, not too bad yourself.” Your head shoots up, and you swear your face cannot get even redder, but somehow it does.

He senses that you can’t handle anymore of this god awful attempt at flirting, so he saves you by continuing his original thought. “Well, what I was tryna say was- I overheard you sayin’ ya didn’t know which lock to choose? I’m pretty handy in the maintenance department, and I’ve helped a few neighbors in our complex with much more complicated than door locks. Maybe I can help ya?” You feel all the stress from your body completely fade away, and you absolutely take advantage of this beautiful man offering to help with your locks.

“Oh my god, really? I owe you one, thank you so so much,” you tell him. He smiles. “It’s no trouble at all, darlin,’” he says as he grabs the correct lock for the apartment complex, “this is the one we’d need.”

All you came here for was for the lock, but you ended up staying with him and having conversation throughout his entire Home Depot run. Turns out he’s a contractor, used to live in a home but since his daughter moved out he doesn’t find the necessity of having a big home for himself. He didn’t sell it though, he let his brother and his wife take it over. Very minimalist kind of guy.

You forget you two didn’t drive to the store together, so you’re almost kind of bummed at the fact that you have to separate from him. He bids you goodbye and says he has to run a few more errands. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Is it okay if I swing by your place then?”

You’ve been so entranced by his presence and your guys’ conversation that you forgot the entire reasoning behind why you began talking in the first place, and it’s heavily evident in your confused look. His lip quirks up again, “…to fix your door lock,” he adds, amused.

You mentally slap your forehead. Fucking get it together, you think to yourself. “Yes,” you immediately blabber out as soon as you realize you’ve gone quiet again. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

“Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you in a few,” he says as he shoots you a wink and begins walking in the direction of his truck, and there goes that nickname again.

Oh, you are absolutely fucked.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a ten minute drive back home, and as soon as you get back in the car, you call your best friend and tell her what an absolute fool you made out of yourself.

“BITCH,” she screams, gasping for air at how hard she’s laughing, “I can’t fucking stand you, oh my god, I’m crying.”

“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her, while tears are also streaming down your face, attempting to catch your breath. “Dude, I swear, once you get a good look at him, you’ll see what the fuck I’m talking about, and you’ll see my reaction was VALID to such a beautiful looking man.”

She stays on the phone with you for the rest of your little drive, and ends your guys’ conversation with, “In all seriousness, though, you better jump on that di-”

You gasp out and yell her name, “OH MY GOD, you’re done. Goodbye.”

She cackles, “Update me later, babe. I love you.”

“I love you more, you fuckin’ menace,” you say as you park.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your next few hours are filled with you absolutely stressing. You know Joel is just coming to fix the door, but you can’t shake away the nerves. So you spend the first hour absolutely deep cleaning your apartment.

You still have about maybe an hour left, so you decide to try and calm your nerves some more with a quick bath. You quickly undress and give yourself a quick wash in the shower to wash all of today’s dirt before you set up your bath.

Filling up the tub, you throw in some lavender scented bubbles and light your favorite cashmere vanilla candle, the combination of the scents immediately relaxing you. Maybe a little too relaxed, though, because as you sink deeper into the tub, your body can’t help but continue to rise in heat at the thought of Joel. Without thinking, your eyes slowly close and your hand drifts closer to where you’re aching the most.

You start by drawing soft circles on your clit, pulling soft little mewls from your throat. The thought of those big rough hands pushes you to move a little faster, and the thought of that scruff rubbing against your inner thigh pushes you to dip your middle and ring finger into your entrance, pumping in and out with such a need you haven’t experienced in a while. The sounds coming out of you now are high pitched and whiny, and you can’t help the way your body writhes against the bathtub, sloshing water out the sides.

Your hips are grinding up against your palm, stimulating your clit while your fingers hit that velvety spot that drives you absolutely mad. You bring your other hand up to your mouth as a reflex to silence your sounds, but an image flashes in your mind that it was Joel’s hand over your mouth instead, and that’s what ends you.

Your eyes clamp shut, head thrown back, spine completely arched, and all you can see are little white fireworks behind your eyelids as your orgasm breaks you, the lukewarm water feeling hotter than when you first drew the bath.

You sit there for a moment to catch your breath, willing your body to work since the man you just touched yourself to should be here in any minute.

You dry yourself off, putting your hair up in a towel and dressing in some gray sweat-shorts and a tank top, not caring to completely doll your figure since he’s in your home after all. Right as you finish up your skincare, you hear a knock at your door. You take one more look at yourself, and you’re still absolutely flushed with a hint of that orgasmic glow, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he can make you cum like that with just the thought of him, you’re absolutely gonna take your best friend’s advice from earlier.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You open the door for him and immediately the heat you tried to save yourself from is back, tenfold. “Hey, darlin’,” he says with a smile. The nickname makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter harder than before. You give a sweet smile back. It’s his turn to melt, but you don’t clock it as easily as he can with you.

