duckthepatriarchy

Latest Posts by duckthepatriarchy

ik it's been a while since you made the book rec post but i think you would enjoy lights out by navessa allen

AHHH I LOOOOOVE THIS BOOK!! It lowkey put me into a reading slump after I read it and I'm still so obsessed with it. Then I listened to the audiobook where Josh is narrated by Jacob Morgan and that man's voice is SO FUCKING HOT! Also I think the book made me so obsessed with the "dark stalker dom but still golden retriever boyfriend" character trope UGH IT'S JUST SO GOOD

masterpost for easy findings

wolf hybrid breeds lost bunny hybrid

used by your friend’s parent

witch accidentally summons the wrong demon

pirate fucks voiceless mermaid-turned-human

cockwarming turns into bathroom fucking

stepmom punishes you for being a brat

mean stepsis making you cry on her cock, part 2

college gym coach is extra hard on you

pent-up roommate using your ass for release

dance captain gives you a warm welcome

brother’s roommate fucks your ass in secret

boyfriend’s stepsister eats your holes

insatiable succubus breaks and breeds innocent fae, part 2

wolf!hybrid roommate uses your holes whenever he wants

ruthless queen ruins your ass and makes you her slave

witch roommate needs help after a spell-gone-wrong

best friend sells you out to a demon

camgirl roommate and her boyfriend featuring you

orc hunter claims your holes

demon and succubus filling up your holes

best friend and her stepmother fills your womb

evil queen uses orc pet to interrogate you

[“Oftentimes when we think about preparing for penetrative sex, we think about the willingness and readiness of the penetrator: a penis becoming a boner, a dildo being lubed up. And yes, sadly, a phallus can usually make its way inside a canal whether the canal is ready or not. But wet and swollen pussies and rectums and throats are, simply put, better for fucking.

That’s one of the many advantages of fisting for people who enjoy being penetrated: unlike a cylindrical phallus, it requires patience and finesse to get the considerably bumpier shape of a hand inside. It’s easier for most penises to slip into most vaginas or rectums, but “easy” doesn’t necessarily translate to “more pleasurable” for anyone involved. Fisting emphasizes what the fistee wants and needs in order to relax and open, which changes the act of penetration from “let’s get this done” to “let’s take our time.” It’s not that it always requires hours of tantric foreplay: I’ve seen people swallow hands in a matter of minutes. But fisting tops and bottoms do need to be attuned to each other more than in any other kind of intercourse.

Adamczak mentions fisting several times in her piece (“a closed hand around a dildo, of lips around a foot, of a vagina stretched over a fist”). To my mind, getting fisted is the ultimate act of circlusion, even if the term itself refers to the penetrating body part. Fisting necessitates communication, patience, finesse, embodied listening, and active breathwork. This may go some way toward explaining why fisters tend to enter a meditative, trance-like state. Fisting requires intentional engagement from the bottom, because in order to take a fist you really have to breathe deeply, to communicate about slowing down or wanting more, to reach for the poppers, to ask for the lube. And these are all things bottoms could be doing all the time, but fisting takes us out of our assumptions that the bottom is there to satisfy the top’s lust, to simply take it. A fistee must be a size queen, someone who loves to be filled up with something massive. Opening to a fist is a trust fall for everyone involved. When your hand is deep inside someone, you can feel their heart beating back against you. Sometimes when I’m up to my wrist in an aroused, engorged bottom, watching and feeling and listening to and smelling a partner so aroused they’re thrashing and bearing down and grasping back and contracting over and over, I think: Why would you fuck a hole that isn’t turned on? Sure, I take pride in turning people on and driving them insane with ecstasy, but fucking an engorged hole is just more fun, like bouncing on a trampoline or being tossed into the air by a taut parachute, with all the verve that inspires.

It’s not just penises that enjoy being circluded either. Clit heads respond to pressing and smashing and mashing, especially once they’ve been teased into arousal. The suction of a mouth or pump toy vacuum sealed around the vulva can create the feeling that your junk is swollen enough to put inside of something or someone. “What matters is not what parts a body possesses, but rather, which parts are put into action,” concludes Adamczak, and this is a queer manifesto bigger than circlusion, bigger even than fisting. When we reinvent and remap our anatomy for the purpose of pleasure, we leave behind inherited anxiety and shame around what our bodies are capable of, opening wide to engulf the future.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

dirty work

You just bought a new house that needed a lot of work. Luckily, your grumpy old neighbor was more than happy to fix everything—not because he was generous, but because it gave him an excuse to be close. To look. To stare. And you? Love the attention.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, hotgirl!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, filthy dirty talk, desperate!Joel, pervy!Joel, pathetic!Joel, age gap, Joel being down bad, obsessive staring, possessiveness, mild power play, teasing, so much cum (like he literally can’t stop), Joel not having sex in decades and it shows, Hot girl reader knowing she's hot, Joel being completely ruined by your pussy, and you loving every second of it

11k. Enjoy!

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The house needed work. And probably a priest.

It wasn’t falling apart, but it also wasn’t move-in ready.

The kitchen faucet screamed whenever you turned it on, wailing like it had unfinished business in this world. The porch stairs were one strong gust away from sending someone straight to the ER- or the grave. 

The back gate swung open on its own, which was either a poltergeist or just bad hinges, but either way, it sent an unsettling creak through the yard at odd hours of the night.

The lights flickered sometimes. The water pressure was unpredictable. The floors creaked loud enough to make you think twice before sneaking around in the dark.

But it was cheap. And it had potential.

And you?

You weren’t a DIY girlie, but you could figure shit out. Probably…. Maybe. 

You did have a certain level of misplaced confidence that made you think you could tackle anything with enough trial and error.

The problem was—so far, it had been mostly errors.

Your first attempt at fixing the faucet resulted in a flood that had you sprinting to turn the water off before your kitchen turned into a slip-and-slide.

Trying to replace a light fixture nearly ended with you electrocuting yourself into another dimension. 

And the less said about the unfortunate caulking incident of last Thursday, the better.

Still, you were determined. A little clueless? Sure. But determined.

You wiped sweat from your brow, standing in front of your latest challenge: the front door. It didn’t latch properly. It wasn’t quite crooked, but something was off. The hinges, maybe? You had no idea. 

You just knew that a strong wind could blow the damn thing off, which wasn’t ideal for your safety or your sanity.

So there you were, kneeling on the porch, staring at a pile of tools you weren’t entirely sure how to use, the manual open beside you like it was about to offer some divine intervention.

You twisted the screwdriver in your hand, frowning at the misaligned screws. “Alright, bitch,” you muttered to the door, rolling your shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

And that was when a shadow fell over you.

A heavy presence.

You turned, blinking up at the broad figure standing at the foot of your porch.

Joel Miller.

Your neighbor. Big, built, silent as the grave. Old as fuck.

You’d seen him around—on his porch, smoking, reading the newspaper, doing old people things and watching. Always watching.

Never introduced himself. Never waved. Never made an effort. Just sat there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes unreadable, watching the world pass him by.

Watching you.

At first, you thought it was your imagination. A trick of the heat, the way his dark eyes always seemed to linger just a little too long before darting away. But then, as the weeks passed, you realized it wasn’t just some coincidence.

Joel Miller was looking. A lot.

From behind the safety of his porch, through his truck window when he pulled into the driveway, stealing glances while pretending to tinker with something outside—he was always looking.

He wasn’t the type to catcall or whistle or let his jaw drop like some dumb, desperate idiot. No, but he did openly watch, with that brooding, set-jaw expression, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, fighting the urge to jump.

A man seeing something he wanted—something he knew he couldn’t have.

And, honestly? It was kinda hot.

You love a pathetic man.

Pathetic in the way only a man like him could be- big and strong and old enough to know better, yet still sitting on his porch like some clueless teenager, hopelessly caught in your orbit.

Joel had spent his entire life working.

Calloused hands. Aching back. A routine as grey and dull as the pavement he walked on. He wasn’t a talk-to-women kind of guy. He was a build-shit-and-keep-his-mouth-shut kind of guy.

He had probably spent years without even thinking about sex. Not because he didn’t want it—fuck, of course, he did—but because who the hell would even let him?

The man was a relic.

Pushing sixty. Grumpy. Built like a man who had done nothing but work his whole life—because that’s exactly what he had done.

No wife. No girlfriend. Nothing.

He didn’t flirt. Didn’t go out. Didn’t fucking bother.

Just work, fix, sleep. Get off when he needed to—always alone, always quick, no one to fucking hear him.

That was life.

And then you moved in next door.

And Joel broke.

Because Jesus Christ.

You.

Soft and sweet and fucking perfect—so young, so pretty, so effortlessly sexy.

You weren’t just beautiful. You were something else entirely.

Something cruel.

With your tiny little skirts and tight little tops, walking around like it wasn’t a goddamn crime to be that fucking perfect.

Joel shouldn’t have been looking.

Knew he shouldn’t memorize the way your tits bounced when you jogged past his house.

Shouldn’t have let himself watch the way you stretched on the porch, or walked in those obscene little shorts, or sunbathed out back with your top straps pulled down—looking so fucking soft, like you were made to be touched.

Made to be ruined.

It was sick.

And he didn’t care.

Because at night, when his house was quiet and the only thing in his bed was his own hand, Joel let himself imagine what it would be like to pull you onto his lap or spread you open, bury his face between your thighs and never fucking leave.

To get his mouth on you.

God, he was so hungry for it.

And the worst part?

He was pretty sure you knew.

It was pathetic.

And he fucking knew it.

But he couldn’t stop.

And right now, his gaze was locked on you.

Or, more accurately—your thighs.

You were still kneeling, skin glistening in the summer heat, your tiny skirt barely covering anything. Joel looked like a man who had just seen God.

His throat bobbed.

His fingers flexed.

Then, abruptly—his eyes snapped up.

“Need a hand?” His voice was rough, all gravel and rust.

You tilted your head, dragging your gaze over him.

You smirked.

“I got it,” you said simply.

Joel didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

“…No, you don’t.”

And before you could argue, he was stepping forward.

Taking the screwdriver right out of your hand.

And just fucking fixing it.

Like it was nothing.

Like you weren’t even there.

· · ──𖥸

From that day on, Joel… kinda never left.

Not literally. Not in a way that you could call him out on.

But he was always there.

At first, it was little things. Fixing what you couldn’t. Offering a hand when you were clearly struggling. Showing up at the exact right time, tools in hand, that furrow between his brows like you’d personally offended him by even attempting to fix something yourself.

Then, it escalated.

Because you didn’t even have to ask anymore.

He was just there.

On your porch. In your yard. Pretending to check something in his truck but really just looking at you while you stretched in the morning, your tight little tank clinging to every inch of you.

The excuses started getting thinner, too.

At first, it was, “Saw the porch light flickerin’. Just figured I’d fix it before it got worse.”

Then, it became, “Just keepin’ busy.”

Then, no excuse at all.

Just Joel, lingering around your property, finding any reason to be near you, any reason to work himself into a sweat just for the chance to look at you up close.

Because that was his payment.

His reward.

Every little smile, every little laugh. The way your tits moved when you pointed at something needed fixing. The way you stretched just right, your little skirts and shorts riding up, flashing soft, smooth skin that made Joel’s head spin.

He didn’t even need you to talk to him.

Didn’t need you to flirt.

Just existing was enough.

So he worked.

For free.

Because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

You made him feel like some pathetic old pervert.

Standing around like a useless extra in the movie that was your perfect fucking life.

