#stopped at some point so i am NOT going back and changing

[politemenacephd]

The Surrogate: Part IV

Miguel O'Hara X Peter B. Parker X GN!Reader (+18) Part one Part Two Part three Series Content: Planned pregnancy, Breeding kink, PinV sex, Oral sex, Threesome, Web knotting, Aftercare, Possible Angst/fluff.

Miguel and Peter want a third child, and apparently they've run out of options. That is, except for you, their friend and colleague. They offer to cover everything, and the pay is life-changing. There's just one catch: they went to concieve naturally.

- One month later-

‘Breakfast! Come on, wakey wakey!

You darted your head towards the door of your bedroom as Peter’s voice drifted through. Was everyone awake already?

You were standing half naked in your own little guest room, one you were very well acquainted with at this point. Your clothes filled the wardrobes and spilled out over the edge of the bathroom hamper, and the bed had your signature messy look to it. Your items were all over the bedside table, the bathroom smelled like your favorite body wash, and you could find your way to bed now even with the light fully off.

You also had been here long enough to know that call, and to know what the morning routine was.

You hurried to pull on some comfortable, lounging clothes before pushing your door open to join the rest of the household.

Peter was in the kitchen behind a smoky stove, busy cooking away for once. You were used to Miguel being the chef around here, at least for the girls. Neither of the boys were very accomplished cooks but they desperately wanted you to believe otherwise.

You could also see two little heads bouncing up and down beside him, heads which immediately homed in on you as you entered.

‘Y/N!’ May squealed, her little socks skidding on the floor as she hurried around the counter.

‘Good morning, ladies’ you said, gently holding out your hands as the girls rushed towards you. You’d gotten used to the way May would squeal and rush to latch onto your leg, and the way Gabriella would politely take your hand and jump up and down as she tried to tell you about her day.

This morning was no exception. The girls both cried for you from the kitchen where they were huddled around Peter, tugging on his trousers as he tried to finish loading up five plates worth of pancakes.

You could see he was sweating over the pan but he had the most infectious, patient smile on his face regardless, dressing in his loose shirt and pants with a tight pink apron around his waist.

As you approached Peter beamed and made a slight ‘oh’ face. ‘Oh, good morning! Hey, watch this’ he called, and without missing a beat he tossed a pancake nearly a meter into the air before catching it again.

‘Come on, am I getting good or am I getting good?’ Peter crowed. He relished in your polite, slightly amused clap and the girl's squeals of excitement.

‘You’re going to make a mess, that’s what you’re doing.’

Miguel’s gruff, smooth voice filled the kitchen as he entered from his and Peter’s bedroom. He was still in his pajamas a common sight for you now, with his hair messy and unkempt and a slight stubble on his jaw. It was a weekend, and he’d just returned from a long and vicious mission, so you understood his desire to relax a little. You knew Peter tried to enforce rest where he could.

‘My love- I made EVERYONE’S plates without spilling a single one!’ Peter protested. He pouted up a storm but still melted when Miguel came up to kiss his temple.

‘Mhm. You got very statistically lucky’ Miguel purred back. ‘Now I’d like you to stop being that luck runs out.’

‘Papa!’

Miguel paused his teasing to scoop up May and Gabriella in both arms, kissing them both on the cheek before carrying them over to the dining table.

‘Yes, good morning mi amors’ he said with a yawn, his face also endlessly patient as the girls patted at his worn, rough face. He even chuckled as May tried to trickle him, showing no response to her patting at his thick neck.

‘Alright, come on, behave. What will our guest think?’ Miguel added as he put the girls down in their chairs. May groaned.

‘They’re not a GUEST anymore! They’ve been here FOREVER!’ she whined.

‘A month isn’t forever’ Miguel said gently, ‘and even if it was forever, would that mean you can still be so rude in front of them?’

‘YEAH! It does! They’re like you and daddy, they have to put up with us’ May insisted.

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle on the sidelines. The girls were so damn charming, it was so hard not to love them. Just like their dads.

‘Alright! Sit, sit down, come on! Chop, chop!’

Peter’s impatient yelling and clapping drove you to rush to your seat, and as you did you got a chance to say good morning to Miguel. He bumped against you as you moved past him to your seat, and you got to watch as his eyes softened and creased. They roamed from your face, to your chest, right down to your belly, and there they lingered before rolling back up.

You felt your heart skip as he smiled.

‘Mi compinche’ he whispered. You snorted at the little nickname he’d given you over the past month, which was mostly a stand-in since they couldn’t really think of what else to call you. ‘Good morning’ he added.

‘Good morning, Migs’ you replied, only to be shoved into your seat by a huffing Peter.

‘Sit DOWN! No respect in this place!’ he groaned while also shoving Miguel into his seat. The man could have overpowered him all too easily but he sank down just to appease his sulking lover.

‘I know, I know. I’m awful to you’ Miguel chuckled as he checked the news on a holographic tablet. Peter snorted and put on a pout.

‘You are! Anyway- good morning you lovely little thing, look at you.’ The moment Peter turned to you his attitude changed, turning into another dorky smile as he laid down the first few plates.

‘Good morning again, Peter’ you replied with a similar chuckle.

You ate breakfast with the family in relative peace. Miguel was quite quiet, busy checking the news and the Spider Society’s daily going-on's while Peter chatted to May about her dreams and to Gabriella about her upcoming soccer game.

Miguel would interject to take notice every so often, still clearly concerned about the girls, but you knew enough now to know he showed affection in a more subdued manner to Peter. You could tell he looked contented though. Surprisingly contented…

‘Alright! Come on, Gabi’s got practise, let's go!’

You were jolted from your daydreaming by Peter’s cry, as the man pushed back his chair and hurried to get the dishes in the sink before herding the girls away.

Ah, right. They’ve got soccer practice, you thought. I’ll be home alone today.

The girls rushed off to get dressed, and while you got up to do the same, you were stopped.

You felt a thick, firm hand on your wrist, which then gently moved down to your fingers as if the person realized they were being a little too aggressive. You turned already knowing who it was.

‘Hey, hermosa/o’ Miguel said, his voice low and sweet. You smiled up at him.

‘Hey! What’s up? Is it—’

Before you could finish speaking you felt him slip something into your open hand, forcing you to grasp it. It felt like… a little cardboard box?

You rolled it around in your hand, your face growing more and more confused. It was long and thin, you could feel the soft raised brail points on its edge…

‘It- what is this?’ you whispered after a few moments of confused pause.

Miguel met your gaze with glimmering, bright red eyes. They were overflowing with excitement.

‘Pregnancy test’ he whispered, like it was the most inane thing in the world. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to stop yourself from instinctively touching your belly.

‘You- wait, already?’ you whispered back.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed as he licked his fang, offering just a soft, almost amused grunt of confidence. ‘Mm, compinche, I already told you. The first time will have done it. You were ovulating then, it should have been enough time to show up. So, go on.’

You found your chest growing oddly tight. Already? You were already expected to be pregnant?

Miguel seemed to sense your insecurity, as his own brows went up, but before he could ask if you were okay, you smiled back and nodded.

‘Okay! Sure, no problem. I’ll um- I’ll check it this afternoon, whenever I need to pee, I guess. And- we’ll see’ you replied, quickly soothing his worries.

Miguel beamed down at you, and god it almost hurt. He looked so proud of you.

‘Mil gracias, mi compinche’ he purred back.

…

You stared down at the little test your hands, sitting alone in the en-suite to your temporary room in Miguel’s apartment. It was isolated here, and you’d hoped it would be quiet, but you could still hear May and Gabi playing in the living room just a few doors away.

One line. Just one line on the thin blue test in your grip. You let out a slight sigh of disappointment.

It had only been a month, that’s what you kept telling yourself, as your mind swirled.

It’d only been a month. Why, then, did it bother you so much?

You’d waited until the afternoon to take the test, as you’d somehow been too nervous to pee. You’d drunk nearly three gallons of water beforehand but only now had it worked, and only when the whole family happened to be home again after soccer practice.

You’d hoped to have time to prepare. Either to mentally prepare for this outcome or to prepare a surprise for the positive lines.

But now…

You crept out of the bathroom and peered into the living room. You could see Miguel and Peter were trying to teach May how to use her new web shooter to knock little plush toys off of the coffee table, while Gabi was mischievously throwing items in her way to distract her as she tried to web those instead.

You heard them laughing, and cheering.

Your stomach turned. Oh god. Were you about to ruin the good mood?

You slowly, shyly, closed the door, right as Miguel glanced at it.

You couldn’t stand to face them yet.

You lost track of time pacing in the bedroom, going back and forth over the fine wood flooring until it squeaked. How did you tell them? It wasn’t a big deal, right? It was normal, this was normal, but they’d made it seem like you SHOULD be pregnant right now.

Oh god, what if they were disappointed? What if they hated you? What if they thought you weren’t good enough for this?

You hated feeling this way about your friends, but you’d gotten so comfortable here, so happy, so content, and now… You remembered that you were here for a job. A serious job. And, it already felt like you’d failed…

‘Compinche?’

You jumped in place, your spine chilling at that familiar voice. You spun in place and found both Peter and Miguel in the doorway.

‘Heeyy, pretty thing, just- can we, come in?’ Peter said softly, his eyes as desperate as a puppy.

Your heart sank. You couldn’t exactly tell them no…

‘Ah- sorry, yeah, come in’ you murmured. The boys took the opportunity right away, swiftly shifting the door at their backs as they crossed the room towards you.

Miguel looked ecstatic but impatient. He seemed surprised you hadn’t told them the moment you came out of the bathroom, confused as to why you weren’t screaming and jumping for joy about his new baby.

Oh god, why, why, why…

‘Look, hey, we have to get ready for dinner, but… We wanted to ask first…’

Miguel approached with his hands outstretched, the softest smile spreading across his face as he implored you. Peter was beaming at his back.

‘It’s okay, the girls can find out later’ he added gently when you refused to say a word. Your heart sank. God, it hurt so bad. He was expecting it already, like he was so sure it’d worked. He assumed you must just be shy about these things.

You couldn’t get the words out. It was too hard. You paused, and then slowly you shook your head. You held up the little test to show the single line instead.

The way Miguel’s face changed was agony. The way his lips jittered, like he was forcing them to stay up. The way his body tensed and lowered. The way his shoulders just… deflated.

He was fixed on that line like it was his worst enemy, like it was a person who’d personally spat in his face. He paused and went silent for just a moment as he wiped a hand down his face, and God, the sigh he let out was like a knife to the chest.

‘Okay’ he whispered.

You pursed your lips into a thin line as you tried to stay calm. Why was this so hard? Why was he taking this so badly? It was just the first time. Still, you couldn’t say it out loud. ‘I… I’m sorry—’

To your surprise he then suddenly pulled you into an embrace, squeezing you tight to his huge chest. You felt so minuscule against his enormous form, tightly clutched in his giant biceps, feeling his pectorals heave as his heart thundered against your cheek.

His heart thundering… His breath a little ragged…

Oh god, he wasn’t mad. He was upset. But, was he upset with you?

‘It’s okay’ he murmured, his chin resting now on the top of your head. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll- try again, we’ll try again. We’ve got time.’

You could only nod awkwardly. This felt almost unfair. Almost nobody just got pregnant within a month of trying, it wasn’t this unusual. While Miguel’s confidence was fun and, in a way, sexy, the real pressure now mounting on you felt incredibly unnecessary.

But then he said something that really made you pause.

‘I can do this.’

I can do this. Not ‘you’ can do this, referring to you, or even ‘we’. I can do this.

He didn’t act mad, at least not towards you. Was he, angry at himself?

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’

Peter was the one who then rushed in and squeezed you so tight your ribs hurt, offering Miguel the same. Miguel was silent as he hugged him back.

‘It’s fine! It’s the first month, these things happen. It might even, just uh- show up next week, actually. Maybe it’s a little early. But either way, it’s normal. It’s fine. Nobody did anything wrong, YOU did nothing wrong mi amor, and neither did you pretty thing’ Peter said, softly tutting sympathetically as he saw the pain in your eyes.

Miguel remained silent.

‘We’ll try again tonight’ he repeated with a gruff tone, lightly rolling his shoulders as he forced that stoic, calm expression to fill his face. Peter’s smile faltered a little.

‘Is that, okay with you?’

As he turned to you, you nodded desperately. ‘Yeah! Of course, it—’

‘It is REALLY okay with you?’ Miguel said, his voice suddenly sounding oddly vulnerable and concerned. ‘I don’t- Ah, I’m sorry’ he said through gritted teeth, wiping a hand down his face. ‘I don’t- I know I’m, putting pressure on you, it’s not my intention. I’m sorry. I am. Just… are you really okay to try again tonight?’

You paused only for a moment in the face of his big, soft, puppy eyes, before nodding.

‘Yeah- yeah! Yeah. I am. I’m fine to go again. We’ll start again, I’ll- track my periods, I’ll take the injections, it- it’ll be fine.’

Peter’s sympathetic face turned into a grateful mess as his lip quivered, and Miguel too had his brows turn up with a look of what could only be pride.

‘… Thank you, compinche’ Miguel murmured. He put a hand on your head, ruffling your hair before pulling back with a melancholic huff. ‘Thank you.’

The two men left you as the girls started screaming for their attention. You watched Peter put a silent hand on Miguel’s back, as if propping him up when he barely had the strength to do so, before the two stepped out as if nothing had happened.

You remained, alone, in your room. This was going to be a long night. 

…

That evening you waited for Miguel and Peter to visit, and sure enough they appeared the moment the girls were asleep.

Miguel came in already half naked in just his pajama pants, while Peter was wearing his full loungewear. The two looked a lot less hopeful than they did the first night you’d been in this situation.

You gulped, trying not to show how nervous you were.

‘Peter, mi amor.’

Miguel addressed Peter first before you, his eyes glancing to his partner as you sat alone on the mattress. Peter glanced at you then at him.

‘Yes?’

‘Mm… We’ll, both do it, right?’ he said softly, a fang flashing beneath his lip as he licked his teeth. Peter nodded quickly. ‘Yes, if- they want that.’

‘Ah… guys?’

You couldn’t stop yourself from speaking up as they glanced at each other, but when they looked down at you in unison you felt the lump in your throat grow.

You were a mess of arousal and nerves, far worse than the last night. The sight of those huge men, powerful and relying on you, with those soft brown eyes and dark red eyes both peering at you like meat in the dim light, you felt your body stiffen.

‘Sorry, I—’

‘No, no don’t apologize.’ Miguel raised his hand and gently cut you off. He looked strained over something, but when he spoke to you, he was as gentle as ever. ‘You’re fine. It’s okay, just- We were saying, I wanted Peter to help with the, uh, foreplay first before getting into it, since…’

Miguel paused and glanced at Peter again, who gently nodded for him to continue. ‘He’s… agreed, I will be the only one having sex, with you, tonight’ Miguel said after a small pause, his voice dripping as it slipped from his lips.

You blinked in surprise at that. It’d just be Miguel tonight? Even after the bad news with the baby? Surely they’d both want to be taking turns even more now.

‘I… Oh, sure, no that’s- fine, that’s fine’ you murmured.

‘It’s not because I don’t want to’ Peter said, offering an awkward tease in the face of the weird tension filling the bedroom. ‘Trust me, I uh- would love to, but, papi here requested it.’

You glanced up at Miguel and saw that same look in his eye you’d seen before, that dark, red, glowering glare that seemed both so overly confident and so insecure at the same time. It was a look of desperation, a look of need. You felt his eyes on you like a drowning man swimming towards a pocket of air.

What had gotten into him?

You breathed in deeply and slowly nodded.

‘Yeah, of course. That’s fine. That’s, fine. I’m fine with that’ you reply slowly.

Miguel gave a curt nod, a contended, affectionate nod, and without another word, he crawled onto the bed.

As Miguel descended on you, he stank of hormones. He had a dark expression, one clouded with testosterone and primal need, and it was like that need was seeping through his pores, coating his rough, scarred skin in a light sheen of pure virility.

When he flexed his veins popped on his forearms, his biceps tight and round. He didn’t even need to speak for you to back down, cowering on your chest as he put his nose to your neck. He breathed in deep, and you shivered.