He steps inside, a little closer to you, and immediately he falls to his knees. You watch him, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a few little tools from his back pocket, and suddenly you realize you were holding your breath. Here he is, wasting no time getting started on fixing your door for you while you stare at him like he’s giving you a strip tease, all because he got down on his knees.

You clear your throat, trying to regain your composure, and you offer, “C-can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”

He looks up at you, and he cannot get enough. Your flushed cheeks, the way your body language shows your excitement and nerves all in one, your towel lopsided on your head. So goddamn beautiful, he thinks to himself. Again, it’s his turn as he zones out in his thoughts, but this time, you do notice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of confidence shoot down your spine at the fact that you’re affecting him just as much as he affects you.

Your smirk grows the longer he stares, and finally he realizes what’s happening, and his face goes tomato red. He’s pretty sure no one has ever seen him blush this much since he was a teenager. “Some water would be wonderful, sweetheart, thank you,” he says, thanking whatever God in existence that his words were coherent and not a blubbering mess like his brain.

“Coming right up,” you say, and make your way into your kitchen, thankful for the little private moment to yourself. As you grab Joel a cup and fill it with ice and water, you feel your phone ring in your pocket. It’s your best friend. You bring your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button on the way up.

“Hello?” you repeat several times before you hear your best friend, but not through your phone. Forgetting the water for a minute, you scramble to the living room, where Joel is right next to, to hear your best friend coming from your living room speaker: Hello? Can you hear me?? I said did you jump on sexy neighbor’s dick ye-

You hurriedly end the call and throw your phone across the room. Your heart starts to pound even harder when you see Joel in your peripheral view, still working hard on the lock, but he is definitely in the proximity to have seen and heard everything. You quickly turn back to the kitchen to grab the glass, purposely avoiding Joel’s eye.

Quickly you grab the glass and place it on the little table near the front door. Joel sits back on his haunches for a moment and takes a long gulp of the ice cold water. Too amused at the display that happened moments ago, he can’t help himself when he says, “So… sounds like ya got your hands full with that friend of yours, hm?” He looks up at you with mischief in his eye.

And just like that, any sense of confidence you had at having the upper hand over this Texan man went down the drain. You completely fumble. “Oh- I- yeah, my best friend… Did you hear- Fuck, no, of course you heard, I-”

Joel pulls himself up to stand at full height, now towering over you. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to your chin, pulling you to meet his eyes while also pulling you from the hole you keep digging deeper. You immediately shut up. He has a crooked grin plastered on his face when he says, “I didn’t hear a thing,” followed by a wink. You can feel your knees wanting to buckle. You breathily squeak out an okay and he assures you with another okay in response. You two stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Joel, without thinking, says, “Let me take ya out to dinner.”

You slowly pull away from his grasp, afraid you’re invading his space even though he just asked you out on a date. He takes it as a sign of discomfort and immediately creates an arm’s length of space between you. “I-I’m sorry if I overstepped or made you uncomfor-”

“No, Joel, hey,” you cut him off quickly, stepping slightly closer. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you beam up at him, your bottom lip wedged in your mouth to ease your nervousness. “I just pulled away because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything,” you quickly add.

“That’ll never happen,” he softly says. He steps closer again. “I’m sorry, but I- Shit, okay, I’m a gentleman through and through, but I-” he pauses for a moment, “I just- I really need to kiss you-”

You don’t let him finish his thought as you grab onto his arms and pull him into you, guiding both his arms around your lower back and guiding your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and the way your noses bump each other ever so often is enough for you to completely buckle. His hold on you is tight enough to keep you standing, but you truly don’t know how much more of this you can take with a certain bulge pushing into your lower belly. His one hand falls lower and testing the waters, he lightly grasps onto your asscheek. You moan into his mouth at that, and he takes that as your signal for him to fully grab you, hiking you up onto your tippy toes in an attempt to consume more of you. He breaks the kiss a little to give you some airflow back, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he brings his kisses to the side of your mouth, to your cheek, gliding down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping anywhere you give him access to.

You were right. It’s not quite exactly your thighs like you were imagining earlier, but the way his plump lips, mustache, and scruff feel along your neck is absolutely sinful and addicting, and…

Oh, you are absolutely fucked.

Author's note - extended: I hope you guys enjoyed this enough to tune in to part 2! The 2nd part will be very SMUTTY, so... ;)

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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soliarus · 3 months

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*sigh* Business Party

-fluff, suggestive, business partyyyy shenanigans, first kiss!?!? OH MY GAWD finally finished the series!! Thanks @miinatozakiii for the original request!!