A washed-up, near-sixty-year-old loser with a bad back, a lonely house, and a dick that hadn’t worked properly in years.

And now?

Now, he nearly was hard all the time.

No blue pills. No coaxing. No thinking about some old porn magazine he had tucked away for emergencies.

Just your voice, your body, the way you smelled, the way you looked at him when you handed him a lemonade like he was doing something special—when all he was doing was fixing your fucking sink.

And the worst part?

He was leaking.

Like a damn teenager.

Hadn’t been this sensitive in decades.

And yet, here he was—barely keeping it together, feeling the way his cock throbbed and ached, fucking dripped inside his jeans while you leaned in, smiling, teasing—

“Thank you, Joel!”

Fuck.

That voice.

All sweet and grateful and warm, and it was fucking nothing. Just three little words.

And yet, his whole body reacted like you had just whispered something filthy in his ear.

Like you had just gotten on your knees, licked your lips, and told him

Sit back, Joel. Let me take care of you.

God, he was fucked.

So he mowed your lawn.

Fixed your AC unit.

Made sure the fence was latched, the gate was locked, the pipes weren’t leakin’.

And when he wasn’t fixing shit inside?

He was finding things to do outside.

Hammering shit that didn’t need hammering.

Cleaning tools that weren’t even his.

Anything. Anything.

Just to be there.

· · ──𖥸

Joel looked wrecked.

Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt, his broad shoulders sagging as he finally took a seat at the kitchen table he had just fixed for you.

His hands were rough and calloused, veins prominent, fingers flexing against the cool surface as he exhaled, deep and slow. He looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that clung to a man who had spent the whole day pushing his body to the limit.

And yet, even now, after hours of working himself to the bone, he was still staring.

Not at the food you’d set down in front of him, not at the cold glass of iced tea dripping condensation onto the table, not even at his own aching hands that had spent all damn day making sure every little thing in your house was perfect.

He was staring at your tits.

You noticed it immediately, of course. How could you not? Joel wasn’t exactly subtle.

His dark, hungry gaze stayed fixed on your chest, drinking in the way your tank top clung to you, damp with heat, the fabric just a little too thin, a little too low. His hands twitched every so often, like he had to physically stop himself from reaching out.

He barely responded when you spoke, offering little more than a grunt here and there, a slow nod, an occasional hum of acknowledgment. Not because he wasn’t listening, but because he was completely fucking gone.

And you?

You smirked.

Because this wasn’t new.

Joel Miller had been looking at you like this for weeks now, like a starving man watching a meal just out of reach, a man standing in the desert watching water slip through his fingers.

And he thought he was hiding it.

He wasn’t.

You leaned forward slightly, trailing a finger through the condensation on your glass, watching his Adam’s apple bob when his eyes immediately flicked down again, drawn like a magnet.

You waited. Let it stew. Let the tension stretch thick and heavy between you until you could practically hear the way he was grinding his teeth together, working his jaw, trying to think of something—anything—other than the way your tits were right there.

Then, casually, you spoke.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Joel didn’t move at first.

Didn’t even seem to register your words right away.

Just blinked, slow and dazed, before finally dragging his gaze back up to your face, blinking again, like he had just been pulled out of something deep.

“…Huh?”

His voice was thick, rough like gravel, his fingers flexing again before clenching into loose fists.

You tilted your head slightly, letting your gaze flick down to your own chest, then back up to him, pointedly.

“You like ’em?”

For a moment, Joel just sat there.

Silent.

Completely fucking still.

Then, finally, he exhaled. A slow, measured breath, dragging a hand down his face like he was collecting himself, trying to piece together a response that didn’t immediately give him away.

And then, voice lower, rougher, wrecked—

“…What’s there not to like?”

Oh?

That shouldn’t have affected you the way it did.

But it did.

The way he said it, low and warm and dripping with something dark, something dangerous. The way he looked at you when he said it, like he was memorizing every inch of you, like he needed to burn the sight into his brain.

A slow heat unfurled low in your belly, sinking between your thighs, pooling thick and molten as you shifted in your seat, pressing your legs together, suddenly very aware of how wet you were getting.

And Joel knew it.

Because his eyes flicked down for a split second, watching the way you shifted, the way your breath caught ever so slightly, and his fingers clenched tighter against the table.

And then, voice slow, teasing, stretching out the moment—

“Hmmm.”

You tapped a finger against your chin, watching the way his dark eyes tracked your movements, like he couldn’t help it, like he had no control over the way his body responded to you.

And then, soft and syrupy—

“You know, Joel… I feel kinda bad.”

Joel didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Just stared.

You watched the slow, deliberate way he swallowed, the way his whole body seemed to tense under the weight of those words, the muscles in his arms flexing as his fingers curled against the table.

“…Bad?”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“For letting you do all this work without paying you back.”

There was a beat of silence.

Joel’s fingers flexed. His breath stuttered, sharp and uneven. You could see the battle happening in his head—his morals, his age, the voice in his head screaming this is wrong, you’re too old, don’t do this—

And yet.

When he spoke, it was wrecked.

“…Can I just—”

Joel swallowed hard.

His voice dropped lower, raspier, barely even a sound.

“Can I just see you? Look at you?”

The words sent a jolt of something electric through you, made your skin heat, your pulse quicken, made that molten heat in your belly throb.

You smiled. Slow. Sweet.

Cruel.

"You wanna see me, Joel?"

His breath hitched.

His fingers twitched.

He nodded, almost absently, his mouth falling open, chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths.

You dragged your nails lightly up your stomach, over your ribs, the movement subtle, slow, making him watch.

Your hands went to the hem of your tank top, your fingers curling around the fabric, slowly dragging it up.

Joel’s pupils blew wide.

His lips parted.

His breath hitched.

And when you pulled it over your head, letting it drop to the floor, you saw it.

The way his fingers clenched so hard around the edge of the table that his knuckles went white, like he needed to physically hold himself back.

You sat there in just your bra, running your hands up your stomach, over your ribs, tilting your head slightly as you murmured—

“Like this?”

Joel made a noise that was almost a groan, almost a curse, a low, strangled thing that caught in his throat as his eyes devoured you.

He swallowed again, hard, blinking like he was trying to process what was happening.

Then—rough, hoarse, desperate—

“…Please. Everything.”

So you did.

You reached behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra with a slow, deliberate flick of your fingers, letting the straps slip down your arms before shrugging it off completely.

And Joel lost the last shred of restraint he had.

His breath hitched—a sharp, audible inhale, like he had just been punched in the gut.

His eyes dropped from your eyes instantly, dragged down like they had no choice, like the second your tits were bare, he was physically incapable of looking anywhere else.

And fuck.

The sound that tore from his throat was something low, deep, filthy— not even a real word, just a groan, guttural and needy, his lips parting, his tongue darting out, his whole fucking body reacting like he was a man who had been starving his whole goddamn life, and now?

Now he was looking at the best fucking meal he’d ever seen.

Because Jesus Christ.

Your tits?

They were perfect.

So fucking full and soft, high and round, plump little handfuls of heaven that he’d been imagining for weeks, and now? Now they were right there.

And your nipples—fuck.

They were already hard, tight little peaks sitting pretty, puckered and aching, begging for something—a touch, a mouth, something wet and warm.

They looked so fucking sweet, like they’d feel so soft, like they’d taste so good on his tongue.

Joel groaned.

A rough, heavy sound, his jaw clenching so fucking hard it was a miracle his teeth didn’t crack, his entire body tensing like it physically hurt him to just sit there and look and not touch.

And then, voice wrecked, strained, barely even a whisper—

“Best goddamn tits I’ve ever seen.”

You smirked, slow and teasing, shifting slightly, making them bounce just a little, the movement so subtle, but his whole body jerked.

“Yeah?”

Joel grunted, a deep, broken noise, his breath stuttering, his fingers flexing.

“Yeah.”

His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths.

His hips shifted.

And you noticed.

The way his jeans were tight.

The way a wet patch darkened the denim.

The way his entire body looked like it was straining under the weight of his own need.

And then, voice breaking, groaning—

“Thank you, Sweetheart.”

Your breath caught.

Because that?

That sounded filthy.

Low, wrecked, grateful.

Like just seeing you was some kind of mercy.

His thighs tensed. His hands twitched. His eyes stayed locked on you, burning, devouring, drowning.

You dragged your hands up your own stomach, slow and lazy, brushing your fingers over the soft curves of your breasts, rolling your thumbs over your hardened nipples, smirking when you heard his breath hitch.

“You wanna touch ‘em, Joel?” you murmured, soft and syrupy, voice dipped in honey.

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, like the question alone was enough to wreck him.

“Fuck yeah.”

He didn’t wait for permission.

Didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t fucking think.

His hands were on you before the words even fully left his mouth—grabbing, groping, squeezing like he was starving for it, like he’d been fantasizing about this for so long that the second he finally had them in his palms, he lost every ounce of restraint.

And Jesus fuck, his hands were big.

Rough.

Strong.

Decades of hard labor carved into every thick callus, every flex of his fingers, every hungry, greedy, desperate grab.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he muttered, voice wrecked, almost dazed as he kneaded your tits, rolling them in his palms, squeezing like he needed to memorize the way they felt—like he’d never get this chance again.

He groaned, deep and filthy, fingers digging in, rough fingertips brushing over your stiff nipples, making you suck in a sharp breath as heat licked through your veins.

“So fuckin’ soft,” he rasped, thumbing over the tight little peaks, watching the way your body reacted to him, your back arching, breath hitching.

Joel felt that.

“Feel good, baby?” he rasped, voice a low, guttural thing, dragging his calloused fingers over your nipples again, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, watching your reaction like a starving man watching a meal.

You swallowed hard, a shiver running through you, your thighs pressing together. Fuck.

Your nipples were so sensitive, tingling with every swipe, every flick, every dirty little touch of his rough fingers.

“Yeah,” you breathed, biting your lip, arching into his touch, letting him take what he wanted.

Joel groaned again, deep and needy, gripping your tits harder, pushing them together, squeezing, kneading, fucking obsessed.

His thumbs twisted your nipples, slow and deliberate, watching the way they hardened even further, standing up all soft and pink, looking so fucking suckable.

“Jesus,” he muttered again, voice dropping lower, rougher. “Look at these pretty tits.”

His fingers pinched, tugged, twisted just right—just enough to make you gasp, a soft little sound that sent a lightning bolt of pure fucking need straight to his cock.

He grinned.

A dark, hungry thing.

And then, voice gritted, thick with lust—

“Bet they taste even better.”

“Can I-”

Before he could even finish asking, you were already shushing him, already threading your fingers into his graying hair and pulling his face down, guiding him straight to where he belonged.

Joel went willingly.

Mouth first.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Joel yanked you into his lap, gripping you like you might disappear, like this was a dream he’d wake up from if he let go for even a second.

His knees ached against the floor, his back twinged in warning, but he didn’t give a fuck. Not when you were straddling him, warm and soft, tits in his face like some fucking gift from God.

His mouth sealed over your nipple, pulling at it with an obscene, wet suckle, tongue flattening before flicking, rolling, teasing the sensitive bud until it was aching, stiff, raw.

Just a wrecked, filthy groan, muffled against your soft, warm skin as he was sucking deep, sucking hard, sucking wet.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned into your skin, voice ragged, his breath hot and heavy against your breast.

He was loud.

Not in words—because words didn’t matter anymore.

But in the way he suckled, the way his lips sealed tight, how he groaned and slurped and moaned, every single sound of his mouth on you wet and obscene, filling the space around you.