‘Mm… Okay, we’ll do your favorite, si?’ Miguel purred against your nape. You nodded.

‘Yeah, y-yeah—AH!’

You squeaked as Miguel lifted your hips without even moving his face or body. He spread your legs by slipping his muscled arm between your thighs and lifting you by the cunt, raising your hips about a foot from the mattress, allowing Peter to slide down beneath your pussy.

‘Good’ Miguel purred against your neck again. ‘Good, good.’

‘That’s it, pretty little thing, come down gently now. Don’t you worry about suffocating me either, if you do it’d be an honor’ Peter said as he carefully took over maneuvering your hips from Miguel. The larger man released your soft, wet vulva from his grip with a soft grunt, and Peter took the weight with both his hands.

He breathed on you a few times, teasing just a little as he blew hot air against your swollen clit, but he could only hold off for so long.

With a low moan, he dropped your pussy onto his face.

‘A-AH! Ahh, f-fuck’ you whimpered.

Peter moaned as he began swirling his tongue, eagerly sucking and slathering your clit with all the love he could muster, while Miguel moved his hand back down and carefully shifted it through the folds until he found your entrance.

He didn’t waste time on ceremony. He slipped one finger in, pumped, dragging the soft side of his finger right down your g-spot, then withdrew and replaced it with two fingers.

You screamed. You could do nothing else. The walls were thankfully very soundproofed, so it wasn’t an issue, but even if it had been you weren’t sure you’d have had the strength to stop.

‘OH- O-OH MY, GOD, FUCK!’

Between Miguel’s thick, calloused fingers pumping in and out and Peter eagerly making out with your clit in the messiest way possible, you melted into absolute putty in their hands.

Miguel grinned. You felt it against your neck, his lips pulling back and his sharp teeth bumping your nape as he breathed. His breath was hot, potent, desperate.

He began to move his fingers harder. With each pump you got a little looser, a little wetter, and soon his fingers were squelching as they moved in and out.

‘Good, come on. That’s it, baby’ Miguel whispered against your ear. He was commanding you like a horse, like an animal to be trained, and it did something to you. ‘Go on, that’s it. Loosen up. It’ll make it easier.’

‘U-Uh, f-fucckkk, fuck—’

Your eyes rolled as Miguel pulled back a little and pulsated his fingers at about halfway, keeping the tips on your g-spot. Peter, sensing the movement, quickly moved to suck on your clit at exactly the right time.

With a dull, frantic cry you orgasmed for the both of them, your body shaking with the strain of every muscle slowly tightening and then releasing with that heavy wave of pleasure. Peter dragged your hips down until you were crushing him, cutting off all his air just so he could get his tongue right up into your cunt, tasting every inch of that orgasm as it quivered to a stop.

Miguel let his fingers stay just long enough to feel it, to help squish some of those precious juices down for Peter to taste, before abruptly pulling out.

Your body was limply rolled off of Peter’s face and onto the bed, still on your front, and after supplying a few soft, soothing pets and gruff praise Miguel moved to whisper at Peter.

‘I’m going now. Okay?’ he hissed.

Peter was barely lucid. His eyes were glazed over, his lips and face red and wet, and his cock was hard and throbbing in his loose pants to the point he had to half-heartedly adjust them, pawing at his own erection with a soft whine.

‘O-Okay, ah… I- can I—’

‘Yes, mi amor, you can watch and satisfy yourself. Or, you can wait for me to be done and—’

‘No. No, lemme- watch’ Peter whined, a dreamy smile spreading over his face. ‘Uh… I should take some pictures of this sometime…’

Miguel grunted, not even really focused on him anymore. All he could sense was you, all he could smell was you. His breedable friend, his baby machine, the foundation of all his pride.

He crawled over and pulled your hips up into doggy before mounting from behind.

‘Now… I’m going to fuck you’ Miguel said, his voice slow and thick. ‘You understand?’

‘Y-Yes’ you whimpered.

‘You want me to fuck you?’

‘Y-Yes…’

‘I’m going to fuck you multiple times. I will ejaculate into you, multiple times. I will not let you lose any of it. You understand this?’

‘Y-Yess…’

‘It’s going to be rough’ he groaned, pressing the tip of his erect cock right against your sodden entrance. ‘Very rough.’

‘Yes…’

‘I will stop. But if you can take it—’

‘I can… take it, please, just… uh… do it’ you moaned.

Miguel sneered with pleasure. His pride bristled, and without wasting another second he spread your cunt with his fingers and shoved his cock inside.

You were winded by the force, and winded a second time by his refusal to start slow. The moment his erection slid up and kissed your cervix he was pumping like mad, grunting like an animal as he thrust his hips back and forth.

You were forced to moan into the sheets as you struggled to maintain any control. He was slipping himself all the way out, so far that only his bulbous member was left to stretch your entrance, before slipping back in within barely a second, stretching you out over and over.

You felt the soft walls stretching, expanding, tensing, and quivering in response to his intrusion, as he made your body his, as he molded you for his purpose.

And he made that purpose clear.

‘Need to… cum… Mmm… need to, fill you… put my baby in here…’

Miguel’s barely coherent grunts filled your ears as he bent your spine and slapped his pelvis into your rear, making the skin hot and raw where he hit it.

‘My… baby…. Mine… m-mine… you’re…. mine…!’

His grunting got wilder, rougher, and between that and your own moaning there was a third voice filling the bedroom. You glanced over, and through the sweaty strands of hair covering your eyes, you saw him.

Peter was watching, as promised, lazily spread out as he stroked and fisted his own cock. It was a gorgeous side, with his pajama pants just down to his thighs and his hand eagerly massaging his member.

And his eyes were fixed on you.

You felt the heat rising in your belly from this, as you were held down and pumped by that enormous, grunting, red-eyed man while his partner watched and stroked himself.

You made eye contact with Peter just for a moment, as he watched your sweaty face taking his partner's load, and with a shuddered groan he came.

You watched his eyes roll back and his lips part as he ejaculated into his own palm. God, what a pretty sight. There was so much of it, thick and slick and glossy in the dim light, coating his fingers and belly. It made you involuntarily clench your cunt around Miguel.

‘Y-You, AH-!’

You squeaked as Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting harder as he also climaxed. You felt his claws digging into your hips as he humped that first load in as deep as he could, ensuring it filled every damn inch of your pussy, smothering the walls until they were practically stuck together.

As he rocked to a halt you took a moment to breathe. There. That was good, he’d done it. And he—

‘Uh- come on!’

You squeaked in shock as Miguel began to rock his hips again, barely a second after he was done ejaculating. He continued to pump just as hard, pushing you face-first into the mattress as sweat flew from his brow.

‘Come on…. Come on…’

It was like a mantra he hissed to himself, as he overrode his brain's desire to rest. There was no rest. There was only breeding. There was only you, and that womb, that he NEEDED to fill.

‘Come on- come on- come on-‘

Your soft cries were barely audible over the creaking of the bed, over the aggressive slap of his pelvis as it thrust and smacked into your rear until it went numb.

‘COME ON- UHN—’

You felt Miguel’s whole body stiffen and release as he pumped that second load in. The hot, thick fluid seeped out and put even more pressure on your insides, forcing those soft muscular walls to strain. You squirmed a little.

‘M-Mmm, mm…’

No, no, you could take it. You could take it.

Miguel paused to grunt, his face now dripping with sweat and his thighs trembling from the pleasure of two ejaculations so close together, but even then he refused to stop.

You could only respond with a squeak as Miguel started pumping you all over again, violently rocking his hips as he pushed through the overstimulation and went for loads three.

‘AH! A-Ah—’

You tugged on the sheets so hard they nearly ripped as he thrust from behind, the smack of his hips letting out a dull, heavy thump that ripped through the room. He was groaning so hard, spitting and hissing involuntarily, his claws digging into your hips as he dragged you back against his cock.

‘Uh- uh- uh- uh- UH- UH- UH- !”

Thrust, after thrust, after mind-numbing thrust, until—

‘ARGH! F-FUCK!’

Miguel cried out weakly as he orgasmed for the third time in a row. He moved primally as he did so, his body bucking despite his exhaustion as he tried to pump it deep. You could only whimper.

You felt this load just like the others, in all of its terrifying potency. That thick, wet, hot seed spilling out and coating you from the inside, pressed right to your cervix with no escape. He was holding you against his pelvis and refusing to pull out, almost like some kind of basic form of knotting.

‘Hey, hey, big guy.’

As Miguel knelt over you, sweating and heaving, his chest dripping and slick, Peter crept up and gently gripped his shoulders. 

‘Hey, it’s okay. Take a breather’ he whispered.

‘Need, to… need to, prove…’

Miguel continued slowly rocking his hips, pushing past the overstimulation until his muscles were tensed and aching. He kept moving inside you, squishing until his cum started to slip out, which only drove him more mad.

He moved his hand down and used it to squish the little white drops back inside, all with his fat shaft still impaling you in place. You whimpered at the sudden extra intrusion.

‘Need to… Impregnate.. God, damn it..’

‘Miggy, hey…’ Peter continued stroking Miguel’s forehead as he continued rocking back and forth, pushing you until you whined. The pressure was immense. His cock, three loads

‘Give them a break, then.’

That seemed to snap Miguel out of his trance. He glanced down with those hazy red eyes and he saw you spread out beneath him, trembling from the strain of being taken so many times so fast. He saw the sweat on your skin, the shimmering glow on your skin, and the wetness of your parted lips.

Almost immediately he released his grip.

‘I… Mierda, I’m so sorry—’

‘No, I’m… f-fine…’ you whimpered. ‘I’m, not hurt…’

‘No, but, you are clearly exhausted’ Peter cooed softly. ‘It’s okay. If we really want to try again, we can, just… let’s rest.’

‘But—’

‘I know’ Peter whispered softly, his own melancholy seeping through. ‘I know. You both want this baby. A lot. I know. I want it too. But this isn’t going to change anything. So let’s just, rest for a moment, and go again. Okay?’

At that moment, Peter was the gentle voice of reason for both of you.

Miguel let out a soft grunt, but he did pull out slowly, making sure to keep his fingers and palm stuffed in the little swollen entrance between your thighs to keep his seed safely intact. You allowed your body to collapse into the sheets with a sigh.

His fingers made you jolt and whine on occasion, but, you could handle that.

The three of you lay back and moaned softly, trying to catch your breath, with Peter hugging both of you close.

As Peter held you, you couldn’t help but glance over at Miguel just a little, though you tried to keep your gaze hidden.

You were so confused by the insecurity you’d sensed in him. There was no other way to put it. Before he’d been so confident, so sure, so calm, like he was just messing around, but now… There was an urgency in his movement.

There was a need. That was the best word for it. But, it wasn’t just a need to get you pregnant. Not now.

There was a need to prove himself.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x peter #miguel x y/n #threes0me

[lixielovess]

"and i still dont care, i only care about you and how you feel. if it meant that I'd have to kill everyone in the world except for you and then myself just to prove that i love you, then I'll do so."

hyunjin x fem!chubby!reader

warnings: reader is insecure about her body, implied ED, swearing

genre: angst, fluff

hyunjin was a childhood friend of yours, you always hung out with him and you enjoyed being around him. but you were always considered the 'ugly' friend by your other friends, sometimes your family and you yourself agreed sometimes.. ofcourse he never did, he thought you were absolutely beautiful, tough he never said it.

when you were in junior high school, you could never be friends with anyone without someone shipping you two, but with you.. everyone always considered it as a joke. like you were a joke, people kept teasing hyunjin about liking you and he always denied it, and you believed him. he was never harsh about it he was genuinely nice, he was always polite with it but it always seemed to hurt you. you loved him, and deep down he knew he liked you aswell.

he was the handsome popular guy and you were just another one of his fangirls who just happened to be one of his friends. though you did have girl friends alot of girls seemed to hate you because you were friends with hyunjin, saying that you only hung out with him to distract yourself from how fugly you actually are. and honestly you thought the same, it was to the point you starved yourself and had to go to the hospital because you didn't eat the normal amount of food a healthy person should eat for about a month, but despite not eating almost anything at all you still looked like that.

and suddenly when you were in highschool in senior year when in the schools garden, he stood infront of you, bouquet in hand looking straight into your eyes "y/n y/l/n i-... i loved you.. i always have.. so please-" you cut him off. "is this some sort of joke..?" he froze up, confused, time seemed to stop as he just stared at you completely confused "what?"

"did one of your friends force you to do this? did you lose a bet? do you think its funny 'confessing' to the ugly chubby girl?" you we're used to it, guys confessing to you, going out with you because it was a dare or a jokey joke. but its happened to you over and over again for too many times to the point where you couldn't tell the difference between that and the real thing... and when someone actually had feelings, that someone being hyunjin, you turned him down because you didn't trust anyone that said they liked you, either way if it was true or not.

"Y/n-" "save it." angry tears welled up in your eyes as he just stared at you in disbelief "listen! please- im not joking! i genuinely do-" you grit your teeth, holding in your tears as you try not to break down sobbing "i thought you were my friend, hyunjin."

"i am! and i want us to be more than that-"

"Liar! you don't like me, i know you don't. you denied it since we were 10 and even until now you still do. feelings don't change overnight. i cant believe i thought you were my friend, never talk to me again you piece of shit" you ran off into somewhere, you dont know where you just walked. a few hours later you somehow arrived home, you waltzed into your room and just locked yourself in there.

days go by and you return to school completely ignoring him, everytime he came to talk to you, you just brushed him off like he was nothing.

your friends still hung out with him, and they brought you along when they hung out with him, but what else could you do? not hang out with your friends who've known you for years..? no. eventually you forgave him and tolerated him, and started hanging out with eachother more and more.

it wasn't until recently when you guys were alone, he took your hand and looked straight into your eyes when he confessed, again. "i.. i just wanted you to know that it wasnt a joke, i genuinely did love you back then and i didn't care about how you looked you were absolutely beautiful regardless. and i still dont care, i only care about you and how you feel. if it meant that I'd have to kill everyone in the world except for you and then myself just to prove that i love you, then I'll do so."

#stray kids #hwang hyunjin #stray kids angst #hyunjin x reader #skz x you #writing

[starrbitez]

Why Morty Smith is “like a dog” (pun unintended)

Okay so i saw a post (I’ll link it in comments!) that was talking about how Rick is more like a dog than Morty, and I definitely agree that Rick is similar to a dog too, I am going to discuss my personal opinions on Morty’s dog-like symbolism, parallels with snuffles/snowball, and my own ideas for the dog analogy. It begins below the cut :3

Firstly, there are some parallels between Morty and his former fluffy companion I think are important and very interesting !

One example, Morty is treated very similarly by Rick to the way Jerry treats Snowball. See; Rick pushing Morty down the stairs, Jerry rubbing snowball’s face in his pee. Both unnecessary punishments or just entirely unnecessary.

Morty is also threatened emptily a lot, in the way that an owner might threaten their dog when they do something bad, ie. “we’ll take you back to the shelter or replace you if you dont stop peeing on the rug,” and the replaceable nature that abusive pet owners exemplify towards their dogs is the exact same treatment Morty gets, with the you’re replaceable almost ‘I’ll take you back to the shelter’ threats Rick gives.

Morty is treated like a dog constantly, and while all Morty’s are on some level imo, Pmorty is the most. When Rick takes the voucher for a free replacement Morty — it’s like getting a discount on a rescue dog or picking up a stray when your dog dies.

Then, morty is talked down to like a dog, just like how Jerry talks to snowball.

Morty: whats wrong?

Jerry: your idiot dog! …. Don’t praise him Morty, he peed on the carpet! Bad dog, bad!

Rick: youre a perfect suit of impenetrable armor, Morty! because you’re as dumb as I am smart!

And then,

Morty: look rick, there’s a bunch of people strapped to that building!

Rick: Not people morty. Mortys.

At this point in the show (s1e10) Rick doesn’t even consider Mortys to be human, and he values Morty about the same amount that Jerry valued snowball — little to nothing, simply valued to feel superior over something.