: taking your niece’s teacher out to a business party is crazy

words 1.4k

teacher!sana x fem!reader

part 1 part 2

“You look very pretty, Sana,” you mumble with a blush as you stiffly hold up a bouquet of flowers when the apartment door opens. She was wearing a white dress with a faux feathered coat draped across her shoulders. Sana bashfully smiles as she steps out.

“And you also look very pretty, Y/N” Your blush increased tenfold as Sana looked at you from under her lashes.

“T-thank you!” You were wearing a really pretty black dress, and Sana couldn’t keep her eyes off your body. It just hugged your curves in all the right places, in a way that makes her itch—the good kind of itch.

“Thank you so much for being my plus one, Sana!” you say as you open the passenger door for her, “I really appreciate it; I didn’t know who else to bring. Last time I brought Eun, and let’s just say she was a bit too excited.”

“Of course, Y/N! Thank you so much for inviting me; I’ve never been to a party like this, and I’m excited!” Sana beams as she places her hand over yours, which rests on the door handle. You swallow as Sana’s fingers rub against yours.

“Y-yeah…” *gulp*

—

“Oh, Sana, before we go inside…” You start. Still in your car, the venue is only a couple steps away. It’s clear you were nervous.

“Yes, Y/N?” Sana looks at you expectantly, but with the most caring eyes.

“This is for you.” You pull out a bracelet, carefully crafted with fine silver and diamonds. “I had it specially made for you; it’s a thank you. For joining me tonight.”

—

The party was much fancier than Sana intended; the hall was adorned with gold and maroon decorations. And it just smelled rich. Like someone spilt a bottle of Chanel Cuir de Russie.

Sana was nervous, like really super nervous. She fiddled with her fingers, bringing them up to play with the bracelet you had given her a few moments ago. She cautiously eyed the magnificent room. You sensed her nervousness and slowly held her hand in yours.

“I was nervous at my first party too, but I promise you, I won’t let anything bad happen to you tonight.” You softly tell her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. This time Sana feels her breath hitch. You just look so good. You smile at her, lost in her eyes for a second, before coming to your senses.

“Hey, you’ve got to try the wine here; the rich snobs love it, seriously it tastes like trash.” You whisper the last bit into Sana’s ear, who just giggles as you walk her towards the huge bar in the corner.

“Oh, oh wow…” Sana covers her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut after taking a sip of some wine. You try to hold back your laugh.

“See, I told you, just because the bottles are more expensive doesn’t mean the taste gets better.” you giggle as Sana slumps over the counter.

“What’s with rich people and bitterness…” Sana mumbles but then her eyes widen as she looks at you, “I-I didn’t mean you- I just-”

You really couldn’t hold back your laugh this time as Sana stumbles over her words. She’s mesmerized by the way you tilt your head back and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, your eyes forming crescents. God, she feels lucky enough to be in your presence.

“Ah, Ms. Magical Diamond has decided to finally attend a party,” a deep voice spoke from behind you. You turned to face a tall 6’6” man, his broad shoulders and buff muscles constricting within the suit he wore, his mustache proper yet holding so much power.

Sana felt astonished, frightened even, this man was scary, he’s got to be some bodyguard, mafia boss, assassin, or something. You– no scratch that everyone looked so small compared to him. Yet your smile didn’t show any fear at all, you beamed as you hugged him.

“Mr. Puff!” You exclaim. Okay, weird name. Sana thought. But her nervousness dissipated as she saw the man smile, it seemed so fatherly, co comforting.

“Sana! This is Mr. Puff! He’s the owner of Puff’s Bakery!” You introduce her. Oh, this big guy owns that one cute bakery in New York—the one with white walls, completely adorned with baby pink decor?

She’s astonished as she stares at the man. You giggle at her awed face, “He might seem all rough on the outside, but trust me he’s just a big old cream puff”. You reassure her, Sana just nods as you and Mr. Puff begin a light conversation.

While you’re distracted, she takes the chance to look around, not at the place, she’s already done that, but at the people. Her eyes catch celebrities and business entrepreneurs of all kinds. Some of them she didn’t know anything about, except for one thing, they could probably buy her life in a heartbeat.

Holy sh*t, is that Kim Kardashian!?

“Sana? Sana!” You were waving a hand over her face, trying to get her attention.

“Huh?” You giggle as she turns to you, looking like a confused puppy. You place a hand on her cheek.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” You murmur, staring into her eyes. Sana’s face flushes.

“W-what?”

“Uhh I mean that– like– you…let’s just leave”

—-

“It’s still early in the night...would you like to come over to my place?” You ask Sana after leaving the venue.

“If you don’t mind! I would love to see your place!” Sana beams, her eyes twinkling, ready to see your home.

You two stop in front of a huge building, handing in your keys before leading the way. Just as the two of you step into the elevator, a whole bunch of people step in. Why are there so many people out right now? You wouldn’t know. One thing you did know was that your front was literally pressed against Sana’s right now as the two of you were shoved into the corner of the elevator.