His tongue swiped up, then down, then circled—slow at first, then faster, flicking against the stiff bud before pulling it into his mouth again, sealing his lips tight, sucking deep.

He couldn’t stop.

Didn’t even try.

His hands moved next, big, calloused fingers gripping your waist, dragging you closer, then sliding up to cup both tits in his palms, rough and desperate. 

“Oh—fuck, Joel—” your breath hitched, the sharp pull of his mouth sending a jolt straight between your thighs.

He groaned—deep, guttural, filthy.

“Goddamn, baby—”

Then, harder.

His fingers squeezed tighter, thumbs brushing over your nipples, pinching the one he wasn’t sucking on, rolling it between his fingertips, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

You felt his breath stutter—like he was about to lose it completely—before he pulled off with a wet, sucking pop, spit connecting his lips to your nipple, slick and shining.

He stared.

Breathing ragged. Eyes dark, starving.

And then he dived right back in.

Latching onto the other like a man possessed, groaning into it like he was trying to drink from you, ruin you, consume you.

His hands never stopped.

He hugged you closer, pulling you right into him, pressing your tits together, mashing them up against his face, smothering himself in them.

“So fuckin’ soft, baby—” he rasped, licking, suckling, tongue dragging slow circles around your nipple before he sealed his lips and sucked deep again.

“So fuckin’ sweet—”

He switched between them like he couldn’t pick a favorite, couldn’t decide, couldn’t stop.

His tongue flicked, his lips sucked, his teeth grazed, sending shocks of pleasure straight between your legs.

Your breath hitched.

Your back arched.

Because he wasn’t just playing around.

This wasn’t just teasing.

This wasn’t some guy mouthing at your tits before moving on.

No.

Joel was staying here.

Lingering.

Drowning in it.

Like he could suckle your tits for hours.

And then, voice low, gravelly, wrecked—

“Baby…”

You hummed, already smirking.

He swallowed thickly, his fingers tracing absent circles against your ribs, his voice barely above a whisper—

“Lemme see you.”

Your smirk widened.

“See what, Joel?”

He groaned, head dropping against your shoulder for half a second like he physically needed to collect himself. His nose brushed along your jaw, leaving small kisses, hot breath fanning against your skin, and then—

“Sweetheart, please,” he rasped. “Lemme see that pretty little pussy.”

Your stomach tightened, heat flaring low, but you didn’t let it show. Not yet.

Instead, you stretched, slow and indulgent, arching just slightly, your tits pushing up against his chest. “Hmmm,” you mused, tapping a manicured nail against your lip like you were actually considering it. “You worked so hard for me, didn't you, Joel?”

His jaw flexed. His hands slid down, gripping your thighs, squeezing.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he rasped. “Don’t tease me like this.”

You tilted your head, tapping your chin, dragging it out just a little longer—watching the way his fingers twitched, watching the way his pupils were blown black with hunger, watching the way his hips barely resisted the urge to rut up against you like he needed something, anything.

Then, finally, you sighed.

“Alright, old man,” you murmured, shifting in his lap, the movement making him groan. “Take me to the couch.”

Joel nearly fucking growled.

His arms came around you instantly, strong, needy, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you. Not struggling, not even hesitating—because fuck if you thought he was too old for this, fuck if you thought he wouldn’t show you exactly what he could do.

He laid you down like you were something delicate, something precious, his hands sliding over your body, down your sides, gripping your thighs, spreading you open just enough.

And then—his fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt.

Not pulling it down.

Just flipping it up.

Joel wasn’t breathing.

At least, it felt that way.

He couldn’t. Not with the way you were spread out in front of him, thighs parted, panties soaked, looking like the filthiest, prettiest fucking thing he’d ever seen in his goddamn life.

And the worst part?

You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

The way you stretched lazily, arching just a little, making your tits push forward. The way your lips curled in that slow, knowing smirk when you caught him staring, like you were indulging him, letting him look, letting him take in every fucking inch of you.

And Joel—Joel was gone.

His hands slid up your thighs, slow, reverent, rough fingertips dragging against soft skin, feeling the heat radiating off you.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, his voice low, dark, almost reverent.

Joel dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, gaze locked on the damp spot between your legs, so fucking dark, so fucking pretty.

His thumbs traced along the edges of your panties, brushing just barely over the damp patch at the center, groaning when he felt the way it stuck to you.

“So goddamn wet,” he murmured, almost to himself, shaking his head, his fingers flexing against your skin. “Been like this all night, little girl?”

You moaned, shifting slightly, watching the way his jaw clenched at the movement.

“Maybe,” you teased. “Not my fault you’ve been looking at me like that all day.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a low, ragged sound, his grip tightening.

Poor old man.

He was completely fucking gone.

“See something you like?” you teased, voice sweet, syrupy, making his jaw clench.

Joel exhaled through his nose, hands tightening where they rested on your thighs, fingers pressing in deep, like he needed to hold onto something, ground himself before he completely lost control.

“Baby,” he muttered, shaking his head, voice low and rough, thick with something desperate. “You’re fuckin’ evil.”

You laughed, slow and taunting, your nails dragging up the couch, watching the way his entire body tensed, like he was on the verge of snapping, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Am I?” you mused, tilting your head, watching him watch you.

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, his grip bruising now, his breath shuddering, his hips twitching like just the words alone were enough to ruin him.

And then—

He leaned in.

Pressed his face against your covered cunt, breathing deep, dragging his nose over the soaked fabric, his entire body shuddering, shaking, gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.

And fuck.

He moaned.

You smirked. Moaned.

Because you knew.

Knew exactly what kind of power you had over him. Knew that Joel Miller—this gruff, brooding old man who barely spoke to anyone, who’d spent his life working, fixing, existing—was utterly wrecked over you.

And right now, he was on his knees, rubbing his face against your soaked panties, inhaling like the scent of your cunt was the only thing keeping him alive.

You loved it.

“Mm, you really like it down there, huh?” You moaned dragging your nails through his hair, watching the way his whole body twitched, the way he groaned against you, his nose pressing harder into the damp fabric covering your pussy.

Joel barely lifted his head, just enough to look at you, eyes so dark they were nearly black, lips slick with his own spit. His fingers flexed against your thighs like he was fighting himself—like he wanted to tear those panties off and bury himself in you, but he was holding back.

Barely.

“Like?” he rasped, voice wrecked. His tongue darted out, swiping over his bottom lip, like he was tasting the scent of you in the air.

He groaned.

“Pretty girl, I’m fuckin’ obsessed.”

You moaned. Tilting your hips just slightly, pressing up into his face, watching the way his eyes fluttered, the way his breath stuttered like just feeling your heat against his lips was too much.

“Oh yeah?” Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging. “Then show me.”

Joel didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t think.

Didn’t breathe.

He just acted.

His hands shot up, gripping the waistband of your panties, and for a second, you thought he was going to rip them off you. But no—Joel was feeling something nastier.

Instead, he grabbed the soaked fabric, pulled it tight against your cunt, wedging it between your slick folds, pressing the thin material right into your aching clit.

You gasped.

“Ohhh, fuck—”

Joel groaned, a deep, filthy sound from the pit of his chest as he rubbed the fabric against you, slow at first, then harder, pressing it between your lips, letting the damp, sticky material drag over your throbbing clit.

His nose dragged over the outline of your swollen pussy, mouth parted, tongue slipping out to taste the wet spot directly over your entrance, groaning like it was the best thing he’d ever fucking put in his mouth.

“Jesus fuck,” he growled. “S’soaked, girl. Look at this fuckin’ mess. You see this?” He rubbed the fabric in deeper, groaning at the way it stuck to your folds, the way your slick smeared against it, making it wetter, stickier.

You moaned, hips rolling, pushing against his mouth, chasing the friction.

“Joel—”

He growled again, gripping your thighs tight, keeping you spread as he bit down gently on the covered part of your clit, tugging with his teeth, rolling it between them through the fabric.

You gasped.

Your back arched, hands flying to the couch, gripping the cushions for some kind of grounding because—holy fuck.

Joel chuckled. Chuckled. A deep, perverse sound.

“Ohh, you like that, hm?”

He pressed his tongue flat against your clit through your panties, sucking at the damp fabric, like he was trying to drink you through it, humming like he could taste you, even with the barrier in the way.

Then—

His teeth latched onto the thin cotton, gripping the wet spot over your entrance, and he pulled.

A sharp, precise tug.

Dragging the panties against your cunt, making them slide against your soaked folds, pressing them deeper, wedging them between your swollen lips, rubbing everything.

You fucking whimpered.

Joel moaned against you, rutting his hips against the couch, pressing his nose right against your slit, inhaling, sucking, rubbing his face all over your cunt like a man starved.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, nuzzling you, his voice dripping with filth. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ warm, baby. So fuckin’ messy. Leakin’ all over these little panties—bet they’re ruined, huh?”

Your thighs shook. Your breath stuttered.

Your fingers curled tight in his hair, tugging, and he moaned again, loud, tongue slipping out to drag slow, wet strokes over the damp fabric, gathering everything before pressing it back against your cunt, making you feel how fucking messy you were.

His hands—those big, rough, work-worn hands—slid up your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open, thumbs pressing into your soft skin as he finally, finally hooked his fingers into your panties and peeled them off.

He groaned when they stuck.

When your slick clung to the fabric.

When he had to drag them down your legs because they were soaked.

And then—

You were bare.

Wet.

Dripping.

All for him.

Joel sat back on his heels, staring.

His fingers flexed, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head, voice deep and wrecked.

Then, dark eyes flicking up to yours, a slow, filthy grin stretching across his face—

“Oh, baby…” He groaned.

“I’m gonna ruin you.”

His voice was a wreck, almost a whisper, full of awe, full of filth, full of something desperate and hungry.

Because you were fucking perfect.

Your pussy was obscene.

Pink and swollen and glistening, folds spread, sticky and slick, so wet you were practically dripping onto the couch. 

Your clit—puffy, throbbing—begging for attention, twitching every time Joel’s hot breath ghosted over you. 

The dim light caught on the shine of your arousal, making everything look impossibly wet, messy, fucking ruined.

And Joel?

Joel was losing his goddamn mind.

His breath hitched, a low, wrecked groan ripping from his chest, his fingers flexing hard against your thighs, like he was physically restraining himself from lunging forward and devouring you whole.

“Fuck me.” His voice came out rough, strangled, barely even a whisper. “Look at that messy little pussy. S’so fuckin’ wet for me, baby.”

You hummed, stretching out against the couch like you had all the time in the world, arching just slightly making your tits look so good, making yourself even softer, even easier, even more of a temptation.

“Yeah?” Your voice was all gasped, all teasing, your hips rolling up just a little, just enough to make the slick between your thighs glisten in the low light. “You like her, Joel?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring, eyes blown dark and wide, locked on your cunt like it was hypnotizing him, pulling him under.

He let out a rough, humorless laugh, shaking his head, squeezing your thighs just a little tighter. “Baby, I’ll never let go of her.”

That smirk stretched slow across your lips, your thighs parting just a little more, an open invitation, a silent dare.

Joel groaned—deep, guttural, painful.

And then he snapped.

His big, rough hands grabbed you, dragging you down the couch with no warning, tugging you toward him until your ass was hanging off the edge, his broad shoulders wedged between your thighs, his face—his mouth—right where he wanted it.

And then—

A long, wet, messy lick.