I also think that in Rest and Ricklaxation, healthy morty and toxic morty are two opposite and extreme sides of the spectrum of dog-like behavior. While normal morty is loyal to a fault, he still his has own morals and enough personal confidence to argue with rick and engage in adventures. There’s a clear divide in his character in many episodes where he see his more violent tendencies, and in this episode you can see a split between his more “feral” side and his “domesticated” side. Healthy Morty is a sort of lone-wolf, he believes that health is being able to survive on your own, be strong and completely confident to an almost selfish and narcissistic point, and he desires to be a leader. Toxic Morty sees himself as weak, and he says that he just wants to die. He feels like the runt of the litter, left behind and clinging to the first person that offers him protection — rick. When combined, morty is somewhere in the middle, but the separate parts are opposite sides of dog-like behavior.

OKAY now im going to talk abt my SNOWBALL PARALLELS a bit more….

When snowball realizes how he is being treated, on some level gaining sentience, he starts to develop his intelligence, get stronger, more independent, rebel against the people who treated him like shit and took advantage of him. Snowball realizes how he is being treated and he does everything he can to prove he is intelligent, but out of his care and loyalty to morty, he leaves because he wants morty to live and be happy !!! Sound familiar?

Yes it is the exact same track as Morty’s character development.In season 3 episode 7 after the dinner with evil morty, morty realizes he is being manipulated, that he is replaceable, that he is just someones property. He gains ‘sentience’ or the conciousness of his free will ? Kinda. And from here on we see Morty’s attitude change significantly, asserting himself over rick often in season 4. Morty joins in on the intro, he leaves rick to die, he focuses on himself, he becomes more violent and more in control of his own decisions. In season 4 we see him become independent from ricks control, but he is still loyal and wants rick to be happy, the same loyalty snowball had to the one person who treated him right.

Snowball had an attachment to morty because morty was the only one to treat him well.

Morty has an attachment to rick because rick is the only one who gives him praise, albeit irregularly. He gets attention from rick. Morty is continuously in vulnerable or weaker positions to those around him, and i believe it is symbolism !! I think its even in subtle ways like when rick will pat morty on the head, call him ‘buddy’, rick even outright compares morty to a dog with his unwavering loyalty. Which — just like a dog — he was bred for.

I think the acknowledgement of morty being similar to a dog in his loyalty, his obedience, but also in his parallels to snowball align well with the citadel plot of Mortys being bred for forgiveness. Only when the Mortys. Become aware of their treatment and how they could be better, they start to change into a more violent/feral/intelligent/confident form, depending on the Morty. Intelligence seen in evil morty and c-137, feral behavior in the mutated morty’s on the citadel who are aware of their position And the corruption around them.

I think we are in track for morty to become more and more of an independent kid, following in the footsteps of snowball and developing his intelligence, confidence, ad strength until he will possibly leave or find independence from his codependency on rick, just like snowball was able to escape his codependency on humanity in general. (Interesting to think abt how Beth and Jerry have a codependent marriage and rick and morty have a codependent partnership… v interesting)

But yes . These are my thoughts on morty smith c-137 and the general theme of Mortys being a dog. For more info read my fic, like a dog. Jkjkjk B)

Pls pls tell me ur opinions on this !!

#rick and morty #rick n morty #morty smith #morty #rnm #rick sanchez #evil morty #toxic morty #rick and morty analysis #analysis #i was going to do my homework but i got distracted and spent like 45 minutes on this #anyway. morty dog #fanfic #meow !

[xiaoluclair]

rules: post 10 of your favorite movies and tag 10 people.

@carronyaflowers i feel fuzzy you thought of me, thank you dear 🌺💛🌹 . i have not checked who has already done it but tagging @art-emi-s @cupidskissx @f-ferrari-forever @sennaverstappen @mv-one @leclercpiastri @milfalonso @reigningmax @drivestraight @noelleidle @sunshine-5eb 💙

in no particular order:

om shanti om — if you haven’t heard of this movie, i can only presume you live in an oil-seasoned fried potato or you were conceived two weeks ago.

tenet — dawg even the title is one of the best details. ten minutes forward - ten minutes back

the princess and the frog — the nostalgia (early teens – present day)

x-men: first class — we will fight them on the beaches (derogatory), goddamn i love these peaches (affectionate).

white chicks — witty, well–executed, hits every single note you could want, and would cause rotten eggs (280 character riots) to be thrown in the streets (twitter) if made and released in today’s society. truly s–tier.

little miss sunshine — there isn’t a better well–rounded soft–core movie out there. it has everything: road trip, death, toxic mentalities, dancing, body image, homosexuality, suicide, ice cream.

the deadpools — fourth wall breaks, a very bent main main character person, and decisions i don’t yell at the screen for (kill the raging adult, save the raging kid – sympathy is for the weak, children could make you good money one day).

captain america: the winter soldier — the movie that makes me believe in a better marvel. flesh on flesh fight scenes, soundtrack (i'll admit it's not httyd level score but it's very fitting), relationship developments (CHILDHOOD LOVERS TO WHATEVER TF THIS IS HELLOOO), and excellente pace. and there is P L O T.

star trek aos (2009) — 🚨🌈 if you want one of the greatest enemies to lovers sci fi futuristic stories, say no more. they’re literally the only two people mentioned in every summary of the film because they’re joint–protagonists of lurvvv. they truly did stay true to the og and using a BLACKHOLE to still plant their plot apart from said og?? you gotta respect that. (i get very Unwell over this if it wasn’t clear.)

3 idiots — “maybe cinema can't save lives. but cinema, sure as hell, can make you feel life is worth living.”

#anyway so i just procrastinated on doing anything by making crappy but fun gifs #also i kept thinking of more and more movies that make me even MORE unwell than the ones i've listed here but the procrastination must be #stopped at some point so i am NOT going back and changing #mmkay BAYe #im goona go idk #sleep or smth #xiao: waffle #waffle: miscellaneous #tag game #LOVE U ALL #oha nd thank you dear for the tag ily <33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333 #and yes i’ve just realized i can’t count

[oscill4te]

I know journaling is helpful esp if you have memory problems, i always avoid looking back at my journals honestly. but damn.. Reading my 2022 shits been so painful.

2023 genuinely was a much better year even if did spend much of it cooped inside my room, looking at a screen. Hoping for an even better 2024. I know its only October but hey. Im always jumping ahead a few months mentally. It may as well be winter already as far as Im concerned. I want to get this winter over with. I feel very hopeful for 2024 for some reason

#2023 is good its just a very hazy blur. i was thinking not using weed would help but nah. ive always been like this #weed didnt make my memory worse its always been shit it seems #reading these entries like “when did that even happen..?” #there are a lot of things in my life I want to change #im just glad i stopped using weed. looking at my 2022 experiences is kind of... making me feel compassion :( #weed dependency + risky sx was my escapism go-to in 2022 and now in 2023 it is cartoons and loud music #i think its safe to say i am gettint better. im learning to appreciate life again without being high. i got out of an abusive relationship #im focusing on me. maybe to a very unhealthy degree. but im doing things that make me happy when i can. im cooking amazing food #im drawing a lot. increasing communication w alters. working on how to handle my cptsd. im getting better even if it #doesnt look like it #self indulgent but i think i will be happy looking back on this one day. to future E; you got this #and hopefully u won't be doomscrolling in 2024 but even if you are. its so very understandable. lol #only today am i realizing after rereading old diary entries... im genuinely more stable even if it does not look like it #the amount of dissociation it takes for me to stay stable is sad though. id it even genuine stability at that point? im not sure #but im keeping afloat financially. homewise. at work. even if i feel like life is ripping me at the seams sometimes #but who doesn't feel like that #i think its safe to say i am reaching some type of stability. even if it easily crumbles apart. at least it is there.. #txt

[diegoshargrieves]

listening to my parents talk about me is so fucking funny. "she's dealt with us for so long that at this point she's done. she's mentally checked out from having to give a shit about anyone. can you believe how corruptible she is just because she's almost an adult and she thinks that we're not her problem anymore?"

like man you are literally so close. so fucking close.

#no it's not that ive dealt with everyone for my whole life and now im selfish and dont want to give a shit about anyone anymore #its that ive dealt with everyone my entire life ive been an emotional support pillar ive been rotting in this toxic dysfunctional household #ive been a third parent ive stepped in for my dad when he spontaneously decides to be a deadbeat ive supported my mom without fail #whenever shes needed it for years. ive dealt with everyones fits of mania & psychosis & breakdowns & chronic pain & depressive episodes #ive had my mental illness trivialized and belitted and downplayed. im exhausted and traumatized and so fucking burned out #of course it looks like ive given up on everyone from the outside because im struggling !! im struggling mentally and emotionally #and its spilling out in all the wrong ways and they just see it as me letting my anger ruin my character and everyone else around me #they dont care if theres something wrong with me even though im throwing out signs and cries for help literally wherever i can #they just care that theyre affected by it and inconvenienced by my deteriorating mental condition #they think this mentally ill freak is just what i am at this point and they cant stop emotionally blackmailing me #by reminiscing about how i used to be so kind and optimistic. i wish they would just fucking see me for once #ive played the role of the good emotional support eldest daughter my entire life. why didnt they think it would blow up at some point #and when i have tried opening up in moments of severe emotional vulnerability they just throw it back in my face later on #while simultaneously telling me i just need to change my outlook on life because im still young and cant define myself by childish problems #mom you are depressed and anxious you should recognize it better than anyone. you should be able to see it for what it is #instead of telling me to go spend a week volunteering at a cancer hospital so i can go see what real problems exist for people in the world #and what other people are going through and maybe ill come out with a new appreciation for life #mom just bc people are dying of cancer doesnt mean i can't be depressed just bc other people have it worse doesnt mean i cant have it bad #im so fucking tired! #3 am vent post yippee i am going to regret oversharing on the internet so badly when i wake up tmrw

[entropys]

:-) things are getting better september truly is a month of new beginnings

#yesterday i went out to the grocery store late at night and bought so much yogurt i think that was my turning point i am forever changed #and today i went to the mall with my mom and bought myself a pair of sunglasses that i really wanted for so long #and the guy that works there recognized me 😭😭😭😭 #i went there before to buy my cousin a graduation gift and honestly i came back bc i wanted the same ones i got for her they’re so cool #anyway the staff recognized me and gave me a special discount bc im a ‘regular’ even tho this is only my second time buying from them 🥹🥹 #that was so nice of him bc if it wasnt for that dicount i probably wouldnt have bought the sunglasses bc theyre a bit pricey for my budget #anyway i got them 🥹 so im feeling a bit better #also! i bought myself a little rice cooker for one serving so i don’t starve and stop ordering so much food that i don’t have money for #i think this month is spending on myself month #and tomorrow im going out to celebrate my friend’s birthday 🥰🥰 we’re going to a bakery then to a museum and im bringing my camera with me <3 #recently i’ve fixed my 10 year old camera and its so perfect i love it so much i found a manual online and im gonna learn how to properly #use all the effects and settings it has #i bought it with my mom in 2013 and honestly we picked the best design ever it looks so coooool god i love my little camera im taking it #everywhere with me 🥹💛💛 #anyway .. the last episode of uncanny counter 2 aired today 🥲🥲🥲 im gonna make myself some rice in my new rice cooker and watch it 🫶 #then i’ll take a warm shower and finish off my friends bday gift #im making them a crochet cat keychain i hope it comes out well #alsoooo LETTERS WITH NOTES OUT TOMORROW im soooo excited i love you september #anyway i came here to talk about my week bc it was nice :-) i hope everyone’s september is going well too <3

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#some reflections on 2022 as a year bc im bored and tired mostly prob bc my hormones r fucked up #ill b real. it was not a great one. not the worst i guess. that award goes to 2016 when i was a junior in undergrad and i was spiraling #and i did kno y it was happening so it was scary. now at least i kno why mostly but i think ive experienced the most soul rattling cosmic #despair in this year just bc i pushed and pushed to the point of destruction and i mean i have a history of doing that but i never wanted #to like quit before like as in fucking quit my job and just fucking break things. its weird. and ive got that panic feeling now #its the same one i get when ive been in therapy for a while and nothings helping. and i keep thinking: help me help me someone make this #stop bc i dont want to b like this anymore and i dont kno what to do. bc i was hoping a break would heal me and that would b enough but #the fears been creaping in the past few days bc deadlines and projects snd i havent done anything i need to and i still just want to give #up. ugh. im probably just feeling melodramatic bc i overextended socially yesterday. but idk what to do. hope for a better year i guess #at least i kno i wont b living where i am in 8 to 10 months. so change is coming but things r still up in the air #and i mean 2023 wont b off to a great start bc i have to go to lunch with my grandparents and i dont want to #why? bc i think theyre bad ppl. and itll just b me. and i dont kno for how long ill b there. #my last day home and i have to spend time with them. i shoulf b working on a manuscript. i should b doing that now #but instead im laying here trying not to cry. i just wanna go to sleep. less than 48hrs and ill b back to the desert #feeling a little better maybe but idk all is not well #so yea hopefully 2023 will b a bit better #unrelated

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Maybe I just miss havin someone else to blame

#i feel so fucking useless. worthless. i had ONE job n instead i fucked it up n crossed that one line i can't uncross #he'll never forgive me n it's all my own damn fault #don't know how to cope with how there's no way back now. he doesn't even want me anymore he just wants to hurt me #n i kinda wanna let him cause it's all i was ever any good for anyway #just. lie back n let him take it all out on me. as if he ever made it that easy #god what the hell is wrong with me this is fucking pathetic #he was the only one that could make my head quiet the only one i could always go back to. even if he made me regret it every time #i don't know how to change any of this. it can't always be like this can it? somethin's gotta change at some point right? #i need to stop gettin so fucking wasted i make a fool outta myself but. i only feel even sorta okay if i'm drunk #what the fuck am i supposed to do? #i just wanna go home. i thought things would get better now that i'm technically free of him but. i still feel the same. or worse #at least i could keep myself numb most of the time. n i had cherri n nuggs. everyone feels so fucking far away here #n it's probably me not them but. idk how to change anythin. everythin's just wrong. #everythin's always wrong #i'm so fucking tired n sleep doesn't change a fucking thing #i guess maybe val was right. there's nothin out here for someone like me. what he gave me was the best i could get n i shoulda just m #*appreciated it instead of always complaining #idk how long i can keep myself from goin back to him. just to see if he can still make it all go away. even if i'll probably regret it. #fucking hell how long can i keep this up?? i can't start drinkin more i can't damage this body like that for the others #but i'm startin to run really low on options #spdrvent

[taupewolfy]

ring fit yay ring fit one of my favourite rpgs yay < post-workout shower glow

#i am. going to be feeling it tomorrow #tbh i actually went for longer on excersises i usually struggle with #and FOR SOME REASON i always leave this game on the world boss so this time i just did the boss instead of leaving it #usually go until the game says 'hey want to stop here' #i only used to go past that point back when i did fencing because my endurance was stupid high. could play for an hour at a higher difficul #< anyway i hadn't changed my age since i had first played which was uh. nearly 5 years ago D:

[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/743255237060689920/the-thing-that-confuses-me-about-the-dont-vote

The “don’t vote” left’s point is basically that, if Biden gets a second term, it’ll basically signal that “They’ll vote for us as long as we’re not Republicans, why don’t we do some REAL fucked up shit, if we can get away with it?” It takes the power out of the people’s hands and places it firmly in the party’s.

I can’t completely disagree with that, my caveat is that there’s no real alternative system or party in place, because top-down change is ineffective; a third party president has to contend with a two party congress.

Except no. This whole "Biden just wants to do as much fucked up shit as possible while not being a Republican, and if you give him a second term he'll do more fucked up shit deliberately to spite you" mindset is only possible as an interpretation if you a) deliberately and comprehensively ignore everything he has done to date, and b) you approach the situation with the maximum bad faith possible. Not to mention, the ultimate outcome of this Big Important Teaching Biden A Lesson is that Trump gets back into power and makes everything orders of magnitude worse, because he does in fact want to deliberately do evil shit to everyone and says so at every opportunity. There is not some magical happy alternative that springs into existence by not voting. If you choose this as a year to Teach Biden A Lesson, you are enabling Trump. Trump will be much, much worse. If you don't care about that, I still do not care what your Great Ideology is. You are not helping anyone and you are directly and irreversibly hurting everyone.