You were breathing against Sana’s neck, her hands wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. You chanted in your mind. You shivered as one of her hands trailed up from your waist across your back, against your neck, before grasping your chin. You didn’t have any time to react because she tugged your face up only to place a soft peck on your lips. You were shocked, to say the least.

When you tried to make eye contact with her, you saw she was looking somewhere else, or at someone else. A man, you saw him scoff and stuff his phone in his pocket before turning to look at the door instead. Sana also let out a scoff under her breath before looking at you. Her serious eyes, now wide and full, you saw as her face slowly turned red. You also felt your face burn as everyone in the elevator stepped out, leaving the two of you alone in there.

You take a step back, once the doors close, your chest heaving. You notice how Sana’s hands linger a bit before she speaks up, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have done that without your permission, that guy was eyeing you weird and I think he was going to take a picture of you– I know that’s not an excuse but–”

You stopped her in her tracks, “I liked it…” you whispered.

“What…” She breathes out.

“I liked it”

—

As soon as the door closed, you pushed Sana against it, your lips fully on hers. Two breaths combined into one as you tugged each other closer. Your make out session didn’t last long though. You felt yourself freeze in your spot when you heard someone clear their throat behind you—a sound you’re way too familiar with.

“E-eun! What are you doing here!” You turned around, hair slapping Sana in the face. There was your niece in all her glory, wearing her Barbie pjs, a cup of milk in her hand, the other tapping against it as she leaned against the wall.

“Mom dropped me off five hours ago, had the place to myself…” She shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing ever, “I should be the one asking that question to her” She points to the woman behind you, “Ms. Minatoki…”

“I–uhmm…” Sana has nothing to say, not even the normal correction of her name, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, I mean what can you say after your student finds their aunt’s lipstick marks all over your face.

You hurriedly hand Sana a tissue and help her pull her dress straps onto her shoulder.

“Why didn’t your mom tell me she was dropping you off,” You groan.

“She texted you, and emailed you, and called you, even left a voicemail, I think?” Eun murmurs.

“You should be in bed.”

“So you could have my teacher in yours?”

#sana x reader #sana imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice imagine #twice sana

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roosterforme · 1 year

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Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley takes you back to his hotel room, and things between the two of you feel as perfect and intense as they did ten years ago - and not just physically.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

"Sugar," he groaned. "Please tell me you're coming back to my hotel room."

Without any hesitation whatsoever, you leaned in and whispered, "Yes."

When Bradley shifted again on the bar stool and slowly stood up, you could feel his hard length rubbing against your belly. You were pressed snug against the front of him, your hands exploring his abs and chest through his soft shirt.

He kissed your forehead and dug in his back pocket for his wallet while you marveled at how tall he was. He had always been tall and strong, but he wasn't so slim anymore. He looked like he could handle tossing you around a bit in bed, and now you were getting really wet for him.

You watched him pull a fifty out of his wallet and hand it to the bartender. "Let me get your change," he told Bradley.

"Keep it," Bradley grunted in return, gathering up your purse and phone with one hand and guiding you away from the bar with his other hand at your lower back.

"Where's your hotel?" you asked, still all over Bradley as he tried to guide you around everyone entering the bar for the evening.

"Across the street," he rasped, pushing you back against the exterior of the building as soon as you were outside. You could feel the rough bricks digging into the backs of your arms as Bradley pressed against you with his body.

"I fucking missed you, Sugar."

That's all it took. Both of your hands were at the back of his neck pulling his mouth to yours. He had you pinned in place, mouth mashing against yours as he tasted your lips and parted them with his.

He was so solid and warm, and the humidity of the evening air was adding to your adrenaline rush. Nobody had ever felt as good as Bradley. You moaned into his mouth as he tasted your teeth, earning you his knee right where you wanted it again.

You basked in the pressure of his leg against your clit through your underwear, underneath your dress. Vaguely you were aware that there were other people out tonight; it was dark, but the soft street lamps only allowed for so much privacy. But you didn't care, and Bradley didn't seem to either.

When you rubbed yourself slow and steady up and down his thigh, he took your chin between his thumb and fingers a little roughly. You gasped and let your eyes meet his as your head was tipped back against the bricks.

"Yeah... I remember everything," he told you. "That study room is burned into my mind. The things you let me do. The way you made me feel. Fuck, Sugar! How was I supposed to forget that?"

"Bradley!" you whined, and his lips found yours again as his fingers tangled in your hair.

So he thought about the study room, too. Kissing, studying, laughing, and sex; that's what you pictured every time. It had been perfect.

And now he felt so familiar; you knew the patterns of his scars and the shape of his face by heart. But he also felt brand new, the way his mustache grazed your neck when he kissed you there. He was sucking gently and then soothing you with his tongue.

"Missed you," he whispered against your skin. You clenched around nothing as his hand skimmed down your neck and over your collarbone to your breasts. "Come to my room."