Tongue flat, broad, dragging over your slit, catching every drop of slick, lapping it up, his nose bumping against your mound, his groan muffled as he tasted you.

And Jesus fuck—he growled.

“Goddamn, baby… this sloppy little pussy.” His voice was hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to catch another drop of arousal, swallowing it down, his thumbs spreading you open even wider. “Fuckin’ drippin’ all over my face.”

You whined, hips bucking, but Joel’s grip slammed you back down.

“Uh-uh,” he rasped, dragging his tongue up again, circling your clit, teasing, groaning loud like he was tasting something sinful, something addictive, something he was never gonna get enough of.

His lips wrapped around the swollen bud, pulling it into his mouth, sucking, his tongue flicking, his nose buried against your mound, his face pressed so deep in your pussy he was fucking drowning.

And he loved it.

You were soaked.

Dripping.

And Joel wanted it.

Wanted every drop.

His tongue licked into you, fucking inside, groaning loud when he felt your walls clench, sucking your juices from his own tongue like he was drinking you, like you were feeding him.

And fuck—

His hips rutted against the couch, grinding, his cock straining against his jeans, so fucking wet, his pre-cum soaking through, his whole body wound tight like he could come just like this, just from eating you, from tasting you, from hearing the little broken whimpers spilling from your lips.

His fingers dug in deeper, pressing into the softness of your thighs, spreading you wider, pulling you closer, burying his tongue so deep inside you it made your eyes roll back.

And then—

A rough, growled, wrecked—

“Goddamn, baby. Gonna fuckin’ stay down here.”

Joel was gone.

Buried between your thighs, tongue fucking into you like a starving man, like this was what he was made to do.

And fuck, maybe he was.

Because he was too good at it.

You moaned, dragging a hand through his hair, pulling, loving the way he groaned, the way his hips rutted harder against the couch, the way he needed this.

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted, voice thick with pleasure.

Joel growled.

He actually fucking growled, pulling you closer, spreading you wider, licking into you deeper, his tongue flicking, curling, sucking, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding himself back from humping the fucking couch like some desperate, pathetic thing.

And then—

Joel spat on it.

A wet, messy, lewd spit, right over your swollen clit.

And then?

He rubbed his face into it.

Like some depraved old pervert, moaning as he smothered himself with your slick, nuzzling into it, smearing his own spit and your arousal all over his lips, his chin, his nose .. damn nearly up to his forehead. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, breath hot, words slurred against your swollen folds. “Smell so fuckin’ good, baby. Taste even fuckin’ better.”

His tongue swiped over your clit, broad and firm, lapping at it like he was fucking thirsty, groaning when he felt you pulse, when he felt your thighs tremble.

He spat on it again.

And smeared it in.

Dragged his tongue through the mess, licking his own spit off your cunt like he was cleaning you up.

And fuck.

It sent a shock of pleasure straight through your body, a sharp, hot jolt that made your back arch, your mouth dropping open in a broken moan.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair. “I—I’m gonna—”

Joel knew.

Knew you were close, knew he had you teetering, knew you were about to fucking snap.

So he latched onto your clit, sucking, moaning, filthy and loud, his fingers bruising into your thighs, holding you open, keeping you still, forcing you to take it.

And when you came—

Oh, fuck, when you came.

Your body jerked, legs trembling, the orgasm hitting you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs, your vision going white, your whole body clenching around the pleasure, drowning in it.

And Joel?

Joel groaned.

Like he felt it.

Like your orgasm belonged to him.

Like he had just come from tasting you, from making you come, from hearing you cry out his name.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t fucking stop.

Kept licking. Kept sucking. Kept fucking devouring, his tongue flicking over your oversensitive clit, dragging out every last aftershock, keeping you on the edge, keeping you throbbing.

And you—

You were shaking.

Body weak, legs useless, cunt aching for something more.

“Joel,” you gasped, breathless, still trembling. “I—I want your cock.”

And Joel?

He didn’t hear you.

Didn’t process it.

Because he was lost.

Lost in your pussy, lost in the taste, lost in the way you fucking shook for him.

His tongue dragged through the mess, lapping up every drop, swallowing you down like you were something precious, something he couldn’t afford to waste.

So you tried again.

“Joel,” you panted, tugging at his hair, trying to get his attention. “I want your—”

And he still didn’t listen.

Just kept licking. Kept sucking. Kept moaning against your cunt like he was starved.

So you had to rip his face away.

Fisting your hands in his hair, pulling him back, making him look up at you—

And fuck.

His face.

Wet. Slick. Lips swollen, chin shining, pupils blown.

And his mouth—

His mouth was fucking open, his tongue still flicking like he was trying to find you, like he was looking for your pussy, like he was about to dive right back in.

He was panting, breath heavy, wrecked, like he had just fucked you, like he was the one who had just come.

And then—

A low, desperate, ruined—

“Baby, please.”

Like he needed it.

Like he needed to go back.

Like he wasn’t done yet.

The smell of you. The taste of you. The way you squirmed and moaned, your fingers sinking into his hair, giving the softest little tugs that made his cock throb.

You hummed, dragging your nails lightly against his scalp. “You gonna stay down there all night, handsome?”

Joel groaned against your thigh, his fingers tightening where they gripped your hips.

“Would if you’d let me,” he muttered, voice rough and muffled.

You laughed, breathy and teasing. “Well…” You tugged gently at his hair, tilting his head back slightly, forcing him to look up at you. “Maybe I want something else tonight.”

Joel’s head spun.

His stomach clenched, heat coiling low, thick and heavy in his gut.

Because you couldn’t possibly mean—

“Maybe,” you mused, trailing your fingers down his face, smirking. “You should fuck me instead.”

Joel went completely fucking still.

A full-body freeze.

Because, holy shit.

He hadn’t even considered it.

He hadn’t dared to.

Had been so caught up in this—this ritual, this worship, this sick fucking devotion of getting to lose himself between your thighs, mouth greedy and desperate, tongue messy and unrelenting—he hadn’t let himself imagine it going further.

Hadn’t even let himself hope for it.

But now?

Now, you were looking at him with those big, bright eyes, your lips curled in something teasing and wicked, your fingers trailing down his chest, and fuck.

It hit him.

Like a fucking freight train.

He was gonna fuck you.

Joel groaned, his head falling forward against your stomach, breath heavy, body shaking as his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing so tight it bordered on bruising.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, more to himself than you. “Fuck. Baby.”

You grinned, delighted. “Yeah?”

Joel swallowed, lifting his head, his gaze burning as he looked up at you.

“Yeah.”

His voice was rough, wrecked.

“Then get up here, old man,” you purred, tugging at his shoulders. “Come fuck me.”

And, fuck, he was gonna.

Somehow, he managed to kneel between your legs, looming over you, broad and heavy and burning with something filthy and desperate.

Somehow, he managed to unbuckle his belt, yank his zipper down, pull himself free—

You hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected him to be this thick.

Because, fuck me.

Joel Miller was fucking big.

The way his cock twitched the second the cool air hit it, sending a slow, heavy bead of precome dripping down—hot and sticky, landing right on your stomach.

God.

Your breath hitched, your thighs twitching where they were still spread open for him, aching.

And Joel?

He was just watching.

Watching that glistening drop smear against your skin, dragging his fist slow along his length, squeezing at the base, like he was trying to calm himself down.

Not that it was working.

Because he was dripping.

Leaking all over you, precum slick and thick, dribbling down the fat head of his cock, smearing over the tip as he worked himself, his jaw clenched tight, breathing heavy.

His cock was—fuck.

Thick. So fucking thick.

Broad, heavy in his palm, his shaft veined and throbbing, dark with need, his swollen head gleaming wet under the dim light.

A thick trail of silver and black hair led down from his stomach, curling around the base—graying just like the rest of him, salt-and-pepper in a way that made your stomach tighten.

And his balls.

Heavy and full, hanging low, tight and aching with neglect, pulled up just slightly, like his body was already fighting to hold off the inevitable.

And Joel—Joel was losing his fucking mind.

Because fuck.

Your soft, pretty body sprawled out beneath him, tits still sticky from his mouth, your stomach slick with the mess he was dripping all over you, your thighs spread open, that sweet, soaked pussy waiting for him—his cock.

He groaned, low and ruined, watching another thick bead of precum slip from the head, drooling down his shaft, slicking up his fingers.

He couldn’t stop leaking.

Couldn’t stop fucking twitching, pulsing in his own grip, so hard it was almost painful.

His body was betraying him.

Decades of needing, decades of nothing, and now?

Now he was about to lose it over just this.

Just you, looking up at him like that.

Smiling sweetly like you fucking knew.

Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Joel groaned, watching your expression shift, watching your eyes flick down to where he was gripping himself, your lips parting just slightly, breath hitching.

And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

He smirked. Just a little.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Ain’t gettin’ shy on me now, are ya?”

You dragged your gaze back up to his, grinning lazily, voice smooth and teasing. “Nah, just thinking.”

Joel raised a brow, cocking his head. “Yeah? ’Bout what?”

Your lips curled.

“How the hell this thing’s gonna fit inside me.”

Joel growled.

A deep, guttural, feral fucking sound, his grip tightening around his cock, his other hand gripping your thigh, yanking you closer.

You giggled, delighted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down, his body pressing heavy against yours, his cock resting hot and thick against your belly, pulsing.

He was panting.

You could feel it, the heat of his breath against your cheek, the slight tremble in his arms, the pure need radiating off him.

“You’ll take it,” he murmured, voice rough and low, dangerous in a way that made your stomach clench. “You’ll take all of it, baby. Ain’t no way I’m not givin’ you every goddamn inch.”

Fuck.

You whimpered.

And Joel—he fucking felt it.

Felt the way you clenched around nothing, the way your thighs trembled, the way your nails dug into his shoulders.

Felt the way your body was begging for it.

“Joel…” Your voice was thinner now, breathless.

He smirked.

“What, baby?” He pressed against your entrance, just barely, the thick head of his cock stretching you the tiniest bit before he pulled away again, teasing, watching the way your body tensed, the way your breath hitched. “You were talkin’ so much before. What happened?”

You whined.

Louder this time.

And Joel groaned, dropping his forehead against yours, shaking his head.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “You’re so fuckin’ spoiled, baby.”

Then—

Joel pressed forward.

Slow.

Heavy.

Thick.

The swollen head of his cock pushed against your slick entrance, parting your folds, stretching you open inch by agonizing inch. Your body clenched around him instinctively, the burn sweet and deep, making you gasp, your fingers digging harder into his shoulders.

“Fuck—” Joel groaned, long and drawn out, his forehead dropping against yours as he fought to hold himself back, his hands gripping your waist so tightly you knew there’d be bruises come morning. “Goddamn, baby… s’fuckin’ tight—”

You moaned at the stretch, the way your cunt swallowed him up, the way he felt inside you—thick and throbbing, pulsing against your walls, filling you more than you ever thought possible.

And fuck, he wasn’t even all the way in yet.

Joel was shaking.

Every muscle in his body drawn tight, his cock twitching as he struggled to keep himself together, to not just slam in all at once and lose himself in the hot, wet grip of you.

He was too old for this shit.

Too fucking old to be trembling like some desperate goddamn virgin, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his breath coming in ragged pants as he forced himself to go slow.

But Jesus Christ—

You were so small.

So fucking tiny compared to him, your cunt squeezing around his cock like it was trying to keep him out, like you weren’t built to take something this fucking big.

But you would.

You had to.

Joel wasn’t stopping.