I made a post a few days ago wherein I mentioned that I want to assess Biden fairly, taking into account both strengths and weaknesses, but the rampant bad-faith, lying, misreading, misrepresentation, and open sabotage of him (especially by the online left; the GOP sometimes only wishes they were as good at turning Biden's voter pool against him) makes it really difficult to do that. My frustration with those people makes me just want to go "BIDEN IS GREAT THE END." I know he is a flawed old man (though by literally every account of a career spent in public service, he really does care about making the world a better place and any remotely good faith reading of his accomplishments thus far can see that). It is also very likely that he goes MORE left in a second term because he won't have to face the electorate again, he has always gone more left when pushed before, and he's not actually the scheming genocidal mastermind that leftist social media paints him as. Shocking, I know.

I know there are things in the world we don't like and don't want and want to stop, and therefore we blame our own president for not making it stop. But I have zero, no, none, absolutely none whatsoever sympathy for this pseudo-populist "WE NEED TO TEACH BIDEN A LESSON BY ELECTING TRUMP AGAIN, I AM VERY MORAL MUCH ACTIVIST" mindset. There's this funny thing about America wherein it is still (for now) a democracy. If Biden wins a second term, he can't run again. I would take literally anything these people said more seriously if they focused on developing their dream progressive successor for 2028 (and also figured out how to get that person elected and in a place to make real change) rather than cynically sabotaging Biden in the most consequential election year, again, of our lifetimes. If you don't like him now, find a way to make his successor a better option. Throwing a toddler tantrum and handing the country back to a senile, deranged, fascist, revenge-riddled, theocratic Trump HELPS. NOBODY. I still don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that, but yeah.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

[nanaslutt]

omg can u imagine gojo being so obsessed with ur pussy lips and before seggs he makes u spread urself for him like he’s the pussy inspector 😵‍💫😵‍💫 or like makes u touch urself and spread ur legs/lips rly wide so he can watch

i can imagine and i am imagining and i will continue to imagine

nonnie you are BRILLIANT<3

contains: fem reader, pussy inspection, masturbation (gojo & reader), he guides you, you’re in front of a mirror, he’s obsessed with your cunt, you finger yourself together, so much praise like so much, dirty talk, he talks to ur pussy, pretty soft i won’t lie~

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“toru, this ‘s so embarrassing.” your mumbling so quiet he can barely hear, face burning under his scrutinizing gaze with his eyes that can literally see everything

“don’t be embarrassed baby, your little pussy is so pretty,” he assures you, he currently has you on your back, thighs resting over his thicker ones as he’s between your thighs, sitting back on his heels, lengthy cock in hand, “you should wanna show her off,” he smiles sincerely at you

your hands are on the underside of your thighs, holding your pussy lips open for him to get a better veiw,

“you sure ur not jus’ pretending to be embarrassed cutie? little hole is squeezing around nothing down here when i talk to you,” his free hand coming to aid you in holding yourself open, pulling back the hood of your clit to get a closer look at your swollen bud,

“oh fuck,” he laughs, watching it twitch under his watchful stare, “want you to rub your clit a little for me pretty girl, can you do that?” he smiles fondly, eyebrows raising when he looks at you,

“o-okay,” you whimper, he moves his hand from the hood of your clit down to your thigh, rubbing comforting patterns into the skin there

you let one of the hands that was holding your cunt open come around your body and slide down your pelvis, tip of your middle finger coming in contact with your clit, legs trying to squeeze shut around him at the stimulation

“gotta keep ‘em open so i can see okay?” he says, emphasizing his point by using his strong grip to keep your leg in place,

“show me how you touch yourself when your alone.” he bites his lip, watching you look anywhere but his eyes that are trying to make contact with your own as you whimper out at his request,

dipping your finger down to your entrance to gather some of the slick there, you drag your finger back up to your clit and start rubbing quick circles into the angry bud,

not an inch of your movements are being overlooked by his crystaline eyes, he slowly starts to rub his own cock while he watches you, using his dripping pre to lubricate his strokes, jaw dropping in a half smile as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head

a second finger joining the first in rubbing your clit, wetness echoing in the room,

“tell me how it feels,” he’s breathing heavily, focusing on his tip, watching you try to put your pleasure into words for him,

“feels so good, makes my tummy feel all hot,” you pause to gasp, “rubbing it d-directly like t-this is so intense.” you finish, panting in short breaths, finding a good rhythm, one that makes your toes curl,

“oh fuck, i bet it is, looks like it feels so good,” he shakes his head in disbelief, huffing out a half laugh-half moan when he picks up the ministrations on his cock,

reaching his hand back down to your pussy and teasing the tip of his finger in your hole, twisting his palm so it’s facing the ceiling, moaning at the feeling of how warm and wet you feel when he slips it deeper, before pulling out completely

“can you imagine how this feels around my cock?” he asked, watching you scrunch your cute little eyebrows together in pleasure,

“stop for a second.” he says, letting go of his grip on his cock and letting it bob in the air, you look up him confused, barely having time to register the change in position, he picks you up so you’re sitting on the edge of the bed on his lap, facing the mirrored closet, feet perched on the bed by your ass, giving you both a great veiw of your pussy all spread out, his broad chest flexing against your back, feet firmly on the ground,

“gimmie ur hand sweetie,” he speaks, letting him take your hand in his, he places his palm on the back of your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours before guiding your hand between your legs,

unlocking your finger after he presses you palm over your dripping cunt, his chest vibrates against your back when he speaks, “put two fingers inside yourself,” he requests, “slowly, really feel how soft and wet you feel.” he instructs, hand opting to hold your thigh open for now while he watches your every moment through the mirror,

you dip the tips of your fingers inside your hole, rubbing the wetness on the length of your digits before slowly pressing deeper into yourself, just like satoru asked, your head falling back against his shoulder in a moan when your cunt swallows up your fingers to the hilt, palm pressed firmly against your clit,

“good girl” he draws out, groaning as he thrusts his hips shallowly against you, cock pressed snugly between your lower back and his abs, relishing in the friction,

“feel how good that feels?” he asks, hand he had resting on your thigh coming down to your cunt, teasing the space under where your fingers are currently stuffed in your hole, you whimper out an ‘uh-huh’ while nodding, “that’s what my cock feels every time i’m inside of you.”

his thick fingers slowly joining yours inside your cunt, pushing them in with a little resistance as you gasp, eyes shooting open and head tipping forward to watch his ministrations in the mirror, “fuck! s-satoru!” you moan at the stretch

your cunt and his dick alike throb at the veiw of his fingers along with your own stuffed inside you, “this pussy is so fucking good to me you know that? he whispers into your ear, keeping eye contact with you in the mirror,

starting to pump all four of your fingers together in and out of your gushing pussy, forcing your fingers to curl with his each time he fucks them into you, putting the most mind numbing pressure on your gspot

“always squeezes my cock so good, just like she’s doin to our fingers now.” his mouth is still pressed to your ear, hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body,

“touch your clit, pay attention to how tight she gets when you do that,” he instructs

shaky hand coming down to rub your puffy nub, letting out a long moan of his name at the sensation of your clit getting stimulated along with your gspot being pounded into, thanks to him picking up the pace,

basically holding hands with him inside of you as your fingers tangle and curl together, cum sliding down between your ass as you work together to bring you to your rapidly approaching orgasm,

“fuck you felt that right?” he moans breathlessly into the shell of your ear, “felt how much tighter she got?” humming sounds of approval into the side of your face as the coil in your tummy screws impossibly tighter,

“and when you cum it makes my cock feel even better, try to focus on that, really wan’ you to understand how good you make me feel.” he enlightens you, staring between your pretty face twisting in pleasure and your messy cunt crying out for him as your thrown into your orgasm,

hunching over when the first wave hits you, remembering satoru’s words and trying to focus on how your pussy clenches and spasms around your fingers, and how it feels

his hips fucking up into your back, feeling sympathetic pleasure himself watching your intense orgasm wrack your body with tremors,

whimpers of his name and curses filling the air as your cum drips around both of your digits, letting you catch your breath for a second before pulling out his fingers, yours following shortly after, as he leaves sweet kisses on your sensitive neck.

“did such a good job, felt nice when you squeezed all tight on ur fingers when you came, right?” he asked, eyes already on yours when you came to, smiling and nodding at him through the mirror, affirming his words,

“good, now i wanna feel that same thing around my cock, and i want you to squirt for me while we’re at it,” he leaves one final kiss on your cheek, hearts practically in your eyes as he gets you in position for the long and messy night you’re about to experience.

#this is so hot i went off ngl #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru smut #gojo satoru fic #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu satoru #satorugojo #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. the first years find old videos burned onto a dvd of you, satoru, shoko, and geto from 2005/6.

wc. 2.7k

tags. gojo x reader, you+shoko+gojo+geto being in the same year and besties, set in the present and past, fluff

next part / series masterlist

"is it recording?" asked one muffled but familiar voice. the screen was black, the camera covered by something or someone. the pitch was marginally higher than they were used to but yuji and nobara grinned at each other as they recognised the voice of their teacher.

"how can anyone see when you're holding it like that?" this one was more feminine and unfamiliar to the two - but not for megumi who smiled sadly at the laptop screen.

"give it to me idiots," this was another female voice. there was some more chattering in the background but the audio hadn’t been picked up over the rustling of the camera being passed around. then, for a moment, the screen goes completely white as it focused on the figure in front: shoko ieiri. 

she turned the camera around so it was looking at her three peers all wearing the same sheepish grins. "you hadn't even taken off the lens cover." 

“it was satoru’s fault,” the other female sorcerer accused the white haired boy next to her.

“no it wasn’t!” gojo whined, geto on the other side of him stifling a laugh at his childish mannerisms. he looked in disbelief that his best friend was not defending him, “why am i always the scapegoat?”

yuuji paused the video to point at the unknown girl, “who is that?”

megumi hesitated for a brief second before responding, “yn.”

“you knew her?” nobara raised a brow at her dark-haired friend. he was often stoic and kept to himself but they’d been together for several months now and even she could pick up on the uncomfortable change in his demeanour. 

megumi hummed, avoiding eye contact as he stared at the paused screen, “mhm.” you looked happy in the clip, always amused when it came to winding up gojo. he’d seen it with his own two eyes.

“did she leave jujutsu?” yuuji pondered aloud.

“something like that,” he swallowed thickly.

nobara gave megumi’s hand a light squeeze, but didn’t say anything. megumi had initially been against the idea of looking through the dvd to see their teacher’s teenage years at jujutsu high - this explained why.

yuuji, on the other hand, was oblivious to the interaction, more eager to see a young gojo (and nanami too, he hoped). he reached across nobara to unpause the video without another question.

"can we just do what we actually came out here to do?” geto asked in an exasperated tone, but he was clearly smiling as he spun gojo around so the two could go back to back. “who's taller, me or satoru?" the two had been arguing over the fact all morning so it had been shoko to suggest recording it so that there was actual evidence that neither could deny.

before either could stand fully straight against one another, you interrupted with no hesitation, "suguru." gojo’s eyes widened and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his expression.

"you didn't even look properly!" he threw his hands out dramatically and you shrugged, dismissing his distress.

"didn't need to," you waved a finger up and down, “shorty.”

there was a brief second of back and forth between you and gojo, no actual words being said until his pout lifted into a mischievous smile. that had you spinning on your heel in a futile attempt to try and escape him but it took only three of his strides till he’s got you in his hold, fingers tickling your sides.

“can we go ten minutes without you two flirting?” shoko complained over your laughs from behind the camera, panning over to geto who was shaking his head with a similar look that she undoubtedly wore too.

yuuji’s eyes were blown wide when he paused it again, looking at megumi in disbelief (even nobara had to sneak a glance for an explanation because she’d never seen their teacher so physically close to anyone like that). “sensei had a girlfriend?” 

“sort of,” megumi shrugged.

“oh my-” yuuji begun to exclaim but megumi cut him off by placing a hand over his wide mouth.

“if you ask any more questions, i will turn it off.”

instantaneously, yuuji mimicked zipping his mouth, locking it and throwing the key away, settling back into his seat. the dark-haired teenager unpaused the video.

the clip comes back to life again, gojo with his arms wrapped around your centre as he ceases his tickling in full view. his sleeves are rolled up so it’s visible on camera where you had dug your nails into his skin trying to prise his hands from you (very unsuccessfully, might you add). “that was not flirting. this is flir- ow i just wanted a kiss.” 

the camera dropped as shoko laughed and the video ended several seconds later, the screen swapped back to one full of files and thumbnails. there had to be well over a hundred videos, maybe more, all ranging from a few seconds to even an hour for some. 

nobara scrolled down until she came across a clip with gojo as the thumbnail. this one, she decided.

the video buffered for a brief moment before beginning. this one was outside this time, somewhere on the grounds of the high school. gojo had forgone his uniform jacket once more and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose as he slightly bent down to hear what was being said.

shoko was the one holding the camera again – as she often was – and the one asking questions, "what's your favourite thing about being a sorcerer?"

gojo pretended to deeply ponder the question, tapping his index finger against his chin thoughtfully. just as he went to answer the question, voices came from behind both of them: two other students began walking towards them from a path on the other side of the open field.

“is that yn and geto?” gojo asked to no one in particular. he held up a finger to shoko as his feet were naturally leading him in the direction of the two people he care for most, “one second.”

shoko panned back to herself, nose scrunched up and a cigarette between her lips. she looked like she was going to complain about gojo’s inability to stay focused on one task at a time when she too got distracted by her friends in the distance. 

"someone's in love," she sung as she spun around, pointing at you and gojo and then her mouth as she pretended to gag. gojo had already presumably checked in on geto and now his whole focus was on making sure you’d come back from the mission in one piece. in the footage he pressed one long kiss to your forehead, hugging you closely to his body. “i need to smoke.”

yuuji was practically squirming in his seat, itching to say something. one sharp look from nobara, however, and he thinks better of it. the orange-haired sorcerer went back to her scrolling, finding a short fifteen second clip that lasted only twenty seconds.

initially, the screen was dark once more as it was being readjusted and then a young male, no older than sixteen came into view with a wide smile. “i’m going to be japan’s strongest sorcerer one day!”

“yu!” you appeared behind him, passing him a soft drink bottle, “of course you are! best the world has ever seen.”

“after me,” geto, who was sat next to haibara, joked as he looked at his junior with a fondness that you shared. there were some more voices and haibara glancing between talking sorcerers but nothing overtly interesting in the final few seconds.

“i have no idea who that was,” megumi admitted, and yuuji nodded nonchalantly like his silence wasn’t killing him. even the dark-haired sorcerer couldn’t stop himself from being somewhat amused by his peer.

megumi was the one to scroll down this time. he was more methodical than nobara had been and looked at several thumbnails before deciding finally on one of you and gojo. he recognised the date underneath as a date gojo had scribbled on the back of a photo that he kept in his wallet.

you were holding the camera this time, pointing it at gojo who was staring up at the clear night sky. it was well past curfew and you were both going to be in for it when yaga found you but the conflict to come could not be felt in the serenity of the fireflies’ buzzing.

“look at how beautiful the stars are,” you said aloud, though you’re entire focus was on your boyfriend in front of you. he turned to agree (and probably tell you some random fact that he knew about one particular constellation) only to catch your sly smile and your heart-eyed stare.

there was a split second as his eyes darted between yours and the camera that he almost appeared… nervous? bashful? but he quickly recovered with an eye roll, “you’re literally blessed to even be in my presence.”

you panned the camera around to yourself where you stared at gojo with a raised eyebrow. “if you can’t handle my rizz just say so.” gojo snorted and you could only keep up the facade for another second before you were giggling too. 

he rolled closer to you so he could lay his head on your chest and you lifted the camera higher to make sure you both stayed within the frame.

“smile toru,” you poked his cheek lightly and pointed up. it was odd for his students to be watching this – to see their powerful sensei with his guard completely down, tired, and in love. gojo did as he was told, ocean blue eyes almost illuminating under the night’s shadow.

it was that moment that he had saved as a photo; gojo smiling up at the camera with his body covering yours whilst you look down with him with more love than he thought he could ever deserve.