"Please," you gasped, immediately missing and still craving the friction of his leg when he removed it.

"Jesus, Sugar," he hissed, squeezing you tighter around your waist. "Holy shit."

Your jaw dropped open when you saw that he was looking at the wet spot that you left on his thigh.

"Oh my god," you blurted out. But he was scooping you up into his arms, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as if you did this with him all the time. Bradley kept your purse in his hand and carried you to the corner to wait for the crosswalk light like you weighed nothing.

You kissed his neck as he checked for traffic before just jaywalking toward the hotel. He held you tight to his abs as he went and told you, "You can go ahead and get my shirt wet too. I don't mind one bit."

With a smile, you pressed your core a little more snug against him. "I guess I missed you, too, Beer Boy."

Bradley carried you through the hotel lobby as you ran your fingers through his hair and teased his mustache with your lips.

You snorted when the concierge desk employee said, "Welcome back, sir. Have a good night."

"Oh, I will," Bradley promised with a smile. Then he kissed you as he jammed the elevator up button a few times and pressed your back against the wall. "I'm gonna have a great night, right Sugar?"

"I'll see to that," you whispered against his lips.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, ducking inside the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He set you down in the corner and reached behind him to select the fifth floor, and then you were pulling him back toward you. "I'm right here," he promised.

You wanted him everywhere. You were wet and so ready for him. You moaned his name in the small space, and you'd never sounded so needy before. He still had your purse in one hand, and some of your lipstick was smeared on his lips. His hair was practically standing on end from your fingers, and his pupils were so wide.

"Is that true, what you said at the bar?" he asked, voice rough as you felt his free hand slip up under your dress. "In ten years, nobody else could make you cum quite as good as me, Sugar?"

Your head tipped back against the wall as he squeezed the back of your thigh. "Yes. It's true."

He grinned. "Well, I'm glad we're on the same page here." He handed you his key card and scooped you up again. "Nothing else is quite as sweet as Sugar."

You were sucking on the side of his neck as he carried you to his room and positioned you so that you could open the door.

"I want you," you told him as soon as he had you in the room with the door slamming shut. And immediately you were on your back on the bed, knees bent and thighs spread wide as Bradley's body weight pushed you down into the soft bedding. He was hard in his pants and rubbing you through your underwear. Your head was already tipped back as he kissed your neck and palmed your breasts through your dress.

"I want you too, Sugar." He teased your nipples and said, "You still like skipping a bra sometimes? I used to love that."

Your only response was a pitiful moan as his hands traveled down and yanked your dress up to your waist. Before you had time to register the cold air on your skin, Bradley had pulled your underwear to one side and started kissing your pussy.

He was pushing your thighs wide with his big hands as he licked you up and down. "Still so sweet," he whispered against your clit before wrapping his lips around you and sucking.

You hadn't been with a man who was good at this in so long. And Bradley was very good. He eased two fingers inside you while he licked and sucked on you, and you just knew you were coating his mustache.

It should have been embarrassing how fast and hard you came for him after rocking against his face. But he seemed to remember just what you liked, and his technique was even better now. Your legs were shaking and you could tell you soaked his face when you came.

You were gasping for air and rubbing your hands over your face as Bradley licked your wetness off your thighs. You let him remove your shoes and then guide your underwear down your legs.

"That was quick, Sugar," he said, panting a little and guiding his hands under your dress to pull it higher up your body. He was rock hard, his dick grinding against your core as he moved. "Nobody been taking good care of you?"

You arched your back to help him and then shook your head, saying, "I blame your mustache. It's lethal!"He smiled and guided his left hand higher beneath your dress, and your eyes fluttered closed as he traced your tattoo of Euler's identity.

"I haven't stopped thinking about this in ten years. Right there, by your tits. Everyone's looking at you all day, and they have no idea you've got this titty tattoo that I've been dreaming about for a fucking decade."

You whispered, "Beer Boy," and his lips were on yours again. You let him push the dress all the way up and over your head and toss it to the floor. And whether you liked it or not, he was about to see your newer tattoo as well, so you let him kiss along your skin until his eyes cracked open and he froze.

"Sugar," he gasped, pausing over your body. He read the words a few times before meeting your eyes again. "The Grateful Dead?"

You moaned as his hands both came to rest just below your breasts, caressing you there. You were suddenly feeling shy. You got the lyrics tattooed below your math tattoo shortly after your move to Chicago.

Bradley's lips met the ink with reverence. "I sang that song to you." When he looked up at your face, you just nodded.

He kissed you there again and rubbed his nose along it as well. "Did you get this because of me?" he asked so softly.

"Yes."

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

Bradley thought he was going to pass out. You had a second tattoo below your math equation. And it was lyrics from one of his favorite Grateful Dead songs.

You don't know how easy it is to love you.