“Take it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, voice wrecked, low and strained. “You’ll fuckin’ take all of it, little girl. Gonna stretch you out real nice, make you mine.”

You whimpered, legs trembling as you tried to relax, tried to take him deeper.

“Good job, sweet girl,” Joel groaned, voice rough, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, spreading them wider, pressing his weight against you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

You clenched around him at that, and Joel felt it—felt the way your body squeezed him, the way your breath hitched, the way your back arched just slightly, like your body was instinctively trying to get more.

And fuck, that just about broke him.

His hips twitched, and suddenly, he was sinking deeper, forcing more of his cock inside your tight little cunt, and you gasped, nails raking down his arms as he stretched you even further, the feeling almost too much, too full—

But fuck, it felt so good.

“Joel—”

He groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips, dark eyes snapping up to meet yours, pupils blown wide, his lips parted as he panted against your mouth.

“Yeah, baby?” he rasped, voice dripping with heat.

You couldn’t even form words. Couldn’t think past the way he felt inside you, past the way he was holding you open, filling you up, stretching you out in a way you’d never felt before.

“More,” you whispered, breath hitching, thighs trembling. “Please.”

Joel growled.

Deep and low, something primal and wrecked, and before you could process it—

He thrust forward.

Burying himself to the fucking hilt.

You choked on a gasp, your whole body jerking at the sheer force of it, the sudden fullness, the way he bottomed out inside you, his cock nestled so deep it felt like he was fucking splitting you in half.

Joel snapped.

The last thread of his restraint fucking gone.

“Fuck—” He groaned, hips jerking, grinding himself deeper, reveling in the way you squirmed, the way you moaned, the way your body clenched around him like you never wanted to let go.

“Goddamn, sweetheart—” His voice was all rough edges, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel that? How deep I am?”

You could barely think, barely breathe, barely function beyond the overwhelming stretch of him inside you, the way he filled every inch of you, every nerve ending fucking screaming in pleasure.

Joel didn’t wait for an answer.

Didn’t need one.

Because he knew.

Knew you felt it.

Knew you loved it.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his lips dragging over your throat, his fingers digging into your thighs. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Made for this. Made to take my cock, weren’t you? You were askin' for this, huh? Teasin' me all these weeks?”

You moaned.

Loud and wrecked, your head tilting back, exposing more of your throat, and Joel fucking ate it up.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight,” he rasped, voice strained, his hips pulling back just slightly before pressing forward again, grinding against that soft, spongy spot inside you. “Like this little pussy don’t wanna let me go.”

You whimpered.

Because it didn’t.

Didn’t want him to go.

Didn’t want anything except more—more of him, more of this, more of the way he was stretching you open, fucking ruining you for anyone else.

And Joel knew it.

Could feel it.

Could see it in the way your body arched, in the way your nails dug into his skin, in the way you moaned his name like a prayer.

And fuck—

That did something to him.

Something dark.

Something needy.

Something possessive.

His hips snapped forward, harder this time, and you cried out, hands flying up to grip his shoulders, and fuck, he loved that sound.

“Oh, god—i - you feel so good,” you cry, eyes fluttering shut, pleasure rolling over you in hot, heavy waves.

“Yeah, baby?” he rasped, voice full of filthy heat. “That what you want? Want me to fuck this sweet little pussy with my cock? Want me to ruin you?”

You gasped, back arching, nails dragging down his back.

“Yes—”

And that was all he needed.

All he needed to let go, to give in, to let the raw, aching need consume him.

Joel’s grip on your hips tightened, and then—Joel growled.

A deep, wrecked, guttural thing that ripped through his chest, and suddenly—he was moving.

Thrusting.

Fucking you.

“Oh—oh god—” Your back arched, breath hitching, body jolting with each sharp thrust, each desperate snap of his hips.

Joel fucking grinned.

“That what it takes, huh?” he rasped, voice dripping with filthy satisfaction. “A big cock to shut you up, baby? Hm?”

You moaned, head lolling back against the cushions, unable to form words, pleasure slamming into you so hard your mind went blank.

And Joel? He ate it up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he gritted out, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you down onto him, forcing you to take every inch. “Too busy takin’ my cock to be a smug little brat now, huh?”

You whimpered.

And Joel groaned, eyes rolling back slightly as his pace faltered, his cock twitching inside you.

Fuck—he wasn’t gonna last.

Not with this.

Not with the way you were tightening around him, squeezing him like you wanted him to cum, like you wanted him to break apart inside you, wanted to milk every drop from his aching cock.

His breath turned ragged, hips stuttering, muscles tensing, and—

“Oh, baby—shit, I—I won’t—”

His voice broke.

He gritted his teeth, fighting it, holding on as long as he could, but you were so fucking tight, so fucking wet, so fucking perfect—

And then—

You clenched around him again, dragging him deeper, pressing your lips to his ear, voice all soft and sweet—

“Cum for me, Joel.”

And that was it.

Joel snapped.

His body locked up, cock throbbing as a strangled groan tore from his throat, his hips pressing flush against you as he spilled deep inside you, pumping you full, burying himself as deep as he could while pleasure crashed over him in heavy, burning waves.

His breath stuttered, his whole body trembling, nails digging into your skin.

Your body was still trembling, sweat slicking your skin, the heat between your legs thick and wet with the mess Joel had already left inside you. Your mind was still spinning, your breath uneven, but Joel wasn’t done.

Not even close.

He held you close, his big body still caging you in, his thick arms wrapped around you like he needed to keep you there, to pin you down, to claim you.

His lips moved against your damp skin, pressing soft, wet kisses against your shoulder, up your throat, nuzzling against the sensitive skin behind your ear as he let out a deep, satisfied groan.

But then—

Another pulse.

Another deep, warm spurt of cum filling you up, coating your walls even though you swore he had already given you everything he had.

Your breath hitched, your body twitching slightly as you felt it—felt him still throbbing, still leaking, still making sure every single drop stayed buried inside you.

“Joel,” you gasped, tilting your head back against the couch, your fingers curling weakly into his sweaty back. “You’re still cumming?”

Joel grunted against your neck, his hips giving a slow, almost involuntary push forward, like he was trying to press himself even deeper, to make sure it stuck. His lips dragged up to your jaw, warm and slightly open, his breath ragged, his voice wrecked when he finally muttered,

“Still got more for you, baby.”

Fuck.

Your stomach tightened, another wave of heat rolling through you at the sheer desperation in his tone, the filth in his words. You felt his mouth on you again, felt the rough scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, and then—

Joel groaned, his lips finally finding yours, capturing them in a slow, wet kiss. The second you moaned into it—

Another slow pulse inside you.

Another spurt.

Hot, deep, filling you up all over again.

Joel shuddered against you, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, swallowing your soft whimpers as he rocked into you, his cock still buried deep, still throbbing, still giving you everything.

You broke the kiss first, tilting your head back against the couch, a dazed, smug little smile curling on your lips. “You really are an old pervert,” you murmured, voice teasing, breathless.

Joel’s hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face back toward his. His dark eyes were hooded, heavy with lust, filled with something possessive and raw as his fingers flexed slightly, keeping you in place.

“And you,” he rasped, his voice low, dangerous, “are a fuckin’ menace.”

His hips rocked again, and you let out a choked little gasp as you felt just how deep he was still buried inside you, still stretching you, still keeping you full. He groaned at the sound, dipping his head to bite softly at your bottom lip before licking over it, tasting you, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, lazy tease.

You melted into it, humming softly as you curled your fingers into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.

Joel growled.

His breath was heavy against your lips, warm and ragged, his body shuddering slightly as the last waves of pleasure pulsed through him. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw, then another just beneath your ear, his lips soft and warm and so different from the way he’d just fucked you—filthy and desperate and rough.

Now, he was gentle.

Now, he was melting against you.

His weight pressing you down, his hands smoothing over your hips, his fingers curling possessively around the softness of your thighs. Keeping you close. Keeping you his.

You sighed, shifting just slightly, feeling the thick heat of him settle inside you, the stretch easing, leaving behind a deep, satisfied ache. You were so full.

So stuffed with him.

And god, you could feel it—the way he was still throbbing deep inside, the way the sticky warmth of his spend was already beginning to leak out, thick and hot, slicking your thighs where you were still stretched wide around him.

You smirked.

“Hm,” you mused, tilting your head back against the couch, letting your fingers drag lazily down his back. “I really got forty-year-old cum inside me right now, huh?”

Joel groaned, shifting slightly, dragging his lips down the curve of your throat, nipping softly. “Baby, don’t—”

“What?” You grinned, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rolled your hips slightly, making him hiss. “Just stating facts.”

Joel exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing where they gripped your waist, holding you still. “Not forty,” he muttered, his voice a low, grumbled thing against your skin.

You hummed, tilting your head slightly. “Oh? My bad. Forty-something-year-old cum.”

Joel groaned again, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his damp hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “And yet,” you purred, voice sweet and teasing, “you still came so deep inside me.”

His hips flexed, pushing deeper, and you gasped, arching slightly beneath him. Joel lifted his head then, dark eyes meeting yours, something warm and hungry and satisfied settling there.

“Damn right, I did.”

You shivered.

His lips curled slightly, his hand dragging down to rest against your lower belly, pressing there—right over the place where you were still stuffed full of him.

“Know how long I been thinkin’ about that?” he murmured, fingers flexing slightly. “Fillin’ you up like this?”

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering as he rolled his hips again, slow, lazy, letting you feel every inch of him inside you. “Joel…”

His lips found yours again, slow and deep and lingering, his tongue sliding against yours in a soft, lazy tease. You melted into it, letting him kiss you slow, letting him take his time, letting him savor the taste of you, the feel of you, the warmth of you still wrapped around him.

When he finally pulled back, he looked at you for a long moment, his hand smoothing up your side, curling around your ribs, tracing absentminded circles into your skin.

“You okay, sweet girl?” he murmured, voice softer now, rough around the edges but warm.

You exhaled, stretching slightly, feeling the way his body fit against yours, warm and solid and safe. You felt good.

Better than good.

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. “More than okay.”

Joel grunted, pressing one last kiss to your jaw before finally shifting, pulling out slowly, carefully, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he felt just how soaked you were.

He sat back, dark eyes dragging over the sight of you—legs spread, pussy messy and glistening, his cum already beginning to leak out onto the couch. His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out and push it back inside.

Your smirk deepened. “Like what you see?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.”

You stretched your arms over your head, arching slightly, your grin widening. “Well,” you mused, voice lazy and satisfied, “if you die, at least you’ll die a very happy pervert.”

Joel rolled his eyes, reaching for you, tugging you onto his lap effortlessly, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close.

You sighed, melting into him, pressing your forehead against his, your fingers dragging up the back of his neck.

Joel exhaled, his breath warm against your lips, his fingers flexing slightly where they gripped your hips.

Then, voice low, murmured against your mouth—

“Yeah, baby. Happiest I’ve ever been.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

...Hey y'all im back. Opinions and comments are greatly appreciated please PLEASE (please)

feels so right | dbf!joel miller x reader

summary: Your college boyfriend's a dick, and it doesn't help that he dragged you along with him to a bar just to treat you like shit. You plan on catching a ride home after an incident between you two, but turns out that your dad's best friend's there too, and he saw everything. He ends up offering you a ride instead, but there's no promises that you make it back home for the night.

word count: 9.9k (yeah i went overboard oops..)