“hey! i was watching that,” yuuji complained after megumi pressed escape, cutting the video short.

megumi sniffed lightly, but shrugged it off by giving yuuji a distraction, “you choose the next one.” this was sufficient enough to distract the minor disappointment and yuuji was quick to find one he liked.

“yn’s crying! i wonder what happened,” yuuji hurriedly clicked onto the video, invested in the life of a sorcerer he could never know.

“guess who broke up again,” shoko said in a sing-song tone as you glared at her. she was sat at her desk and you were on her bed, a mountain of used tissues behind you. your face was red and blotchy from tears and you clearly did not want to be recorded right then.

“it’s not funny,” you sniffled, “and it’s just a break.”

you mumbled the last part and shoko deadpanned to the camera, mockingly mouthing what you had just said. “still disrupting my beauty sleep by coming in my room and crying,” she turned in her chair towards you, “believe it or not i don’t just wake up looking this flawless.”

“ha ha,” you uttered sarcastically, “it’s not my fault i love him.”

“you’re seventeen,” shoko dragged out, “there’ll be other ones.”

you stopped your pity party for a brief second to look shoko dead in the eye, “have you seen his bank account? there will not be other ones.” you both broke out into laughter almost instantly, the healing sorcerer agreeing with your argument.

shoko pointed to the camera, “gojo satoru i hope you see this. your girl is a gold digger confirmed.”

the video then gets cut off once a pillow has been launched directly at shoko’s head.

“next one! next one! they have to get back together!” nobara insisted. megumi lets her play the next video, he didn’t tell her about what he knew — that he’d seen you and gojo in love and together well after the video. that you survived the tribulations that came with being a teenager and overcame more as sorcerers than the average couple should have to deal with.

“so it’s been…” shoko held up one finger, then two, then glanced to geto for help.

“three days and six hours,” he recounted, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

“three days and six hours since gojo and yn called it quits and now here they are, making out at an official jujutsu event very not subtly,” shoko informed the camera, swapping the view so that it was in fact exposing your escapades at the formal event. it was nothing overtly raunchy, just gojo pressing you to a wall as he kissed your lips. still, there’s a time and a place.

“are you seriously recording this?” geto asked.

shoko spun the camera to him, “you want the camera on you?”

geto winked, adjusting his tie and leaning back on the bench as he manspread. “i look good right?” shoko shook the camera to say ‘no’ and he shrugged, pulling out a lighter for the cigarette he held between his lips. he lit his and then offered it to shoko.

just as she grabbed the lighter, a loud crash came from the direction that the two of you had been. somehow in the thirty seconds that she had been focused on geto, you two had stopped your kissing session, zenin naoyo had showed up and gojo was throwing punches with the zenin.

geto dropped his cigarette as he quickly raced to help out his best friend. shoko too followed after, running with the camera facing the fight as she called out, “the girls are fighting!”

“i bet sensei won,” yuuji smugly said as the video ended. 

nobara scoffed, taking back control of the laptop as she tried to find their next video, “obviously. he never loses – especially not to zenin naoya.” unable to make a decision with the hundreds to choose from, nobara closed her eyes, scrolled and clicked on a random video.

you and shoko were the two on screen, sat at a table seating on the train. 

“shopping haul!” you held up the bags excitedly and shoko hushed you, pointing to the seats across from you and mouthing ‘they’re sleeping’. you whispered an ‘oops’ and briefly showed a young nanami and haibara resting his head on his shoulder. 

quietly lifting up the three massive bags of shopping the two of you had between yourselves (a difficult task given the rustling of the paper), you began to lay out your items on the table. the both of you took it in turns, shoko showing off the new lighters and lipsticks she’d bought followed by you presenting several tops that you’d probably never get the chance to wear given the fact you were always in uniform.

“why are we stuck so far away when those two are just sleeping?” gojo rudely interrupted your little haul from where he and geto sat. shoko laughed, grabbing the camera to point at the two who were sat facing away two rows down. the train was pretty busy so they’d been lucky to grab the table. gojo and geto were left to fend for themselves.

gojo was peering down the isle, a pout on his lips whilst geto knelt on his chair and held his hands up pleadingly for… you two to kick your two sleeping juniors out of their peaceful seats so they can disturb your peace? there was no way that was happening.

“they’re not allowed on the adult table because they almost got us kicked out of the restaurant,” shoko explained with a tut and you oh-so-solemnly shook your head in disappointment.

the white haired sorcerer rested his head back against the chair, rubbing his brow in a frustrated manner, “the old lady started it.”

geto placed a hand on gojo’s shoulder, waving a middle finger to the camera with the other. “don’t waste your breath, satoru. they probably paid her to trip over your chair.”you and shoko glanced at each other with knowing grins before both of you started mimicking two people kissing with your hands, "mwah mwah mwah, and they're both boys."

a/n. will there be subsequent parts to this? yes most definitely. this is not proofread and very messy so if you made it the whole way ty and I hoped you enjoyed this <33333 this might be my most favourite thing to write so far

#snapshot ! #satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #gojou satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojou satoru #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #Nanami kento #Haibara yu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[homunculus-argument]

I know it would probably be a logistical nightmare to also make this accessible to the actual people represented, but I think it would be cool to have a game where the whole point is that every character has different limitations, that make it impossible or at least incredibly difficult to get past the whole game without switching them every once in a while, and the way you switch is by going to another character and asking their help with something.

Like you start out the game with one character and go "oh huh, the colour sceme of this game is really cool, really interesting use of such a limited palette", play through the puzzles for a while, and then encounter something where you're supposed to arrange some slightly differently coloured puzzle pieces to the right order by shade or something, and it's goddamn impossible. No matter how many methods you try, it's just not clicking, no matter how logical your solutions seem, no matter how clearly they can't be arranged in any other way that'd make more sense.

And maybe you go online to ask people "hey I'm stuck in the colour puzzle, what the hell am I supposed to do to get past this?" and someone tells you to go find one of the other playable characters and ask for their help. Which sounds patronising and stupid but you're stuck so you might as well give it a try. You go to one of the other characters, choosing the dialogue option to go "hey I need a hand with something, I can't do this on my own", and when they go "sure, let's go", your controls now switch to the other character.

And the colour scheme switches immediately. The aesthetic limited palette has changed to a far wider range, there's details in the environment that you hadn't noticed, like the muted faint flowers on the ground are actually bright red, the greyish shirt that your first character was wearing is actually striped with orange and green. The first POV character is colourblind, this whole time you haven't been able to perceive the difference between green and red. Solving the colour arranging puzzle with the other character is a breeze.

And this is the repeating theme of the game - every character has their own limitations, and while none of the puzzles are easy, you learn to think "maybe I should ask someone to help me with this" whenever you've been stuck for an unreasonable amount of time. You need to grab a buddy along for the quests, or you'll need to go back to get one eventually, and the way the game is structured somehow ensures that you can't just tactically dodge the limitation puzzles beforehand. Deaf character's POV doesn't have the audio clues that different pieces of the same puzzle make a different clicking sound, the puzzle with garbled numbers on it stops being garbled when you're not playing the character with dyscalculia.

You slowly get to know the whole cast, and occasionally help them out with things, too. You know which character could probably help with something you're stuck with, but while they'd be glad to come help, they're unfortunately stuck doing some task that could take you 20 minutes but is going to take them all afternoon, and you can offer help. Sometimes the helping-a-buddy-out minigames don't come with any direct transactional reward, you can just help a friend with something just because you can.

And the game's whole goal isn't to just illustrate how different people have different strengths, and sometimes things that are easy for you are hard for someone else, and vice versa, but to condition the player to think "maybe I should just ask someone to help, instead of wasting time struggling on my own."

[august126]

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college.

You're pretty sure your feelings aren't reciprocated... until one night that changes everything.

Warnings:Age Difference,Joel is 49 and Reader is 24,Oral Sex,Car Sex,semi-public sex (sort of),Flirting,Masturbation, and Dirty Talk

Words:12,334

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared.

___________________________________________________________

“Y’know, while ‘m happy that you’re livin’ with me again, I’d appreciate it f’ya started tryin’ to find a job that put that fancy degree t’use.” You peer over the top of the book you’d been reading at your dad, who’s taking up a spot at the end of your pool chair. His arms are crossed over his navy work shirt, drenched in sweat from working all day in the roiling heat customary of a Texas summer, and he’s watching you expectantly for an answer. 

You set your book on your chest and sigh. It’s not that you aren’t thankful or don’t appreciate your dad allowing you to move back in with him after graduating from college a year ago. You fully understand how fortunate you are not to have to worry about paying rent; you’re also eternally grateful to your dad for hooking you up with a decent-paying job as a secretary at the contracting business his best friend owns. However, you were getting very, very tired of having this conversation. 

“And you know that I am lookin’, but it’s silly for me t’apply for an entry-level position at a firm that’s gonna pay me less than what ‘m makin’ now.” Your dad rolls his eyes and grumbles something snippy under his breath, his go-to combo when he doesn’t like that you’re right. You pin him with a pointed stare. “Care to repeat that?”

“Said maybe I oughta tell Joel to dock your pay then,” your dad states, but any lingering irritation in his tone dissipates by the time he’s finished speaking. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his slight frown turns into a small, teasing smile. 

“Somebody say my name?” Your gaze shifts from your dad to the sliding glass door behind him… or, rather, the man who opened it. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college. Currently, Joel Miller is the tanned, broad, tall man striding leisurely through your backyard, navigating around your pool, and stopping beside your father. 

He slaps a hand on your dad’s shoulder in greeting and shoots you a bright grin as he coos, “Hey, lady.” Although Joel’s addressed you with the pet name for years, it never fails to cause an eruption of butterflies in your belly and a crimson blush to paint your cheeks.

“Hey, Joel,” you respond, trying to appear nonchalant even as you’re reining in your thundering heart and halting the pulse throbbing just south of your belly button. “Dad was jus’ sayin’ how he’s gonna ask ya to give me a pay cut.” Joel turns to your father, shaking his head.

“And risk losin’ my best employee? No can do, bud.” Even if he’s only joking, you preen at Joel’s praise. You cock an eyebrow at your dad, waiting for some sort of a comeback, but he only glares at you both before huffing. 

“I don’t like when the two of ya gang up on me.” You giggle, and Joel shoots you a lazy wink and a warm, victorious smile. “Anyway,” your dad turns his attention back to Joel, “you said reservation’s at 6:45?” 

“Uh-huh, so we oughta get our asses movin’,” Joel asserts, and your dad starts heading swiftly back toward your house. Joel’s eyes shift to you, still lounging on your purple pool chair, and he nudges your foot with the toe of his boot. “That means you too, lady.” 

“What’s the occasion?” 

“Sarah’s birthday,” Joel answers incredulously, and a lightbulb goes off in your head; that’s why you felt like you were forgettin’ something all day. “Please tell me ya didn’t forget my daughter’s birthday. Your friend’s birthday,” Joel teases, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

“ Of course I didn’t forget,” you lie, narrowing your eyes. Joel sees right through it.

“I bet. Now go get changed ‘fore ya make us late … unless you plan on wearin’ that to dinner.” The blush you just managed to school comes back in full force as he unabashedly rakes his eyes over your body, and only now do you realize how little the tiny black bikini you’re wearing covers. 

Joel’s pretty brown eyes, usually so teeming with emotion, are utterly unreadable as you stand from your chair and begin heading inside. As you pass him, you mumble, “Don’t see why you’re complainin’.”

“Didn’t think I was.” You stumble a bit, glancing over your shoulder to find Joel’s gaze slowly sweeping down your body. When his stare lands on your ass, practically bare save for the minuscule cover your bikini bottom provides, his attention snaps back to your face, an impish grin on his lips that makes your skin flush. 

“Fuck off, old man,” you reply cooly, flipping him off as you saunter inside; you can still feel Joel’s gaze on you as you ascend the stairs, and if that makes you sway your hips more than usual… well, who the fuck cares? 

Once you’ve entered your bedroom and stripped off your bathing suit to assemble an outfit for dinner, your mind drifts into a space you’ve grown all too familiar with over the last five years. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand how wrong your crush on Joel Miller was. Ignoring the fact that he’s been your dad’s best friend for years, he’s also over two decades your senior and has a daughter only a few years younger than you. It’s disgusting, really, that you have even the slightest hint of attraction toward the man. And yet…

You really can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re no longer a college student parading around under the guise of adulthood. No, you’re a woman now, a woman with autonomy who is perfectly capable of making her own choices. If one of those choices is fucking her dad’s best friend, well, then so be it.

Even as you tell yourself this for the thousandth time, the sentiment feels weak. Sure, the opportunity to fuck Joel Miller is perfectly viable, in theory. However, so many things would have to go right for a thing like that to happen, and you are a notoriously unlucky person; quite frankly, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten lucky to the degree that you would need to for something like having sex with Joel to happen. 

For one, no one would ever be able to find out. Your dad, Sarah, any of your nosey neighbors. Not to mention that the logistical feat of such a thing would be tricky. Where would you guys meet up? Not your house, not his house, and anything public like a bar would be far too risky. No, it would have to be a one-off deal, and you’re not so sure you’d be able to stop at just a single taste of Joel.

And that’s all assumin’ he’d even want me, you think as you comb through your closet looking for a summer dress right for the occasion. Joel Miller had never, never shown a flicker of interest in you. That display by the pool, him ogling your ass in your skimpy bikini? That was just him keeping up the incessant string of banter that passed between the two of you. Sure, he was older than you, but that didn’t matter when it came to the way he treated you, as if you were his friend. 

Right, his friend. 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. This line of thinking was an absolute rabbit hole, forcing you down, down, down until there was a headache ebbing at your temples and your veins were licking with equal parts frustration and lust. 

Three quick knocks come on your door, and your head whips around at the sound, pulling you out of your Joel-induced stupor. “Hey, lady?”

Fuck. You stand in your closet, stunned into inaction like a deer in headlights as you realize the only thing separating you, butt-ass naked, and Joel is the mahogany of your closed bedroom door. 

“Just checkin’ to see ‘f you’re ready yet. Sarah jus’ texted, said her and what’s-his-face are waitin’ at the restaurant.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You off-handedly wonder why you haven’t just slipped a dress on over your head on the off chance Joel decides to swing open your door, and you realize with a sick sort of excitement that you wouldn’t entirely mind Joel walking into your room at this very moment. 

“Almost,” you call out, forcing your words to come out smooth as the image of Joel entering your room enters your mind unbidden; you imagine how his eyes would take in your naked form, how it’d take three short strides for him to reach you, how he might drop his head and lick one of your already hardened nipples into his warm, waiting mouth. You swallow thickly before calling out, “Just need another second s’all.” 

A dull throb begins at the apex of your thighs as you picture the man on the other side of the wall putting his rough, work-worn hands all over your soft, supple skin. You wonder what his calloused touch would feel like against your flesh, if his honeyed skin would grow rosy under the thorough ministrations of your wet tongue, if his eyes would grow dark and a deep groan would drip from his lips as you closed your mouth around his-

“Sweetheart? Y’alright in there?” You think you mumble an airy affirmation as you mindlessly trace your fingers along your collarbone, imagining that they’re longer, thicker, belonging to another individual entirely. Any semblance of rationality escapes you as your other hand creeps down the smooth skin of your belly, and you cup your sex with a groan you’re barely able to muffle. You’re so outside of yourself, caught up in the slow path your fingers are tracing along your body, that you don’t notice the doorknob begin to turn. 

Only when your door starts to lurch open do you fall back into your body from where you were floating a few seconds earlier. Your eyes blow wide, a strangled cry of surprise and horror falling from your mouth as you realize the precarious situation you’re about to be thrust into. “WAIT.”

The slow sway of your door opening halts immediately, and you let out a breath, spinning on your heel to face your closet. “I- ‘m jus’ comin’ in t’make sure you’re alright.” You hastily decide on a sage green strapless dress, something you can slip into quickly and inconspicuously, and rip the silk garment from its hanger. 