He wanted to make love to you now and tomorrow and next week. "Did you get this because of me?" He needed to know.

"Yes." You said it so simply. Like all of this should make perfect sense to him. As if Bradley should have known he was just biding his time for ten years until he could have you again. He had never been more turned on by anyone in his life than he was by you for those few months during senior year of college. And today.

He groaned Sugar and nipped at your skin and your breasts until you were pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants. He yanked them down along with his underwear and tossed them near your dress.

You were looking at his body the way most women did. But he had to smile, because you had looked at him the same way when he was twenty one years old and nowhere near as muscular. Bradley eased himself down to kiss you like he was doing a pushup, and your lips met his with a smile. He'd be lying if he wasn't looking at your body the same way; you were curvier now, and your ass and tits looked bigger. This felt like a dream.

Bradley groaned when you guided your hands along his back and shoulders as your wet pussy cradled his hard cock as he dragged himself against you. "You feel so good," you gasped when he pulled his lips away from yours.

But now he was groaning. "Doctor Sugar, I don't have any condoms with me." He kept rubbing himself along your wetness, praying you'd still let him fuck you.

"That's okay. I have an IUD," you told him, gently grasping his length and guiding him inside your perfect pussy. "And you're the only guy I ever let skip a condom."

Bradley growled at the combination of your wet warmth and your words. "Sugar, you're killing me." He felt like he was still yours. Like he had never belonged with anyone else. And all the little gasps and moans you made while your fingers dragged through his hair made him throb for you.

"I want..." you began as Bradley started to thrust. "I want you to make me stupid."

In a split second of realization, Bradley knew with certainty that he was the only man who could render you dumb with his body. So he fucked you hard and steady, and listened to you getting louder.

"Oh, you're such a good girl."

You only seemed capable of whining his name now as he filled you up over and over. He held your bucking hips down with one hand on your hip and went harder while he touched and tasted your chest. He was never going to stop touching you. He'd do anything you asked of him.

Your breathing was erratic now, and he felt those first flutters of your orgasm squeezing his cock. He pressed his forehead to yours, grinding into you with both hands at your waist.

"Sugar... tell me you'll stay with me all night. I need you to stay."

"Okay," you promised with tears in your eyes, and when Bradley added his fingers to your clit, you started to come. He could feel himself moving inside you against his fingers, and everything was too much. With a loud, strangled noise, he came inside your pussy and let your body squeeze everything from him.

Then your movements were languid, and the fucked out look on your face, complete with dazed smile, had him wanting to keep his cock buried deep inside you. Your fingers moved lazily through his hair, and Bradley knew he must look ridiculous from how much you'd been touching it. He nudged his nose along your softly swollen lips which had you kissing his mustache again, something he never knew he needed in his life.

"Beer Boy?" you asked softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

You pressed your lips together to stifle your smile. "I need the bathroom."

"Right," he groaned, slowly withdrawing himself from inside you. He helped guide you toward the edge of the bed, but his movements stalled as he watched the mess he had made inside you come dripping out. He pushed your legs wide and prevented you from standing up.

"Did you make a mess?" you asked with a light laugh.

"Oh... it's fucking beautiful." He rubbed his fingers through his cum before it dripped onto the bedding, and then he watched you take his wrist and guide his fingers to your mouth.

"I've never had a creampie before," you whispered, licking his cum and your own wetness from his fingers.

"Shit... I'll give you as many as you want, Sugar."

You looked up at him, a little shy as you kissed his cheek and made your way into the bathroom. Bradley cleaned himself off with some tissues and then dropped back onto the bed. The last thing he wanted to do was make you shut down at all. As he ran his hands over his face, he recognized that being around you still made him feel good. Just like it always had.

But shit, he was itching to ask you more about that new tattoo. When did you get it? Did you think of him every time you looked at it? Did you remember how many times he had sung those lyrics to you? Because he did; nine times. It was nine times that he sang to you about someone arbitrarily being easy to love. But really, saying 'I love you, Sugar' had been on the tip of his tongue each time.

When you came back from the bathroom, Bradley sat himself up on the edge of the bed. You strutted back toward him, tapping your lips nervously. "This feels so surreal. I half expected you to have disappeared by the time I came back out here."

He just shook his head and reached for you. "I'm not going anywhere."

That seemed to set your mind at ease, because you smiled at him before you came to stand in front of him. Bradley eased his thighs apart so you could stand between them, and he looked up at you as he let his hands settle on your waist, guiding you closer.

"I didn't let myself believe you'd be here this weekend," he whispered, stroking your tattoos and placing a kiss between your breasts. "Couldn't get my hopes up like that."

You melted against him as your hands found his shoulders. "Can we cuddle?" you asked softly. Bradley pulled you down into his lap and turned so that his head rested on the pillows, and your head rested on his chest as you both sprawled out together on the bed.