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), this might be the filthiest smut i've ever written, porn w/ plot, reader has a horrible/mean bf, prolly unrealistic car sex but idc, joel can carry reader, thigh riding, praise/degrading, kinda mean joel, oral (m receiving), deepthroating/facefucking, use of pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby, girl, etc), piv, unprotected rough sex, bit of a size kink, joel's hugeee, spanking, bit of choking, creampie/coming inside, literally all that good filthy shit lolll, lil cheesy ass ending

btw this can be for both game/hbo!joel cus i had them both in mind while writing <3

ao3 link | masterlist

Music fills your ears as you take a sip of your drink, sitting on an uncomfortable stool by the bar you were at.

Your boyfriend dragged you here with him, but not out of the kindness of his heart, no. You had made plans with him to spend some time together; to stay in and watch a movie, in hopes that it'd somehow heal your declining relationship, and he thankfully agreed.

That was weeks ago now, and here you were; stuck at a bar with the rest of his friends all because he forgot about his plans with you and insisted that he'd spend the night with the ones he sees more often than you.

It was either you or them, and in his eyes, it was always them.

"Fuck, babe! If you wanna be with me so fucking bad, just come with me— since you won't get off my fucking ass if you don't. Jesus Christ, I mean, you'd think I'd be able to spend one fucking night with my friends.. So fucking clingy."

His words rung in your ears as your eyes got lost in the remaining alcohol in the glass in your hand, slowly swirling it around with dread filling your face and entire being. You knew your boyfriend wasn't the best guy in the world, but you loved him at one point, and your heart clung onto the hope that he would start to actually love you back.

You should've known that your hopes would never be enough.

Snapping yourself out of it, you lift your head up to turn and look at him, his fourth glass of whiskey nearly empty, not giving a single fuck about you. No, his focus was always on his friends.. always on the shit that he prioritized over you.

You could only take so much.

Lifting yourself up from the stool, your feet reach the ground as you make your way over to him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Nothing. Again, you tap him even harder, and he finally notices you for the first time in the 30 minutes you've been there.

"What the fuck? What do you want now?" He asks you, scoffing as he whips his head to turn to you.

You gasp at him, mouth open as you stare at him in disbelief. "What the fuck do I want? I want you to fucking pay attention to me, you asshole! Have you even thought about me the entire time we've been here at all?!" You exclaim harshly, your heart racing as your anger rises.

He just shakes his head at you, the annoyance in his face incredibly evident as his friends laugh faintly at the scene in front of them. He doesn't even attempt to apologize to you, the tone in his voice cruel as he scolds you, "I never even fucking wanted you here in the first place, and you didn't get the damn hint. Not my fucking fault, babe."

He turns his body to look back at his friends, completely avoiding you and the situation, and clearly not giving a shit to fix it. Your anger gets the best of you, reaching for his shoulder to harshly pull it back so he could just look at you, but he grabs your wrist, squeezing it tightly as he drags your body to him.

Your face is just inches away from his now, gasps coming out of your mouth as his grip tightens. "Don't you ever fucking touch me like that again.. Get the fuck out of here, bitch." He berates you, his breath oozing of booze as he shoves your wrist to push you away from him.

Your eyes fill with tears as you back away from him, your hand reaching to your wrist to soothe it, rubbing it softly. You glance around the room, embarrassed at what had just occurred. Eyes from all around the bar are on the two of you now, but there's a pair that immediately catch your eye.

Joel.

Your dad's best friend, and the man who practically watched you grow up right in front of his eyes.

His gaze is hard on you, face filled with growing anger as he watches what your dickhead of a boyfriend just did to you. Your face grows cold as you stare at him, eyes flickering from his face to the floor as you grip your bag, not wanting to have him confront you. You were embarrassed enough.

You glance back at your boyfriend one last time, a slight frown fixed on your lips as you rush out the door, gasping for air while your teary eyes pace around your surroundings. Frantically pulling your phone out of your bag, you open the Uber app, wanting to get a ride home and out of here as soon as you could.

"Honey? You alright?"

Your body jumps slightly as you turn your head to stare at the source of the voice, eyes fixed to recognize Joel, his face filled with concern and his gaze now soft on you. You swallow as you breathe out, wiping the tears that were just about to fall from your eyes.

Gaining the courage to speak, you choke out faintly, not wanting to reveal your emotions to him. "J-Joel, I— Yeah, I'm okay.. it's okay. Sorry you had to see that, I.. didn't know you came here.."

You turn your head to stare back down at your phone, weak fingers trying their best to tap on the buttons to get you a driver here as soon as possible.

Joel's hand just reaches over the ones gripping onto your phone, slowly pushing them down and away from your focus to make you look up at him. His eyes are gentle and warm, boring into yours.

"Don't do that, sweetheart.. I've known y'long enough to know that it isn't," His soft words soothe you, looking down at your somber face, "C'mon.. Why don't y'let me take you home? Let's get you outta here.." He offers, moving his hand behind the small of your back to guide you wherever his truck was parked.

You sniffle and nod as you give into his generosity, knowing that you just wanted and needed to be cared for right now, whether or not it was just by Joel's benevolence.

His stare is fixed on you as the two of you make your way to his truck, feeling a sense of responsibility and urge to protect you. You were the loveliest girl he's ever known in his entire life, and it appalled him at how you could be with an asshole like that.

Walking up to the passenger side with you right behind him, he opens the door up for you, gesturing you to get in. "C'mon, honey.. There y'go.." He whispers out, gently shutting it behind you once you're securely inside.

Joel gets in the driver's seat now, putting his seatbelt on after you as he turns the engine on, putting the car in reverse to get out of there, knowing that you probably wanted to leave the area as fast as possible.

Silence fills the space between you as the only sound that can be heard are the tires on the road, making you gulp softly. You then glance at him, clearing your throat and licking your drying lips, "I.. I promise, he's not always like that, Joel.. He's a nice man.. I—"

Your voice fails you as you finish, the uncertainty in your tone not even convincing yourself. You're lying straight through your teeth, and Joel knows it too.

He lets out a heavy scoff, shaking his head as his eyes focus on the road in front of him. Glancing at you, he chuckles, "Right.. A 'nice man', huh?" He starts, making you turn away from him to look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers, "A 'nice man' wouldn't do that to you, honey.. Seems to me you've never felt how a real man should treat ya."

Your head turns to look at him quickly, scoffing back at him as you look at him, shocked. You don't even know why you're bothering to defend your shitty boyfriend, but for some reason, you wanted to prove to Joel that you were mature enough to make the right decisions.. to be with the right man.

"You don't even know him, Joel.. I.. I was being clingy, alright? He wanted to hang out with his friends instead of me tonight and I insisted I went too! You.. you'd act like that too if you were ever with me.." You tell him, your voice growing small towards the last part of your little speech, self-deprecation filling your mind along with your boyfriend's words.

It doesn't seem to make Joel any happier, making him suddenly pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park. He huffs, removing his seatbelt as you follow his movements. Pausing to take a moment to try and compose himself, he finally looks at you, mouth open in disbelief. "You think I'd act like that if I were in his position? Think I'd fuckin' push you away like that? No, honey, god, no— you've got it all wrong."

You swallow as you stare at him, eyes confused and trying to understand what he was implying. He turns away from you for a moment, licking his lips as he breathes in sharply. "No fuckin' man right in the head would ever push you away like that, sweetheart.. No, he's a fuckin' boy who won't even cherish such a.. pretty girl like you."

Joel shakes his head, taking that pause between his words to look at you up and down, exhaling hard as he puts his fist to his face, his arm resting on the side of his window. He just stares back out through the windshield, your body stuck in place, breath hitching as you process it all.

"The hell would your dad think.. f'he ever saw that, huh? Boy's damn lucky I didn't do shit to him.. Lucky I didn't fuck m'up." He exclaims, scoffing softly as he looks at you for a moment.

Your chest rises as you breathe in softly, mind racing to figure out what to say. Your stomach is filled with faint butterflies from Joel's words, yet you knew that he'd never possibly think of you that way. He was just trying to comfort you.. right?

Your eyes are set on your lap, pausing before stuttering out, "Look, Joel.. I get it, you've known me my whole life, but I know what I'm doing. I'm not some dumb little girl anymore.." You finish, lifting your head to look at him, hoping that he'd finally believe you.

Joel's always treated you the same way he has when you were a kid, and it always frustrated the hell out of you. It's no doubt that Joel was an attractive man; you realized that when you were in high school, especially when your friends would come to your house to gawk at him at parties and family gatherings. You weren't blind, but you knew your attraction for him would get you nowhere.. not when he saw you the same way all these years.

At least, to you.

His head finally turns to you, eyes set on yours now, "You're a big girl now, huh.. s'that right? Y'gonna tell me that when you're with an asshole like that?" He chuckles out, cocking his head as he shakes it, "Thought you were better than that, baby.. That you'd actually give yourself to someone who deserves you.."

"Guess you're still that dumb little girl."

His words sting, making your eyes harden with your lips pressed tightly together. You scoff at him, tone harsh and direct, "The fuck do you want from me, Joel? What, y'want me to give myself to a real man like you?" spewing out the words without even giving it a second thought.

He immediately spits out what he's been thinking the entire time, nodding his head almost condescendingly as he inches his face closer to yours, "Yeah, that's what I fuckin' want. Maybe it'll knock some damn sense into that dumb head of yours, huh?”

You grit your teeth, heart thumping out of your chest as you rasp out, "You wouldn't even have the fucking guts, old man," but you knew damn well that you craved it. Craved him and the endless possibilities of what he could do to you. Breathing heavily, you can't deny the slick growing against your folds and through your panties.

Joel just grins at you, his gaze never leaving yours, "S'that right, honey? M' just some.. old man to you?" He snickers, his tongue poking out of his cheek for a moment, "Y'think I never noticed you all these years? Never heard you and your lil' friends talkin' about me?"

You gulp as your lick your drying lips, face softening while your heart races. Shaking your head to deny his accusations, your body freezes at the realization that he knows.

"Yeah.. you're not so slick, baby. Could see you watchin' me all these damn years.. Tellin' everyone how much you want me.. Y'can deny it all you want, sweetheart, but I see right through you. Right through this act."

He smirks as your eyes dart to the floor to avoid his stare, head tilting down as you fidget with your hands. Your body grows cold as you shake your head softly, denying the fact of the matter.

Joel's hand reaches up towards your face, his thumb and index finger lifting your head to look up at him, gripping onto your chin. "Ain't that right?" He chuckles out, making you turn your head to look away from him again nervously, but he doesn't let that slide.

He tuts his tongue, shaking his head as his grasp on your chin tightens just enough to have a firm grip on you, forcing you to look right at him. "No, no, don't do that, honey.. Look at me." He demands, your eyes finally staring into his own. You clear your throat, body shaking slightly as your adamant arousal for him increases.

You begin to stutter out, gulping, "J-Joel..", but he just cuts you off, implicit and direct with his intentions.

"Y’gonna let me fuck some sense into you, baby? That what you want? You’re about a second away from begging me for it, I fuckin’ see it. Can practically smell it off you, too." Joel spits out, his tone cocky and hitting directly to your core as he glances down at your thighs clenching together, “N’ look at you here..”

He chuckles out, removing his fingers from your chin to glide them down to your trembling thighs, his fingers almost pressing into the crevice that your thighs were pressed so tightly together to create. He wets his lips as his dark gaze glances back up to your face, whispering out desperately, "Tell me you want this, honey.. Tell me n' I'll make you forget all about your lil' boyfriend."