“Yeah, no, ‘m good, Joel. Great, I’m great, jus’… yeah, gimme a sec.” You throw the dress on, its hem falling to your mid-thigh as you grab a pair of strappy sandals from the bottom of your closet and slip one on, hopping into the other as you approach your door. 

“Y’sure, baby? Ya sound-” You slip your shoe on and grab the door handle in one movement, opening it fully to give you an unobstructed view of the man you’d just been on the verge of touching yourself to. Wouldn’t be the first time, you think to yourself unhelpfully. 

He’s looking down at you, concern and curiosity bubbling in his gaze, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “See? ‘m fine, all good. Jus’ needed a minute.” Joel’s eyes blaze a lackadaisical trail over your body, and you swear you can feel him cataloging each inch of bare skin you have on display. He reaches out, plucking one of the flimsy green spaghetti straps between his thick fingers before letting it go to snap back against your shoulder. You stifle a gasp, and he brushes the hair careening down your chest back over your shoulder. 

“This is pretty,” he says, voice low and velvety, and you can feel your pussy beginning to grow wet at his praise. He bends down until his mouth hovers just next to your ear, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him: musky cologne and citrusy body wash and something unidentifiable yet so undoubtedly Joel. “Did ya mean t’be wearin’ it backward?”

You look down at yourself, heat rising to your face when you realize that he’s right: you’ve managed to put your dress on the wrong way. You shove Joel’s shoulder, and he takes a step back, a smug grin painted on his lips that makes you roll your eyes. 

“You’re a dick, y’know that?” He chuckles at your dig, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

 “And you’re makin’ us late to this dinner. Now, can I trust ya to fix your dress yourself, or do ya need me to help?” He delivers it like a joke, and the logical part of your brain reminds you of that the moment your pulse begins to flutter. He’s just teasin’ you like he always does. 

However, the dark, hunger-tinged stare Joel is pinning you with doesn’t feel humorous. You swallow thickly, saliva pooling in your mouth and pinning your tongue to the roof. “I-” you stutter, words failing you as he continues dragging his eyes slowly over your flustered form. “You-”

“Spit it out, baby.” Baby. You turn the endearment over in your head a few times, testing the weight of it on your tongue. Finally, the corners of your lips pull up in a cheeky smile and your eyelids grow heavy as you gaze up into Joel’s face. 

“You askin’ to undress me, Miller?” And this doesn’t feel like your typical banter. No, this feels weighted, laced with something headier. Something full of innuendo and promises and an unquenchable appetite for… something. And then your dad’s voice is cutting harshly through the fog.

“Hey hon, I’ll be- oh, Joel, didn’t realize ya came up here.”

Joel doesn’t even spare your dad a glance, eyes still on you as he says, “Jus’ wanted to check and see if your slow-ass kid was ready t’go.” Your dad snorts, and you narrow your eyes at Joel before turning the withering look to your father. 

“Don’t laugh at that.” 

“Sorry, sweetie, but ya are kinda slow.” Joel’s smirk only grows, and you huff incredulously. Your dad, apparently oblivious to the bubble of tension he popped, continues. “Anywho, was jus’ sayin’ that I’m gonna head out to the car ‘cause we need t’get goin’, so quit your dilly dallyin’ and let’s get a move on.” He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat. 

You look at the ground as you mutter, “Yes, Dad, ‘m just about ready,” and your reply is met with a loud clap of your father's hands.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, rubbing his palms together before bringing a heavy hand down on Joel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Joel, you can wait with me in the car. I need t’talk to ya ‘bout some work shit anyway.” Your dad begins to drag Joel down the stairs, but not before Joel can get the last word in between you. 

He cranes his head back, catching your glare as he descends the stairs. “Y’heard your daddy, no more dilly dallyin’,” he sing-songs, and you scoff. 

“Oh, fuck you, Miller.” “Language, ma’am,” you hear your dad chastise sternly, and you grumble a half-assed apology as you close your bedroom door behind you. It only takes you a minute to flip your dress so that you’re wearing it the correct way and throw on a pair of light pink, lace panties, bounding down the stairs and out the front door when you’re ready. Before you know it, you’re seated in the backseat of Joel’s old pickup truck as it cruises down the highway toward Austin’s metro area. 

You watch the residential neighborhoods littered with little kids running through sprinklers and elderly couples sitting in chairs on their front porches morph into the city, full of streets tightly lined with buildings and bar-hoppers entering their first destination of the night. The sun still hangs rather high in the sky, dappling the world in a warm amber glow as Joel pulls up outside a quaint Italian bistro nestled between an ice cream parlor full of bright-eyed children and a sushi restaurant rattling with the heavy bass of the music from within. 

“Cute lil’ place,” you say, surveying the old brick exterior of the building and the burgundy awning hanging over the open front door that bears the name of the restaurant, Palermio’s, in loopy, white script. “Sarah’s choice?”

Joel reaches his hand behind your dad’s headrest, using one hand to turn the wheel while he starts to squeeze his truck into the last snug parking spot outside of the bistro. “No, darlin’, I did.” You stare at his side profile as he maneuvers the truck, surprise lacing your features. It’s not until he’s parked the car and meets your eyes in the rearview mirror as he’s straightening out in his seat that you realize he’s bullshitting you. 

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you throw open your door and slide from the backseat, and he’s following you a second later.

“Y’know, you oughta be nicer t’me. I am your boss,” he says as you round his truck, his arm brushing yours, and you look up at him. “Could fire ya for bein’ disrespectful, ‘f I really wanted to.” You smirk at him and shrug. 

“Ya could, but then you’d be losin’ your best employee, right?” His chest bounces as he laughs, and you smile at the pleasant noise before getting distracted by how his relatively new-looking cream-colored t-shirt bearing the album cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors stretches tautly over the slopes of his wide shoulders. 

“Damn right, lady,” he agrees, his gaze crawling over your body as he drags his thumb over his mostly pepper, slightly salt mustache that decorates his upper lip. Your skin crawls pleasantly as you feel him examining you, and you’re just about to reach your father, who’s waiting for the two of you by the entrance to the restaurant, when you hear Joel quietly say, “Prettiest employee, too.”

Your head whips around, feet planting on the concrete as you wait for Joel to say something, anything else. Much to your chagrin, he struts right past you shamelessly, heading inside as your dad gives you a confused look. 

“You comin’, honey?” You shake your head, trying to dispel the medley of thoughts whirring around your brain. Did I hear him right? No, no, he didn’t mean that. Definitely not. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, stepping inside with a sheepish smile in your dad’s direction. “Thought I heard someone callin’ my name, ‘s my bad.” Your dad just nods his head in understanding before draping an arm over your shoulder and steering you toward the back of the restaurant, where you can see Joel already greeting the members of your party who have already arrived. 

As you draw closer, you watch him envelope his daughter in a firm hug, rocking back and forth for a few seconds as he whispers something in her ear. She giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and when Sarah pulls back from his embrace, her deep brown eyes, which are almost identical to her father’s, catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to react, she’s colliding with you so hard you grunt. 

“You came!” she squeals, jumping up and down as you wrap your arms around her and giggle. 

“Course I came, Sarah. Wouldn’t ‘ve missed your twenty-first birthday for the world, ‘re ya kiddin’?” She takes a step back, holding you by the shoulders before drawing you back in for another tight hug. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus’ didn’t know ‘f you’d be able to make it, didn’t know ‘f you’d have other plans or somethin’.” She bites her lip when you pull away this time, trying to hide the way she’s beaming at you, and a big smile paints your face. 

“Nah, no plans more important than my best friend’s birthday.” She smiles and leads you back to the table, where your dad and Joel have already found their seats. You lean against her and whisper conspiratorially, “Did have to fight with my boss t’get some time off for the occasion, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like ya wouldn’t believe.” Sarah giggles, leveling you with a knowing grin. 

“I’m sure I’ve got some idea,” she says as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and you slip around to take the only empty seat, which happens to be between Joel and Tommy, his younger brother that you’ve only seen a handful of times. You offer the younger Miller brother a polite smile, which he returns with a cheeky smirk before you turn back to the birthday girl. 

“You’ve ain’t ever been that excited t’see me,” Joel says accusingly at Sarah, jerking his head toward where Sarah had practically tackled you, and you stifle a laugh at the hint of playful jealousy in his tone. 

“‘s ‘cause I’m not a grumpy old man,” you snark, and Tommy guffaws beside you, reaching around your back to slap Joel’s shoulder lightheartedly. 

“She gotcha there, big brother,” he says, accent saturated with his heavy Texas twang. Joel grumbles something incoherent and Tommy shoots you an amused wink. You watch your dad snort with laughter in his seat across from you, and Sarah’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s seated on her other side opposite Joel tries not to look too entertained by your ribbing of his girlfriend’s father, wisely busying himself with the menu. 

A few minutes after ordering your drinks your waitress reappears carrying a large tray brimming with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. You take a sip of your Pinot Noir, hiding a small smile behind the fruity flavor as the waitress sets a large cocktail layered with green, white, and red liquid and adorned with a small Italian flag attached to a thin, black straw in front of a wide-eyed Sarah. You’re unable to mask your laughter, however, when Joel’s eyes find the massive drink and he nearly chokes on his sip of Peroni. 

“Babygirl,” he sputters, still recovering from his small conniption, “that’s a lotta-”

“I’m twenty-one now, Dad, I can handle my alcohol,” Sarah assures him with an annoyed roll of her eyes and a look at you that says can you believe this guy? And it’s true, Sarah is more than capable of handling her drinks if the videos she’s shown you of her time at college are any indication. 

“I know, jus’... jus’ pace yourself, yeah?” She concedes with a small huff, and you wiggle your eyebrows at her tauntingly. 

“Yeah, Sarah, make sure ya pace yourself. Got a while ‘fore ya can hang with us big dogs. Right, Joel?” You elbow him in the side, and he looks at you disdainfully. 

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” he murmurs under his breath. You shrug, snagging a piece of fresh, warm bread from the basket the waitress sat in the middle of the table and dipping it in the plate of olive oil and seasoning before stuffing it in your mouth. 

“Learned it fwom the besht,” you say merrily, grinning at him through your mouth full of food, and he sneers at you in disgust before turning his attention to your father and Tommy, who are in a heated debate over the Dallas Cowboys chances of success in the upcoming season.  

“I’m tellin’ ya, Tommy, this s’our year! We jus’ picked up that kid from- from… aw shit, where’s he from again?” Your dad rubs his temples, hoping to dislodge the information from some small, dusty compartment of his brain. 

“Notre Dame,” Joel chimes in as he reaches for his own piece of bread, and your dad snaps his fingers as his face lights up in remembrance.

“Notre Dame!” he bellows, and you shoot him a look that he promptly returns with an apologetic wince. “Notre Dame, yeah, s’right,” he says, quieter this time with a little smile, and you leave him and Tommy to continue their chat as you tune in to the conversation at the other end of the table. 

“Anyway, Dad, so Becca-”

“Which one s’that?” Sarah looks at Joel in disbelief. 

“Becca. Rebecca Landry. My best friend in high school, goes t’LSU with me, we lived together ‘fore I moved in with Luke…” Joel just stares at his daughter with vacant eyes, and you snort. “Dude, come on, ya literally grilled for her graduation party.” Joel shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. You watch how his throat bobs as he swallows and quickly avert your eyes, hoping no one caught you gawking. 

“Sorry, hon, doesn’t ring a bell.” She huffs, and Joel smirks, clearly just giving her a hard time. 

“Whatever. Anyway, her boyfriend proposed to ‘er last week, and it was jus’ the cutest thing. Real private ‘cause y’know how she is. She told me they don’t have a date set yet, but they’re thinkin’ ‘bout next Spring. Said t’ask if she should add ya to the guest list.” Joel hums non-committally, clearly lacking an opinion on the matter, and you pinch his elbow. He jerks out of your grip, looking at you with annoyance, and you cock your head in Sarah’s direction. When he turns to see her expectant glance, he huffs, head leaning back as he stares at the ceiling. 

“Tell ‘er I’ll be there,” Joel capitulates, and Sarah beams in excitement before giving you a grateful grin. 

“Awesome! She’ll be so excited, she loves ya.” Joel crosses his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head slightly as he leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs farther. You have to try desperately to keep your breath from hitching at the action. 

“Speakin’ o’ weddings and proposals n’ all that,” your dad says, giving Luke a friendly clap on the back. “When’s it your turn, buckaroo? ‘s been, what, three years of datin’? Gotta be soon, hm?” 

Luke looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and sink into the floor at the line of questioning, something your dad remains completely oblivious to. Feeling bad, you throw the guy a lifeline. 

“Leave ‘im alone, Dad. Jesus, you ain’t even that interested in my love life,” you huff, sipping your wine. Luke seems to remember how to breathe, a look of thanks on his face as your dad scrunches his nose up.

“‘s cause I’m not. Don’t wanna know about some boy who’s wastin’ your time ‘cause he ain’t good ‘nough for ya.”

“Your daddy’s right, hon, ya deserve more than what some boy can give ya ,” you hear from your right side, and then a thick arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. You turn to look at Tommy, who’s closer to you than the last time you paid him any attention. 

“Knock it off, Tommy,” you hear Joel grumble, and you watch Tommy’s eyes dart over your shoulder and narrow minutely. An expression of innocence plasters over his face to quickly replace the mischievous smirk previously there.  

“Knock what off, big brother?” Your gaze shifts to Joel, and you nearly wilt at the stormy look he’s shooting his brother. His eyes are simultaneously full of emotion and totally unreadable, jaw ticking in… wait, is he jealous?

“Quit.” You bristle at Joel’s harsh tone, not realizing until it’s too late that when you shrink back at his timbre, you lean further into Tommy. You can feel the egotism rolling off of the younger Miller brother, and the tension building in Joel’s figure seems to grow until he’s at serious risk of snapping. You’re sure that the only way this ends is with Tommy making another haughty comment that results in Joel leaping over your lap and strangling the man…

“Alright, who ordered the lasagna?” Your waitress’ voice dissipates the thunderous air instantaneously, and everyone’s attention snaps to her. The wide, practiced smile she’s wearing falters for just a second, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, ‘m I interrupting somethin’?” The tight pinch of Joel’s face evaporates before your eye, and you watch, stunned, as he turns toward your waitress. 

“Nah, darlin’, you’re alright. Reckon that’ll be mine,” he says, cool as clam. By the time all the food is dished out and you’re digging into your respective dinners, the near fight is long forgotten. Unfortunately, you’re not able to shake the bitter feeling of envy that twisted in your stomach at hearing Joel call the waitress “darlin’”. 

Before long, all six of your plates have been cleaned, and each of you sits back in your chairs, thoroughly stuffed full of rich Italian food. Your dad belches, drawing a laugh from the other men at the table while your and Sarah’s faces pinch in distaste, and the casual conversation continues as the street outside grows raucous with the Austin nightlife. 

Your dad, ever the chatterbox, is going on about some upcoming project at his contracting firm when you feel it: the firm weight of an arm draped over the backrest of your seat. You pay it no mind at first, chalking it up to Tommy’s touchy but harmless hands. 

That is until you feel soft, gentle shapes being drawn into the bare skin of your bicep on Tommy’s side. Your brain doesn’t comprehend the logistics of this immediately, and your head snaps in Tommy’s direction to find the younger man’s attention focused raptly on your father with his hands in his lap. 

Your back straightens, and goosebumps prickle across your skin when it finally clicks whose hands are on you; you slowly, inconspicuously face your father again, pretending like you’re listening so as not to spark anyone at the table’s awareness, all while peeking at Joel out of the corner of your eye. 

At first glance, it appears that he, like everyone else at the table, is completely engaged with the words tumbling from your dad’s mouth. But you know Joel too well. You pick up on the slight quirk of his lips, the way his thick thighs spread almost obnoxiously wide so his knee grazes yours, and how he’s drumming the thick fingers of his other hand rhythmically against the table. Joel felt how your body reacted to his touch.

And he liked it. 

That piece of information is what has the low burn in your belly from earlier in your bedroom reigniting, blazing up your skin and making your neck and chest flush a deep red. Joel must be able to sense your blundering state because he removes his hand from you altogether, causing your heart to drop. Your whole body begins to slump in disappointment just as you feel Joel replace his touch on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed when you sat down and the already short dress you’d thrown on in a panic earlier rode higher up your legs. 