You shivered against him when he wrapped his arm around you. "Too cold, Sugar? I'll turn the air conditioner down."

"No," you demanded, keeping him in bed with both arms around him. Instead you and he burrowed under the covers and you settled down on his chest again.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Very," you murmured against his neck.

Bradley rubbed your back for a few minutes, working up the nerve to ask you what was on his mind. He cleared his throat. "You wanna tell me about that new tattoo of yours?"

"It's not exactly new," you whispered. "I got it when I moved to Chicago."

Bradley's arms inadvertently wrapped around you a little tighter. "You really missed me?"

You looked up at him and nodded. "Enough to get a damn tattoo."

Bradley grinned at you, and then his stomach started growling.

"Hungry, Beer Boy?"

"Is that pizza place we really liked still around?" he asked, kissing your nose. "I'm feeling real nostalgic today."

You smiled. "Yeah! It's still open. Same angry guy making the pizzas, too."

"Well, holy shit. Wanna share one with me?"

The way you were looking at him was too familiar. Your smile grew as you agreed with his pizza idea, and Bradley kissed you as he told you not to move. He stood up to retrieve his phone, and your eyes tracked his every move.

"You still like the same toppings?" he asked as he found the phone number online.

"Yes," you said with a laugh. "You remember what I like on my pizza?"

"I told you, I remember everything."

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

You listened to Bradley order your favorite kind of pizza, and then he joined you in bed again. He was just so sexy now. Lord, he had always been adorable and sweet, but this was unbelievable.

And you did realize there was still a lot to talk about, especially if you were going to spend the whole night here with him. But you weren't in any rush to make things awkward, especially since he was gently rolling you onto your back again and easing himself on top of you with a grin.

"Alright, Professor Sugar. Tell me more about these schools you're looking at. Where were they? Miami and San Diego?"

He was eyeing you with a look you couldn't quite place. He seemed anxious, maybe, to know which colleges were trying to hire you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he used his massive biceps to hold himself just above your body. "Yeah. Miami and San Diego. I'm planning on visiting both in person in the next two weeks. Want to see which one I like more."

You were bending your knee and easing your thigh up around his hip, trying to keep your composure as you could feel him getting hard against your leg.

"Hmm, yeah, it's a good idea to look at both options. What criteria do the schools need to meet for you to want to move there?" he asked in his soft, raspy voice as you ground your core up against him.

"Um, well they need to have updated lab facilities," you said, your eyes drifting closed as Bradley kissed your neck. "And, I'd need a really impressive office, you know, if I'm going on tenure track."

"Sure. Absolutely," he agreed, and now you were feeling up his biceps.

"And of course, I can't work at a university that has a library with subpar study rooms," you said. A laugh escaped your lips as he gently bit your neck.

"And just who are you going to test out those rooms with, Sugar?"

"Nobody," you promised as he teased your earlobe with his mustache.

"Ah, some solo action, then. Nothing wrong with that."

You both jumped as the hotel room phone rang. "Must be the pizza," Bradley said, kissing a trail across your chest and ending at your tattoos. You were already turned on again, and watching him parade across the room with a half hard dick was not helping you calm down. He answered the phone as he started to pull his pants on, skipping the underwear. Then he pulled his shirt on and walked back to the bed.

"I'll be right back, Sugar," he said, placing a kiss on your lips before grabbing his wallet and the room key. "If you're cold, grab something out of my bag."

You nodded and climbed out of bed, making the decision to turn the air conditioner down and then stopping by Bradley's open suitcase. You saw a quirky looking Hawaiian shirt and slipped it on, doing the two middle buttons to keep it closed. Then you moved everything off to the side of the desk and took a seat on top, saving the chair for him, just as the door opened.

"Fucking pizzas cost twice as much now, if you can believe it," he muttered as he came to stand in front of you. You reached for the box, but he pulled it away and shook his head slowly. He set the box down on the wheeled chair and then kicked the chair a few feet out of his way. "You look good in my shirt."

"Do I?" you asked, glancing down at yourself. "I was just kind of cold, and you told me I could-"

His mouth was on yours, cutting your sentence short, and you were reaching for his pants zipper. He moaned into your mouth as you carefully got his fly open, and his erection sprang to attention.

Bradley spread your legs apart just as you were clenching against nothing. "I want you," you whispered against his lips, and he was gently guiding you closer to the edge of the desk.

"I'm all yours," he told you, pressing just the tip of himself into your pussy.

You wanted more. Your body was demanding more as you clenched and clenched. But Bradley was taking his time undoing those two buttons and sliding deeper, one slow inch at a time. He ran his fingers along your nipples, and you were already practically shaking.

"Fuck me again. Fuck me hard like you did on the beer pong table."

Bradley's eyes were so lust filled, you almost screamed as he slammed his cock all the way deep inside you. He was going so hard, you were grabbing along the wall behind you, searching for something to hang on to while he held your hips.