You breathe out through your mouth heavily, lips falling a bit open as your mind races. You've thought about this moment for so long now, and you could finally have it..

Fuck it.

Wetting your lips, you quickly put them on Joel's, desperation seething out of you as your eyes shut tightly. You moan into the kiss, Joel groaning into it too as he reaches his hands for your waist, gripping onto it tightly. He almost lifts you up, gesturing for you to get on top of his lap, needing to be close to you. You just follow his request, lifting yourself up from the passenger seat to fall into his lap and straddle his waist, immediately whimpering at the feeling of his bulging crotch pressing into your panties.

You had hoped that wearing a dress tonight would be a good choice, and you were right.

Breaking away from the kiss, the two of you gasp for air, breathing in heavily as you stare at Joel with delirious eyes, nearly high off the taste of him. He just smirks at you, reaching for your cheek to hold onto it, caressing it softly. "Bout' fuckin' time, baby.. Thought you'd never get the hint." He pants out, bringing your face close to press a dirty kiss on your lips, his tongue pushing against yours.

Your impatience gets the best of you, gripping his broad shoulders with your hands as you gain enough leverage to grind your core against his crotch, moaning loudly at the friction. You can already feel how huge he is, your cunt throbbing at the thought of it stretching you out.

His eager hands move down to grip your ass, moving you exactly how he wants, pressing you down onto him even harder. His lips break away from yours, groaning out, "Fuck, baby.. Fuckin' sexy, look at you.." He says, his gaze on your desperate face and glancing down at your hips and crotch grinding against him, "Shit.. That's it.. Pretty girl like you knows how to move."

You whimper at his words, growing wetter at the rough control he has on your body, and you love it. You can't help but let out little gasps, the desire you have for him increasing every time your bodies press together, making you crave his cock even more with each second that passes.

"F-Fuck.. need you, Joel, please.." You whine out, making his eyes flash up at yours as he chuckles, gripping onto your ass even tighter. He just shakes his head, saying, "No, baby.. Y'gonna take what you need from me right here. Wanna s'ya drench my thigh.."

"You do that f'me.. come all pretty & put on a lil' show for me? Maybe I'll give ya what y'want.." Joel mutters out to you, his lips just inches away from yours as he stares into your eyes, filled with lust and an intense ache for you. He wants to savor your body as long as he possibly can.

You nod your head quickly, biting your lower lip gently as you move your legs wrapped around him to sit in between one of his large thighs, moaning out once the rough fabric of his jeans hits your throbbing cunt.

You're soaked through your panties at this point, and you don't waste a second chasing your release. Your hips slowly start to move back and forth, grinding against his thigh as you whine. Licking your lips, you pant out, stuttering out his name repeatedly as your body does all the work for you. You're not even thinking at this point; your mind's completely gone blank and focused on one thing.

"That's it, honey.. Keep goin'.. Pretty lil' thing's so needy." Joel lets out, a low groan coming out as he watches your desperate face, staring right back at him with heavy eyes. It makes his cock grow even harder, knowing that he's finally got you like this.

His hands move to grip your hips, guiding them faster as they move to your ass, squeezing it harshly as a low chuckle escapes his throat. You gasp out at the touch, encouraging you to grind down on him even faster, stimulating your swollen clit as you cry out at the feeling.

Heat flows down to your cunt and lower stomach as your climax slowly begins to build up inside of you, and it's almost like Joel can feel it. Feeling how close you are, with your soaked pussy and slick drenching his jeans and thigh.

Just like he wanted.

One of his hands lifts up to smack your ass, an unrelenting force making you whine out at the sudden strike. It sends butterflies to your stomach and a sharp jolt to your core, forcing a moan out of you and a whine of his name on your tongue.

"Sorry, baby.. Y'got such a nice ass, been waitin' so long to do that.." Joel admits, letting out a faint laugh at your response to him. He cocks his head to the side and looks up at you, mouth slightly gaped open as his tongue plays with his cheek, "Ever knew how fuckin' hard you made me? Skimpin' around with your lil' dresses and shorts, passin' me like you knew what you were doin'. Y'never noticed how I'd.. turn my fuckin' head everytime you walked past me, baby.. Glancin' back at it so I could fuck my fist to the thought of you every night.."

"Fuck, fantasized about this fuckin' moment for so long now.."

Another blow of his large hand to your ass hits you unexpectedly, making you shake above him, your hips never slowing. You bite your lip as you look down at him, hands gripping his body to keep your strength. Butterflies fill your stomach as you hear his confession, making you groan.

Your breaths speed up as your climax increases, jaw falling open as you reply to him, "Did.. Did that on purpose, Joel.. Wanted you to look at me, to want me.. Didn't think it worked, fuck— touched myself all the time cus' of you.."

Your confession goes straight to Joel's cock, making him groan out at your dirty words, his fingers ingraining themselves into your ass as he moves your hips how he wants, wanting to push you to the edge already.

"Oh, it worked, honey.. Fuckin' gorgeous girl like you, what'd make y'think it didn't? I'd be a damn fool.." He grunts out, tone low right in your ear as you whimper, your clit growing incredibly sensitive as you grow even closer. "Y'gonna come for me, baby? Feel how fuckin' soaked you are f'me.. You're shaking.. Know y'can do it, come for me, sweet girl.. S'what you wanted this whole time, huh?" Joel encourages you, his hands moving from on top of your dress to underneath it, squeezing your bare ass with just your tiny panties barely covering yourself.

The direct contact of his rough hands on your flesh has you gasping out, the sudden coolness of your skin from his hot hands creating the perfect mix. You just nod your head eagerly as you stare into Joel's eyes, biting your bottom lip the more your aching cunt grinds on him. You stammer out, eyes hazy, "Mhm, f-fuck, Joel.. M'gonna come, p-please.."

Joel just smirks as he stares at your worn out face, nodding his head to encourage you. Sliding his hands down closer to your clothed pussy, his fingertips glide across your lips, your slick coating through your panties and onto his fingers. The feeling of it makes you hiss out as Joel whispers out to you, "Gonna give you what you need, baby.. C'mon now, let me see you.. Come for me now, be a good girl.."

Those words were the final push that you needed, making your cunt clench tightly around nothing, wishing that it was Joel's cock instead. You shut your eyes as you cry out, hands gripping onto Joel's body even tighter as he coos, whispering filthy, encouraging words into your ear while his hands help you chase your release. His hands on your ass begin to slow down, finally letting the weight of your hips rest on his thigh as your climax ends, the fast thumping in your chest slowing.

Breathing heavily, you let out small pants, chest rising up and down as you open your eyes to look at Joel. You give him a tired smile, giggling softly at the state you were in, and Joel grins back up at you, moving his hands up to hold onto your face. He presses a firm kiss on your lips, relishing the taste of you on his tongue. Breaking away from your lips, his thumbs caress your cheeks, looking into your eyes, "Did so good, honey.. Y'wanna return the favor? Prove to me that you deserve more?"

Your eyes widen at his words, nodding your head desperately as you lick your lips, hoping that he's implying what you thought he was. To be sure, you eagerly ask him, "O-Of course, Joel.. What d'you want me to do? Anything you want.."

Joel's lips curl up, grinning at the tone in your voice as he drags one of his hands down to yours to grab it. Guiding your hand, your palm reaches to his hard cock all pent up against his tight jeans, making you gasp out as a deep groan escapes his throat.

"Feel that, baby? Need your lips wrapped around me.. Y'gonna do that for me?" Joel mutters out to you, his gaze dark and set on you completely. Your breath hitches in your throat at his request, and the thought of the mere act makes your mouth water, making you nod your head quickly. "Yeah, fuck, I wanna do that for you.. Been wanting it for so long, Joel.." You admit to him, this time using your hand to squeeze his bulge, feeling how much he really needed you.

He lets out a faint moan, nodding his head back at you as he smirks at your hand squeezing him so good. He questions you, "Wanted what for so long, huh? Wanna hear it, honey."

Your cheeks grow flushed at his words, gulping slightly and hesitating to respond as you look away from him, which just makes him urge you on even more. "C'mon now, you already came all over my fuckin' thigh, I know y'not gettin' all shy on me now, sweetheart.." He teases you, chuckling as he presses his hand to your face, gently squeezing it, but you know his intentions are clear. He has so much power over you; more than you even thought.

His big hands grip onto your face, forcing you to turn to look at him. It's filthy, and you can't help but love it. He nods at you, a final push, and you finally stammer out at him, throat dry, "Wanted your.. cock, Joel.. W-Wanted to suck your cock for so long— fuck, please, Joel.."

He just lets out a faint laugh and nods his head, releasing your face from his hands and patting your cheek as if he was proud of you. "That's it, honey, wasn't so hard now, was it?" He teases you, licking his lips as his eyes flicker to your own, imagining them around him already. "Let's go to the back, baby.. S'gonna be more comfortable that way."

You nod at him as his strong hold is back on you, lifting your hips gently to guide you towards the back. Once the two of you are back there, Joel's legs are laid out on the entirety of the backseat, his back leaning against the door while you're set in between him; the perfect position and view for him to watch you put on a show.

Joel seems to be impatient waiting for you to make your move, as he cocks his head to the side and stares at you. He questions, "What y'waiting for, baby? You're a big girl, aren't you? Don't need me to tell you what to do now, do I?"

You lick your lips nervously as you stare at him, giving him a small, anxious smile. It's not because you've never sucked cock before, but this was Joel, and you wanted it to be good for him. More than you've ever been with anyone else before, and especially your 'boyfriend'.

"N-No, Joel, I got it.." You respond to him, leaning your body closer as your hands reach for the zipper of his jeans. Unbuttoning them, you pull them down a bit with the help of Joel's hips lifting, and your eyes immediately latch onto his huge cock, bulging against his boxers.

You sigh out as your hands glide from his large thighs to his underwear, reaching underneath the hem of the fabric to grasp onto his cock, pulling it out. The mere sight of it makes your jaw fall open slightly, gasping and mouth watering at how thick he was. Fuck, he's the biggest you've ever seen. It made you a bit nervous, but so fucking aroused, as you feel the slick growing between your folds because of it.

Your reaction makes Joel chuckle, leaning his head a bit forward to get a better look at the expression on your face. He lifts his hand to press his fingers against your cheek, holding onto your jaw and caressing your cheek with his thumb. It makes you look back up at him as he questions you, "Too big for you, honey? You ever even sucked cock before?"

You gulp as you purse your lips, nodding your head slightly, "I.. Yeah, I have, but fuck— never this big, Joel.." You respond to him truthfully, your stomach filling up with butterflies of a mixture of nerves and arousal.

He grins at you, laughing a bit cockily, "Don't worry, baby.. Gonna take me real good, right? Make me proud?" He challenges you, the fingers placed on your cheek now sliding down towards your lips, gently pressing the tips of them right at the entrance of your mouth. "Let's start off with these, huh? Wanna see if y'can take em' like you're gonna take me.."

You whimper at his words that hit you right to your core, making you clench around nothing. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you already. You just nod your head slowly, eyes never leaving his as you gently open your mouth for him. Joel takes this as an invitation to continue, slowly moving his index and middle fingers in your mouth.

"Suck on em', baby.. Lemme see what y'can do.." Joel tells you, his head lifting up a bit as his dark gaze looks down at your lips. You just obey him, closing your lips around his fat fingers as he inches them further and further in your mouth towards your throat. Your tongue falls flat underneath his fingers, sucking on them gently as you lift your hands to hold onto his wrist.