He squeezes you there, thumb passing back and forth lightly, and your thighs spread of their own volition to allow him more room. You can see his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he’s able to play it off easily as a reaction to your dad’s story. You do the same with the small smile that stretches your lips as his hand begins to creep higher up your leg. 

And it’s risky, what you’re doing. Allowing your dad’s best friend, the father of the girl you’ve lived next to almost your entire life, your boss, to inch his big, calloused hand closer and closer to where you want him most right here at this very public dinner. 

And yet, you simply do not care. 

Well, you don’t care until you feel the pad of his thumb brush your sex over your panties, and you jerk at the sensation, thighs closing to stop the movement of his hands. The action draws your dad’s attention to you, and his brow furrows as he scans your face. 

“You okay, hon? You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Your pulse thunders in your ears as you fumble for an excuse. 

“No, yeah, ‘m fine. Jus’... yeah, not – uh, not feelin’ too hot.” Everyone at the table looks at you with concern. Even Joel, though his eyes possess an air of arrogance at your state. The bastard. 

“Babe, you can go home ‘f ya need to,” Sarah says, and your eyes go wide as you shake your head. 

“No! No, ’m fine, really. I wanna stay for you, ‘s your birthday ‘n all.”

She waves her hand as though she’s physically batting away your excuse. “Party’s basically over anyway. Luke and I were gonna meet some friends at a bar a few blocks over anyway, so y’all are good t’go whenever.” 

“Well, I’m ready t'head home now,” your dad says, beginning to rise from his chair. “Rangers game ’s on at 9, and 'f we hurry, I won’t miss more than the first inning.” Joel, reading your dad’s eagerness to get home as his cue to be ready to leave as well, stands, and you catch the way he subtly adjusts himself on the way up. You resign yourself to the fact that the fleeting, secret moment between you is slipping through your fingers, and, albeit reluctantly, you follow his lead.

Tommy’s still seated, sipping casually from his beer, when he informs your dad, “Nah, man, it’s Friday night in downtown Austin. Reckon y’all won’t get home ‘til the third inning, at least.” Your father curses, running a hand over his semi-bald head in genuine worry, and you almost have to laugh at the concern twisting his features into a grimace. The urge to laugh quickly fades as you watch Tommy shrug his shoulders and carelessly say, “There’s a place 'bout five minutes away, lil’ sports bar my buddies and I go to t’watch the game sometimes. Can get kinda rowdy, but you’re welcome to tag along, ‘f ya want.” 

Your jaw almost falls off at Tommy, who’s completely oblivious to the bone he’s just thrown you. When you turn just enough to allow you a view of Joel out of the corner of your eye, you immediately notice his almost imperceptibly stiffer posture. You watch your dad’s face light up with excitement, a hell yeah on the tip of his tongue.

And then, suddenly, his expression drops and he’s looking at you guiltily. “Aww shit, Tommy, that sounds great, but ‘f this one,” he says, jabbing a thumb in your direction, “ain’t feelin’ well, I oughta get ‘er home.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You go to object, to insist, practically beg your dad to take Tommy up on his offer so that it’s just you and Joel on the ride home, but Joel beats you to it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll take ‘er.” For the second time in mere minutes, you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to gawk at one of the Miller brothers. 

“You sure, Joel? Don’t wanna inconvenience ya or nothin’.” You watch Joel shrug, and then he turns to you, pinning you with an unreadable stare. 

“Y’alright with that, lady?” You stare at him, speechless. Are you alright with spending the entire ride home, perhaps even longer if your dad stays to watch the whole game and Sarah is bar-hopping, alone with Joel Miller right after his hand was brushing against your wet, wanting pussy?

Yeah, you were pretty fucking alright with that.  

Your silence must draw on for an uncomfortably long time because Joel raises his eyebrows at you, prompting an answer. “Yes!” you say, just a touch too loud, and you take a deep breath before turning back to your dad. “Yeah, sounds good – cool, ‘s cool with me.” 

Your dad gives you one more half-hearted once-over, verifying that you don’t need his escort home, but he’s in a losing battle with himself; the moment that Joel offered his services, your dad was sold. The coy little, “Well, ‘f you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he extends to Joel is like a tepid stamp of finality as his mind is already half-full with Rangers jargon. 

Joel gives your dad a nod before jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get ya home.” And you try, you really do try not to walk with your chest puffed out the entire way to Joel’s truck. You try to keep up the facade of illness that was brought on by your lustful tizzy. 

But Joel called you darlin’, and fuck if it didn’t sound better falling from his lips when it was directed at you and not some waitress. 

***

Tommy, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, was right; traffic absolutely crawled in the downtown Austin area at this time on a Friday night. You’d peeled away from the restaurant almost thirty minutes ago, when the sun was beginning its descent. 

Now, the analog numbers on Joel’s dash blink 8:57 p.m. , the summer sky having just shifted from muddy brown to steel grey and will soon start to give way to the dark of night and the whisperings of stars, and you’ve just managed to make it out of the city. 

Thirty minutes, nearly two thousand seconds, and each one totally void of speech. Joel stared straight out the front windshield, hands carefully gripping the steering wheel as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the metro landscape give way to soil and farmland, groups of clubgoers replaced by black and brown spotted cows. 

It’s not until the current CD in Joel’s radio reaches its end and the gears click, switching to the familiar crooning voice of Bob Dylan, that your soft singing breaks the silence. 

“What was that?” Joel asks, and you turn your gaze to watch him, focus still intent on the road in front of him. 

“Nothin’, just singin’.” He looks at you then, just a quick glance in your direction, but it makes your blood sing. 

“Y’like Bob Dylan? “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, hm?” You shrug noncommittally, and his responding smirk makes you sit up in your seat. 

“What’re ya laughin’ at?” Joel just shakes his head, and you lean over and swat his bicep playfully. “What?” 

“Nothin’, baby.” The word sounds perfect in his low, gruff timbre, and you grin stupidly. When he sees your expression, he reaches over and wraps his big palm around your knee, giving it a shake. “Got good taste s’all. Didn’t expect it from ya.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to pretend like the large spread of his hand over your bare skin doesn’t make your core throb. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Miller. You should know better than anyone how much I like old shit.” He clucks his tongue, sliding his hand farther up your leg and squeezing your thigh in warning. 

“Careful,” he advises teasingly, but you’re not feeling particularly cautious tonight. 

“Says you.”

“Says me?” 

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind the action as all the warmth in your body is currently shooting to a spot in your tummy. “Yeah, Joel, says you. I wasn’t the one with my hands between your legs in the middle of dinner tonight.” You watch Joel’s posture straighten and you try to hide your grin at his reaction.

Bingo. 

You bite your lip and watch his eyes dart in your direction. Even in the ever-darkening dusk, you can see the hint of hunger in his pupils. “Didn’t see you complainin’.” You adjust in your seat, and Joel’s hand slips higher, his pinky just barely dipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“‘s ‘cause I liked it,” you say matter-of-factly, and you watch him exhale heavily. His head swings lazily to look at you, eyes dropping to where his palm rests on your slightly spread thighs before traveling up to meet your stare. 

“Yeah? Liked me touchin’ your pussy with all those people ‘round? Any of ‘em coulda caught us, pretty girl. Coulda caught me feelin’ how fuckin’ wet you were, soakin’ through your panties.” And you’re almost sure Joel’s trying to make a point in there somewhere. That what you two did was risky in and of itself, not to mention the fact that he was touching you like that in public. 

And yet all you can focus on is that name. Pretty girl. You think it’s your favorite thing he’s ever called you.

When you don’t answer right away, Joel looks back to the road. You watch him check the rearview mirror, and then he’s making a left down a long road and parking the car on a small dirt pull-off a few hundred feet in.

You look around, surveying your surroundings; tall prairie grass decorates your side of the road while a large cornfield stretches over the side closest to Joel, and the only thing lighting the earth for a few miles in any direction is the soft glow of the moon overhead. When you focus your attention on Joel again, half of his face is shadowed while the gleam of lunar opalescence illuminates the other half. 

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, and you can’t help but stare. You reach toward Joel, cautiously at first, but emboldened when he squeezes your leg. You cup his jaw and rub your thumb over his stubbled jaw; his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and you shuffle closer, Joel’s hand falling away from you as you sit up on your knees and reach across the center console to cup the dark side of his face with your other hand. 

His palm finds a new position on your hip, and when his eyes open again, revealing his dark, chocolatey irises to you, your body leans closer toward his of its own volition. As if something inside of him, perhaps the very marrow of his bones, is magnetized to yours. 

“Joel,” you say, soft voice cutting through the silence in the cab of the truck. 

“Hmm?”

“Is this… is this bad? What we’re doing?’ His eyes dart around your face, taking in your heated gaze with a warmth of his own. He sighs as his other hand traces up the side of your body before slipping around your shoulders and resting on the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t say it’s good.” You nod, scratching your nails lightly through the salt-and-pepper beard he’s let grow. 

“Should we stop?” It comes out as a whisper, laced with apprehension, tediousness, and want. So, so much want. 

“Probably.” And he’s right. Whatever this thing between you and Joel is, it’s not feasible. Sure, it would be great. Amazing, even… until it’s not. Until the appetite for each other dies out and what’s left is a hollow skeleton of awkward encounters and forced conversation to keep up appearances.

Either that or the hunger becomes all-consuming, to the point where you can’t eat, can’t breathe, can’t sleep without thoughts of Joel dominating your mind. 

And maybe that’s worse, you think. Finding out what Joel tastes like, what it feels like when he sinks into your wet heat, just for it to one day be stolen from you. 

Because there isn’t an angle to approach this from that doesn’t end in the same unfortunate reality; Joel can’t be yours. He will never be yours. 

And, so, yeah. You probably should stop. But as you go to pull away, to take your hands off of Joel and sit back in your seat while Joel returns the truck to the main road before depositing you safely at home like the good friend he is, Joel’s grip on the nape of your neck tightens. And then he’s tugging your mouth to meet his and your hands, still cupping his cheek, are pulling his face in to meet you halfway.

When Joel’s lips slot against yours, you’re surprised by how soft he is. Joel Miller, perpetually gruff and probably born with callouses etched into his hands, is so inconceivably gentle at the first contact of his mouth against yours. You sigh, breathing him in as he threads his fingers into your hair, and a moment of tranquility washes over you. This truck is the only place that has ever or will ever exist, and you and Joel are the only two people in the world.

You slide one of your hands from his jaw to his neck, stroking the solid strength of his throat, and a rough noise vibrates from him. You repeat the motion experimentally, and he groans into you, tongue darting out to politely ask for entrance into your mouth. 

You accept with an enthusiastic moan, and that’s when the seemingly endless reservoir of Joel’s reserve drains dry. He licks into you, tongue caressing yours when you part your lips for him, and the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you held steadily against him. He feasts on you, stealing the air you breathe as he kisses you ferociously. 

Joel sucks on your tongue when you go to mewl, and the sound is replaced by a wanton whine. You roll your hips over nothing, and Joel clocks the movement immediately. You feel his reluctance as he drags his mouth from yours, and you sit and wait, carefully assessing every minute change in his expression as you try to regain your composure. 

You’re sure you’re supposed to be embarrassed right now, ashamed that you couldn’t keep your neediness in check. However, you can only think about two things: how fucking horny you are at the moment, and how that was probably the only time you’ll ever kiss Joel because this entire thing is about to come crashing down in short-lived, fiery oblivion.

But Joel does something. Something that really shocks you, leaves you vulnerable to attack and exposed right down to the root of you. He looks you up and down, from the slightly frumpled state of your green dress to the no-doubt wild gleam in your eyes, and smirks before saying, “You need t’be filled up, don’t ya, baby?”

You smile and nod, licking your lips as you appraise the man sitting in front of you. He’s so intoxicatingly broad, the sleeves of his shirt stretching tightly over his biceps while the legs of his jeans pull taut along his thighs. You shift in your seat again, causing Joel to pull you closer, and though you’re uncomfortably sprawled across the center console, you’ve never felt more right than you do right now. 

Your lips are brushing Joel’s, so close you can feel the warm puffs of breath leaving his nostrils, and any slight surge forward by either of you would connect your mouths again. Instead, you stay like that, so close but still too far for your liking. 

“Tell me what it is you want, sweetheart.” You angle your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before drifting your lips back to hover over his. 

“Want your cock, Joel.” Your bluntness must take him by surprise because his head falls back against his seat and he groans. You take the opportunity to drop your lips to his neck, kissing it lightly before licking up the column of his throat and biting delicately at the junction where his neck meets his jaw. 

“Yeah?” He takes one of your hands and drags it down his front, letting you feel the muted strength of his abdomen tailored from years of manual labor and the soft swell of his belly before landing on the thick bulge in his pants. You pull away from where you were beginning to leave a small bruise on his neck to look at where your hand cups his clothed erection, and you practically drool at the sight. “You want this, hmm?”

“Yes,” you confirm airily before your eyes snap up to meet his, heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “Please, Joel, I- I need it.” He nods, the hand that guided yours leaving you to your own devices and drifting back up to rub his thumb over your lips. You take the opportunity to massage him through his pants, and he sighs, smirking at you. 

“Tell me where ya need it, honey,” he lilts, and you grip his bicep as you squeeze his cock lightly. “Need it here?” He nudges his thumb gently between your parted lips, and even as you shake your head, your mouth opens to him, allowing him to push his finger inside. You swirl your tongue over the salty pad of his thumb, switching to mellow kitten licks before taking it deeper. 

“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at you. He presses his thumb down against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide so he can see down your throat. “Gotta tell me where then, baby.” You close your mouth again, sucking on his thumb briefly before pulling off of him with a lewd pop. 

Your eyes never leave his, and you watch them turn impossibly darker when you tell him earnestly, “My pussy. Want you to stretch my cunt with your fat cock.” He huffs lightly at the vulgarity of your words, and you squeeze him through his pants again. 

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, y’know that?” He looks almost in awe, and you smirk at him, beginning to crawl across the center console to straddle him. When he stops you with a hand to your sternum, you look at him in confusion. “We can’t tonight, darlin’. Wanna take my time with you when I fuck ya, gotta make sure I get ya ready.” 

You’re so utterly disappointed you ache with it, pouting at him as you draw in close. “But I’m ready now, Joel. So fuckin’ wet for you, have been since the restaurant.”

He gives you a chaste kiss before pulling back and jerking his head toward your seat. “Show me.” You smirk as you slink back into your seat. You rest with your back against the car door, your right leg dangling off the seat while you tuck your left leg up and spread your knees farther apart, causing the hem of your dress to ride up your thighs until it’s brushing your tummy. You can tell by the wrecked look in Joel’s eyes that from this angle, he has a perfect view of the damp spot decorating the slip of pink lace that is your underwear. 

“Fuck, baby, ya weren’t lyin’,” he mutters, fingers smoothing his mustache. “Pretty lil’ panties are soaked. That all for me?” You bite your lip and nod, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy as you ghost your fingertips over the soft skin of your thighs. He makes a noise of appreciation as he watches your movements hungrily, fist clenching as your digits move closer to your aching core.

“Mhm, f’course it is,” you assure, letting out a breathless, needy gasp when your fingers brush your clit over your underwear. You’re sure you must look fucked out, and you’d be embarrassed by that fact if it weren’t for the heady look Joel’s pinning you with right now. You whine as Joel brings his hand down to palm the thick, rigid outline of his cock bulging against his jeans, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. You roll your hips and whine at the stimulation, doing it again without breaking eye contact with Joel. 

He squeezes himself and groans as you rut slowly against yourself, dipping a finger down to tease at your soaking entrance over your damp panties, and he smirks. “You gonna show me how ya fuck yourself, baby? Show me how ya like it, hm?” 

And you would. You really, really would. Except Joel Miller is sitting in front of you with nothing but a few measly scraps of fabric preventing you from his hard length, and you think that it would be such a waste to not take advantage of that fact. 

Besides, you’ve already made yourself come more times than you can count with Joel Miller’s name on your tongue.