"I fucked you so hard on the beer pong table, because you were wearing that ridiculous little skirt. Somehow, this shirt on you is even hotter," he said, gasping for his words.

You were getting loud; you should have been covering your mouth, but your hands finally grabbed on to something to keep you upright as Bradley railed you.

"Oh shit," you cried out, accidentally knocking the lamp on the floor with a crash, but neither of you stopped going. You gave up and grabbed his shoulders, and somehow he went even deeper as you spread your legs wider for him.

The wet sounds and his skin slapping against yours had you reeling. You were going to need this all the time again. Your head tipped back and Bradley brought his mouth down to your nipple, sucking hard as you came.

No other man had ever managed to give you three orgasms, let alone three in two hours!

"Oh fuck, Bradley!" you moaned, and you saw his face and neck tense up before going slack. He bottomed out one last time and groaned. His sweaty forehead came to rest against yours, and as you both caught your breath, he kissed you so gently.

"I always did like sharing my clothes with you."

You giggled against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair again while you kissed him.

And this time his cum dripped out onto the desk. Bradley offered to get a washcloth to clean you and the table, but he just stood there, looking at your spread legs and smiling. Finally his eyes snapped up to yours before he went to the bathroom to help you get cleaned up.

"Don't step on the broken lamp," he reminded you as he helped you off the desk and guided you into his arms.

The fact that you ended up eating cold pizza while straddling Bradley Bradshaw on a desk chair in a hotel room was so surreal. You'd have never believed it if someone told you that this morning. But he was kissing your neck and nudging your breasts with his nose between bites, and you were telling him funny stories about your students.

You couldn't remember being this happy in such a long time.

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

You were going to wear him out, and he was one hundred percent here for it. When the pizza was finished, you lured Bradley into the shower with you. He could remember how it felt when you showered together in his fraternity house, and this was just as good.

But now he was afraid he was going to get his heart broken by you a second time. He had dated Miranda for almost a year before ending things two months ago, and she never made him feel this way inside. He had dated you for less than four months ten years ago, but he always kind of felt like he never got over you.

And now it was abundantly clear that he hadn't.

"You okay, Beer Boy?" you asked softly, looking up at him as you ran your fingers through his hair to rinse out the shampoo. "Or maybe I should be calling you Beer Man now?" you asked with a smile. "You're so grown up."

He just shook his head. "I'll always be your Beer Boy, Sugar."

You let your palms come to rest on his cheeks, and you were gently rubbing his mustache again like you did at the bar. "Do you want to be my date for the reunion?"

"Hell yes," he whispered immediately, making you giggle again. "I'd love that."

"Me too," you whispered with a yawn. Bradley turned off the shower and got you bundled up in a towel.

"Here, I grabbed you a toothbrush when I was in the lobby. And you can use anything from my bag there," he said, kissing your cheek and then leaving you in the bathroom with some privacy.

He pulled on some clean boxers and then dug one of his tee shirts out of his bag for you. Oh, he was screwed now. Asking you to sleep over with him was probably a bad decision he would never recover from. But he was having a hard time regretting it at this moment, when you walked naked out of the bathroom and right into his arms.

"I'm chilly," you said with a little pout.

Wordlessly, he pulled the shirt over your head and guided you to the bed once again.

"I'll keep you warm," he promised, climbing into bed behind you. He let you get settled, and then he wrapped his arm around you and acted as your big spoon, something he remembered doing before.

"Will you tell me about flight school and the Navy?" you asked softly as Bradley kissed the back of your neck.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Bradley told you about how cold it was in Rhode Island and how everyone made fun of him for whining about it all winter. You told him that's how you felt in Chicago, too. Then he told you about all of the different places he lived; barracks and apartments and sad rental housing. He told you about the first time he flew an F/A-18 solo. And he tried to describe what it felt like to take off and land on the deck of an aircraft carrier.

He left out the parts where he missed you so much that he occasionally cried and was rather moody, and found it hard to make friends at first. But he did tell you about Nat and Bob and how much he loved his friends now.

Bradley thought you had fallen asleep by how soft and even your breathing was, so he was surprised when you asked him where he lived now.

He gently caressed your side and belly with his big hand, trying to figure out how to tell you where he lived. If you were seriously considering a job at San Diego State University, he didn't want you to know that he lived there and worked at Top Gun.

He had to stop himself from indulging in a fantasy where you chose that school to be near him. Where you wanted to date him again.

No, it was better if you made this decision on your own, because he was also selfish. He didn't want to feel the rejection of telling you where he lived only for you to choose Miami.

"West coast," he whispered, holding you tight as you hummed in response. And now you really were drifting to sleep, and Bradley was drifting off into a dream where you never broke up with him in the first place.

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

They really have a lot they should talk about... Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

PART 3

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