“No, baby,” you shake your head, and his brows pinch in confusion. You lick your lips, hand halting its ministrations as you sit up on your haunches and stare at Joel. “Want ya to fill me up.” 

He huffs exasperatedly at that, and his tone is laced with annoyance when he says, “Jus’ told ya, ‘m not fuckin’ ya t’night-” 

“Joel.” Your interruption shuts him up and he watches you lean in. You brush your lips over his, along his jaw and up his cheek before halting by his ear. “I want you,” you say, dragging a hand down his chest to rest over his in his lap, “to put your cock in my mouth and fill me up.” 

You apply pressure down over his hand, making him squeeze himself and the sound he makes is something close to a growl. He angles his head so that your lips meet for a heated kiss and he licks into your mouth immediately, tongue dancing with yours.

“Yeah?” Joel breathes into your mouth, and the hand not palming his dick threads into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs, pulling your head back so that you look down your nose at him with wide eyes and heavy lids. “Ya wanna suck me off?” You smile almost shyly and nod, and he tuts at you, bending to kiss the hollow of your throat before licking a stripe up your neck. 

“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’. You had so much t’say earlier, know this pretty mouth s’good for more than just takin’ my dick.” You whine, pressing your thighs together as best you can and rubbing, trying to give yourself some, any friction. 

“Wanna taste you, Joel,” you murmur, already delirious and you haven’t even gotten your mouth on him. “Want it so bad, please.” 

He rakes his eyes over you, takes in the needy glide of your thighs against each other and the ragged pants making your chest heave. He must take pity on your haggard form because he grins affectionately and releases his hand from your hair. 

“Since ya asked so nicely,” he says, palm gliding around to sit on your shoulder. He strokes the column of your throat a few times, watching you with a hooded gaze before nodding toward his crotch. “Go on, baby. Show me how much ya want it.”

You don’t need to be told any more than that before you’re hastily undoing his belt, ripping it from his pants and tossing it into the backseat while simultaneously popping the button on his jeans. Where your movements are hurried and ravenous, Joel’s are soft and sweet; he strokes your back lightly, broad, calloused palm feeling heavenly as it tracks over your bare skin. 

You lower the zipper on his jeans and he lifts his hips, allowing you to drag the coarse fabric down his thighs. It takes you a second after you’ve maneuvered his pants out of your way to realize you’re face to face with the stiff outline of Joel’s cock, straining against the black fabric of his boxers. Your mouth goes chalky when you see the small dot of moisture near his fat tip, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and pressing a kiss to the spot. 

Your groan is in unison with his, and Joel must be growing impatient because his hand snakes up to gently cradle your neck. “Don’t be a tease, pretty girl,” he scolds tenderly, and the endearment causes you to look up at him through your lashes. What you find in his eyes is something lusty, full of desire and want and… pure, unadulterated awe. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing. 

“Wasn’t bein’ a tease,” you say, bending back down to mouth at his cock over his boxers, and he moans when you lave at his swollen tip through his underwear. 

“Nah, jus’ so needy ya can’t even wait ‘til I get my cock out t’put your mouth on it, hm?” You lick up his dick and feel it twitch, his thigh tensing underneath the hand you have braced there. You smirk, looking up at him as you dip your pointer fingers under the band of his underwear, hooking your digits and arching your eyebrow.

He acquiesces with a lazy smile, lifting his hips, and you slowly drag the tight fabric of his boxers down to where his pants pool around his knees. However, you don’t immediately look at Joel’s length after fully freeing it from the confines of his clothes. You’re not sure why a cool feeling of nervous anticipation washes over you, but you find yourself stalling, rubbing your thumb over the inside of his knee and kissing his thigh gently. 

Joel, the attentive man he is, picks up on your nerves immediately. He massages the area where your spine meets your skull, and you practically melt at the feeling. “Y’okay?” he says softly, and you nod, turning your head to rest on his thigh. Your eyes avoid his dick, jumping up to land on his face. His expression is so kind, so compassionate and observant, that it makes you ache. 

“‘m fine. More than fine, ‘m good. Great.” He nods, stroking your cheek before he frowns. 

“Y’know, ‘f ya aren’t feelin’ it anymore, we can stop. We don’t have’ta-”

“S’not that,” you mutter, and he stops talking, waiting for you to go on. You inhale deeply, looking for the courage to speak your thoughts into the charged atmosphere of the truck. “I jus’... don’t want ya to regret this.” He flashes you a perplexed look before tipping his head back and laughing. Your cheeks blaze with heat, embarrassment creeping in to tamper the fire of want, and you bury your face into Joel’s thigh to hide. 

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t respond, he grabs your jaw and makes you turn to him. “Baby. Look at me.” You stare, lip twisted in your teeth, and you can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. He angles your chin down then, and you finally let your eyes fall, taking in the cock you’ve tried to conjure in your imagination while your fingers were stuffed in your pussy more times than you can count. 

In a word, Joel Miller’s dick is pretty. Thick and long and tan. Veiny and girthy, easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. His tip, which is a few shades darker than every other part of his length, is an angry red, weeping precome from the little slit at the top. The thick weight of him bobs up and sits at attention against his belly, resting against him obediently. Your mouth pools with saliva at the sight of it. 

Through the cotton in your ears, you can just barely make out when Joel says, “You tell me, honey. ‘s that look like regret t’you?” You swallow thickly and shake your head. 

“N-no,” you stutter, sitting up slightly. You admire the way pearly beads of precome trail down his length and subconsciously lick your lips. 

“No.” You can feel his stare on the side of your face, but you can’t focus on anything except the cock in front of you that has you drooling while your cunt begs to be filled. “Want this, sweet girl, jus’ as bad as you, and that ain’t gonna change tomorrow or the day after or next week. I want this,” he says, and he says it with such confidence and surety that you have no choice but to believe him. You nod, almost in a trance, before bending over and pressing a chaste kiss to his fat head. 

He must not have been expecting that response from you because at the contact of your lips against his hard member, his head falls back against the seat and he groans, the sound drawing out when you start to press soft kitten licks to his slit. 

“That’s it, honey – fuck, feels good.” You preen under his praise, smirking as you spread your lips to wrap around his tip. He hisses through his teeth, and the noise is all you need to start slowly working him down your throat. He’s so big, and even just the head of his cock has your jaw straining slightly.

You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to take him fully in your mouth, that you’ll have to use one, if not both hands to stroke the rest of his long, thick dick as you focus your attention on the head. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. 

You pull off of him quickly, and he responds with a disappointed little grunt, mouth turned down in a depressing little frown. That is, until he watches you spit into your hand and place your palm around his base, stroking him slowly. A lopsided smile replaces his previous expression and when you twist your fist at the same time your mouth latches back onto his cock, he can’t help but jerk his hips. Joel’s thrust makes his tip kiss the back of your throat and it takes you by surprise, making you gag.

You watch his eyes go wide in worry as he immediately murmurs, “‘m sorry, baby,” his voice utterly wrecked. You lick from the space your fist occupies and swirl your tongue over him a few times, looking into his eyes as you catch your breath. 

“S’okay, Joel,” you purr, lips against him as his cock twitches at the low cadence of your voice. “I can handle it, I won’t break.” And then you’re right back to easing him down your throat. Drool dribbles from your mouth as you work him in your fist, stroking and twisting and pulling while your tongue focuses on the sensitive area you’ve discovered just under his head. 

The cab of the truck fills with the melody of your slick mouth sucking Joel off, punctuated by the sweet sounds falling from his lips. Joel isn’t a particularly talkative person, but you’re incredibly happy to find that all that changed when your head was bobbing up and down his length. 

“Good girl, perfect fuckin’ girl,” he grits out, tightening his hand into a fist and slamming it against his window a few times as he struggles to keep his hips stationary. You hum around him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to thread into your hair to encourage him to move. A throaty groan rips through him as he realizes what you’re asking, and he thrusts lightly into your mouth. 

You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper than he had been just a minute ago, and the feeling of being so utterly full of him makes you whine, shuffling slightly to relieve the pressure building at the apex of your thighs. 

“Y’like that, sweetheart? Like when I fuck your pretty face?” The utter filth he’s spewing at you makes you gasp and whimper, and he laughs almost smugly at your reaction to his words. “Yeahhh, you like that. Go on, baby, touch yourself while you suck my cock.” You don’t have to be told twice, snaking your hand down to rub frantically at your aching clit while he slowly, gently jerks his hips into the tight, warm, wet vice of your mouth. 

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time, seeing as how you were already thoroughly worked up from your little display at the restaurant and everything that’s transpired in Joel’s truck since. Actually, if you’re being honest, you’ve been soaking into your panties since that stunt you pulled in your room before you even made it to dinner. 

You feel stuffed to the brim, Joel’s cock hitting a spot in your throat over and over that has tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks to combine with your spit lathering his cock. He brushes his big thumb over the path a tear careens down, brushing away the wetness as he drags his hand down to cradle your throat. 

“Doin’ real good for me, doin’ perfect.” He squeezes lightly around your neck and curses. “Shit, darlin’, I can feel my cock right here.” He taps your throat and you whine, eyes rolling back as you rut desperately against your fingers. You’re so, so close, and you can tell that Joel is too by the way his tempered pace is growing more erratic, his shallow thrusts less controlled. The noises dripping from his lips to meet your ears are gruffer now too, words he’s failing to string into sentences as they're cut off by expletives and needy moans. 

Joel looses a low, gravelly groan that signals he’s mere moments from reaching his peak, and you hear him choke out, “Where do ya want it, baby?’ just as the pull of pleasure burning in your tummy goes taut. You don’t answer, opting instead to simply pull off of him and seat your open mouth at the head of his cock, sticking your tongue out and looking up into his face. Joel smirks as you continue jerking him off with the hand not paying attention to your clit, but his smile falls into a slack-jawed look of lust as his balls pull tight and he comes.

The thick ropes of warm cum spurting over your tongue and decorating the inside of your mouth are just what you need to push you into your own climax; your legs shake and you let a high-pitched sound ring through the truck cab as your cunt clenches hard around nothing, wetness seeping from your underwear and coating the insides of your thighs. 

Despite your own orgasm, you make sure to catch every last drop of Joel’s spend, holding it on your tongue for him to see. The space goes silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in your respective post-coital bliss as your eyes scan over each other. Your gaze hangs heavy as he takes in your sweaty, disheveled form languidly before landing back on your face. Joel shoots you an endearing, sweet look, before brushing the hair plastered to your sweaty forehead away from your face. 

“Go on, honey. Swallow it f’me.” You do as Joel says, swallowing the sticky fluid he’s shot down your throat, and you find the salty, tangy taste surprisingly pleasant. You clean the corners of your mouth where some of his seed landed with your thumb and, with his eyes on you, push the digit into your mouth, sucking it dry. The dirty act makes Joel shake his head and chuckle, and once you’ve finished, you open your mouth and tip your head back to show him that you’ve taken care of his mess. 

You both sit there for a while, just staring at each other with your head resting on his thigh as he strokes your cheek. You’d almost call the gesture loving, but you don’t want to be presumptuous. After a decent amount of time has passed and the stars have come to bear witness to your dirty deed, you turn your head and catch the pad of Joel’s thumb in a soft kiss. 

“Oughta get back,” you say, reluctantly breaking the silence. He nods, and you stay like that for a second longer before sitting back in your seat. Joel starts the truck and traverses down the lonely path toward the main road. As he pulls back out onto the black asphalt, likely still warm from the summer sun that’s long disappeared, you can’t help but wonder if this moment will forever belong to the space between that long stretch of prairie grass and corn stalks. 

You can’t help but hope that it won’t.

***

As Joel nears your development, you pull down the sun visor on your side and flip open the mirror. Your mouth falls open and a little gasp slips at the sight that meets your eyes. Joel must hear it because his gaze flickers in your direction. 

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks, worry lacing your tone, and you almost giggle at his concern. 

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” you groan, raking your fingers through the hair that Joel’s fingers knotted. Your lips are swollen and chapped, your eyelids heavy with the look of lust, and there’s a track of mascara streaking down your cheek from your tears. To put it bluntly, you look like you’ve been freshly fucked. 

Joel looks at you again and barks out a laugh as he turns down your street; he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park so that he can turn to you more fully. You’re frantically trying to will the bright blush on your cheeks indicative of sex from your cheeks as you wipe furiously at the now-dried trail of black mascara. 

“Waterproof” my ass. 

Your head snaps in Joel’s direction when you hear him chuckle again, your eyes wide with a plea for help. He shrugs, smirking slightly. “Better get inside ‘fore someone sees ya, or else they’ll know what we’ve been up to.” 

You know he’s teasing, but his words make you deflate slightly nonetheless as they feel a little bit like he’s kicking you out; however, you steel yourself quickly. There was nothing for him to kick you out of, and it was silly of you to think otherwise. Sure, you’d just sucked his dick and made him come down your throat. And, yeah, maybe he’d almost gotten caught with his hand between your legs at dinner. But that didn’t mean anything. 

Just two adults engaging in a casual hookup. That’s all.

Even as you try and convince yourself of this, your reasoning, and consequently your attitude, falls flat. You grunt with thinly veiled annoyance as you grab the door handle and make to leave. “Could’ve jus’ parked at your house, I woulda walked,” you mutter, irritation simmering in your gut as you go to open the door, but then a strong hand reaches across your lap to wrap around your hand on the handle and pull it back shut.

When you try again and are met with the same result, you huff and turn, coming face to face with Joel. His brows are furrowed and the corner of his plush lips are turned down. You hate yourself for wanting to kiss him right now, even though he’s actively telling you to go while not allowing you to do so. 

“What?” you bite out, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to. He squeezes your hand, and you feel tension you didn’t realize was making your body go rigid ease. 

“What’s a’matter, baby?” The pet name makes you blush, and now you feel even more stupid. 

“Nothin’,” you lie. Rather convincingly too, you think proudly, until Joel cocks an eyebrow and informs you just how shoddy your facade is. 

“Know ya too well t’believe that bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” You huff, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You drop your hands into your lap, eyes falling to watch your thumbs twiddle. You don’t think you can look into those all-consuming brown eyes right now. 

“Jus’... I dunno, bein’ dumb. Thought you were kickin’ me out or somethin’.” You shrug indifferently, and he sits there for a second, watching you fidget nervously. You see him scan your surroundings out of the corner of your eye, making sure no prying eyes are around, and before you can even react, Joel’s gripping the back of your neck and turning your head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. You melt into him, sighing in relief at the feeling of his tongue licking the seam of your mouth.

You stay like that, greedily tasting each other. Or, in Joel’s case, greedily tasting the lingering flavor of himself in your mouth. He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving and eyes dark, and you lick your lips and grin at him. 

“I’ll see ya soon, baby,” he says with conviction, and you nod slowly. But apparently your response isn’t convincing enough for him, because he pulls you in closer and says against your lips slowly, “I will see you soon.” 

“Okay,” you breathe into his mouth, and he kisses you chastely once, twice before opening your door and tapping your thigh. 

“Now get.” You smile, hopping out of his car, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way to your front door. Even when you’ve disappeared into your house, you can feel the brand of his gaze on your flesh. 

You watch through the window as he sits in his truck for another minute, and then he reverses down your driveway and pulls into the one next door, hopping out of his truck and leisurely heading up to his front door. You watch him walk into his house, and only then do you stop watching.

You’re not entirely sure how you get up to your bedroom, but you’re almost able to believe that you floated there like an apparition, head airy and thoughts bordering on dream-like. When you collapse on your bed, your mind is on the feel of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, of his cock thrusting into your throat, of what that same tongue and those same thrusts might feel like in your pussy. 

What you’re not thinking about is how utterly fucked you are. You’d told yourself once that you wouldn’t be able to do a thing like this with Joel because you’d never have your fill, always wanting more after that first initial taste of him. But you’d gone against your better judgment tonight, and now that little crack of yearning had split into a yawning chasm of want; greedy and unsatiated and hungry. 

Hungry for one thing, one person, one man: Joel Miller.

Yeah, you were fucked

___________________________________________________________

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dad!joel miller #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel fic #joel the last of us