Joel starts to grin at you, humming out in satisfaction as he encourages you, "There we go, pretty fuckin' lips.. Show me how you'd suck my cock, c'mon now.."

You moan around his fingers, both of your hands gripping onto his wrist as you use it to pull them out of your mouth, guiding them back in deep as if they really were his cock. You shut your eyes at the feeling of it, reaching further down your throat as you moan again. The taste of him is intoxicating.

Your eyes open back up to stare at him intently, and Joel gives you a light smile, making you feel that sense of pride that you've always craved from him. "Good fuckin' girl.. Shit, lookin' so good like this, baby.." He mutters out lowly, a faint groan coming out.

Before you can continue, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, immediately making you feel empty. You whine out softly at your disappointment which makes him chuckle, reassuring you, "C'mon, honey— Think y'ready now. Make it good for me, yeah?"

You nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than to please him as much as you could. You lean a bit back, giving yourself a bit more room to get in the right position as your hands reach for his cock again. Wrapping a hand around him, you notice that he isn't even fully hard yet, and he's already so fucking big. It doesn't ease your nerves in the slightest, but the ache you feel for him in your cunt distracts you from it completely.

Lowering your head and body, your lips inch closer and closer to the fat head of his cock while your hand slowly strokes him up and down, trying to get him fully hard for your mouth to take him. You look up at him as your lips wrap around the tip of it, sucking onto it gently as you feel him finally harden in your mouth.

Your tongue does its work, circling around him and licking the tip of it while you suck, your eyes never leaving his as his own flicker all over your face; your eyes, your lips. Joel lets out a low groan, reaching over to your head to hold onto it to have some leverage to encourage you.

You slowly lower your head now, taking his cock deeper into your mouth as you moan around it, sending vibrations through Joel's entire body as he hisses at the feeling. "Fuck, that's it.. Deeper, baby, lemme see how much y'can take.." Joel's words fill your ears as you continue, your mouth barely able to take him all the way to the base.

His cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag at the sudden intrusion. Your eyes water as you blink, still staring back up at him to see that reaction on his face. You notice how it twists in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment, and you lift your head back up to gasp for air, immediately lowering your lips back onto him so you don't waste any second that passes.

The noises that Joel makes are filthy, filling your ears and making them burn as your mouth never falters, jaw stretched out as wide as possible for you to take all of him. Joel's grunts become louder, and you take that as sign that you're doing things right, which makes your body fill with pride.

Closing your eyes, you relish the feeling of his heavy cock on your tongue, the fat tip of it letting out small spurts of pre-cum down your throat. The taste of him only makes you push your head down even further, attempting to take him all the way to the base, but he hits the back of your throat, making you gag out at the unexpected impact.

Before you can lift your head up, Joel's grip on your head tightens as he holds you there, his throat letting out low pants as he stares right at your lips connecting to the base of his cock. Groaning out, he laughs faintly, saying, "Take it, honey, doin' so good for me, f-fuck.."

Barely processing it all, he uses his other hand to slap your face almost condescendingly, and it just makes you moan around him, your throat clenching and eyes opening up to look at him. You didn't even know you liked that, but Joel's power over you has you nearly seeing stars.

Joel lets out a chuckle, all mean and teasingly, "Fuck, yeah.. Dirty girl, you like that shit?" He asks you, and you moan around his cock again, nose breathing in heavily for air as your eyes droop down a bit, nearly high off the feeling of him using your throat. Laughing out, a smirk appears on his face as his hand's grip on you pulls you back up for a moment so you can breathe properly.

Without him even having to encourage you, your mouth is back on him once you catch your breath, desperate to please him and taste his cock again. It makes Joel grunt out, snickering out at you, "Fuck, you're worse than I thought, baby.. You act so innocent, but you're takin' cock like s'all you're meant for.."

You hum against him, eyes looking back up as you take him deeper with your tongue flattening underneath his shaft, and it drives Joel crazy. He just hisses out, hand on your head once again, "Shit.. I'm right, ain't I? Pretty throat’s been craving this, huh? Lil’ boyfriend couldn’t satisfy you.. Thas’ okay, m’ right here now, honey..”

His words send a throbbing pang to your cunt, growing wetter at the thought of him and knowing that he's satisfying your needs more than your boyfriend ever could. It makes you realize that Joel was right; that he was the real man that you needed.

Joel's hands start to guide your lips now, moving your head up and down on him as he watches his cock disappear back down your throat over and over again. Your jaw falls slack as you let him use you just how he wants, eyes watering with tears threatening to fall as his thick cock continues to stretch your lips and throat so good.

The look on your face is nearly pornographic, your lips shaped tightly right around the girth of his cock as if it was a hole meant for him to fuck. The sight of you makes Joel's cock twitch, moaning lowly as he pants out, “What would y’family think if they saw you like this, honey? Lookin’ like a fuckin’ whore with my cock down your throat, like the fuckin’ slut you are. That’s just what you are, right, baby? A lil’ whore for me, s’that it? Gonna let me keep you.. fuck you when I want? Know that’s what you want..”

You just nod your head eagerly at him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sound of his nasty words, and it feels so fucked up knowing that it's turning you on so much. You've always imagined what it'd be like for Joel to just use you how he wants, imagining how it'd be like, and now it's finally happening.

Joel chuckles out at your response to him, and he grunts out as his climax builds up, unexpectedly pulling your mouth off of him as you gasp out for air. Your face looks confused and disheveled, but Joel assures you, "Don't wanna come just yet, baby, we got time for that later. Wanna be in you now."

Before you can respond to him, Joel leans in towards you, his hands reaching out for your body to move you how he wants. Grasping onto your sides, he lifts you slightly to turn you around, moving you to get on your knees to crawl and face away from him. Your body just follows his hands until he has you where he wants, getting onto your hands and knees, bent over for him to stare out the window.

Your breathing grows heavier, gulping softly as you turn your head to look back at him. Joel doesn't waste a second to immediately cherish the view in front of him, his hands now roaming from your calves right up to your thighs, savoring your skin on his fingertips that are now inching towards your aching core.

Your dress is the perfect length for him to see you completely; not too long and not too short, but it's too much coverage for Joel's liking anyways.

His hands move up towards your ass, instinctively pushing the fabric covering you up and over, resting it on your lower back so his view is right of your clothed cunt. Your wet slick has seeped through the light fabric, making Joel chuckle out as he stares right at it. His eyes make you blush, a bit of embarrassment filling your cheeks evidently as you look away from him for a moment.

He just glances up at you and grins, shaking his head at your reaction, "No need to get shy, baby.. S'hot, y'know that? Knowin' this pretty pussy's all soaked for me? Shit.." Joel lets out, laughing faintly as his stare returns back to your cunt, hands sliding back down to your ass. His thumb runs across your folds pressed so tightly together by your thighs, making you gasp and shiver out at the touch.

He moves his other hand now, index and middle finger sliding just beneath the side of your panties to get a good grip of it, pulling it to the side so he can see your throbbing hole and wet folds. It's a dirty scene right in front of him, but it has his cock twitching at the sight.

"Fuck, look at that.. Need me that bad, baby?" Joel whispers out to you, his eyes flickering up to your desperate face and back down. His stare and words make you whine out, your hole clenching around nothing as you swallow.

You do need him that bad, and you were getting impatient.

The action makes Joel sigh out, his thumb now sliding against your bare cunt and through your lips, gathering up how wet you were. His thumb now finds your entrance, pressing in just the tip of it as his eyes move back up to your face, eager to see your reaction.

You just moan out and clench around it desperately, eyes shutting for a moment as your heart races. "Fuck, Joel, just fuck me already, p-please.. Need it so bad.." You beg him, biting your bottom lip harshly as your wide eyes stare into his own.

He just licks his lips as he hears you, considering it for a moment. "Y'think you can take me like this, honey? Don't need me to do anything else? Might hurt.." He asks you, his concerns still evident despite the position you two were in.

You just nod your head at him quickly, whining out softly, "Yeah, fuck, I can take it, please— just need you, Joel.." Your chest rises as you breathe in heavily, wanting him to fuck you already.

Joel smirks at your pleads, the desperation getting the best of you, and it makes his cock even harder. He just nods up at you and removes his thumb from your cunt, shifting his knees and hips closer to your ass as he grips his cock with his hand.

He glides the tip of it up and down your folds, gathering the slick as much as he could. Pressing it against your entrance, he looks up at your face, his other hand gripping onto your hip as he slowly eases it into you. The stretch of him makes you hiss out, shutting your eyes at the intrusion and how big he is.

You stammer out, "F-Fuck, Joel.." as you pant softly, taking in deep breaths to let your walls relax and adjust to him as much as you could. He just grips onto your hip even tighter, giving you a sense of guidance and reassurance.

Joel's heart races at the feeling of your walls clench around him, feeling how tight you are. Grunting out, he pushes himself even deeper inside of you, still taking his time, "Good girl, baby.. Doin' so good, y'feel so good, shit.." He gasps out, his eyes now fixed onto the sight of his cock entering your stretched out cunt.

"Tight fuckin' pussy.. Haven't had one like this in so long, fuck.."

Your breaths speed up with each inch that fills you up, the girth of him creating a stinging ache between your thighs that were nearly trembling. The grasp your walls has on his cock makes it almost harder for him to move further, so he pauses— taking a second for you to adjust.

"You okay, honey? Doin' so good for me, such a sweet girl.." He murmurs out to you, almost panting out as he hisses out. His hands gently caress your lower back and ass, reassuring you as he bends over a bit to press small kisses on your skin. It makes you shiver, nodding your head in response to him, "M' okay, Joel.. Feels so good, p-please move.."

His heavy eyes look back up at you, acknowledging your request and smiling softly. It sends butterflies through your stomach at the thought of him caring so much about you, making sure that you were comfortable and enjoying yourself just as much as he was.

He presses one last kiss to your lower back, pressing his hands on it as he lifts himself back up. Gripping onto your hips, he nods at you and finally pushes himself all the way inside of your throbbing cunt, his hips now flushed against your own. The sudden movement makes you gasp out, your hands holding your body up attempting to squeeze onto the fabric of the seat.

"J-Joel!" You moan his name, eyes closing harshly at the feeling of the fat tip of his cock pressing so deep inside of you, making your involuntary walls constrict around him. It creates a burn in your lower stomach, your body growing hot at the feeling. It makes Joel grunt out, his neck lifting up for a moment to take a breath as he looks back down at your hips connected to his, hands caressing your skin.

He rocks his hips against yours, moving just slightly to get some friction as he allows you to adjust, groaning, "That's it, there y'go.. Knew you could take it, baby, fuck— Feelin' so good wrapped around me, s'it what you wanted?" He asks you, eyes flickering up at your face. Biting your lip, you nod, stammering out, "Mmphf— Y-You're.. so deep, shit, feels so good.."

He chuckles out, stare fixed on your worn out face as he pulls his hips back a bit, taking his time to thrust back into you as deep as he could. He wanted to prove to himself that what you were saying was true.

"S'that right, sweetheart? So deep? Y'feel me right here?" He asks, moving one of his hands just beneath your body and sliding it to your lower stomach, pressing harshly against it. It makes you gasp, feeling the bulge of his cock imprinting itself. You whine, breathing out, "O-Oh, fuck, Joel.. Yeah, feel you right there.."

He just grins at your response, muttering out, "That's fuckin' right, honey.. n' I'm the only one who's ever been this deep, huh?" He urges you on, head leaning a bit closer to you as his hips press tightly against your pussy.

You cry out, shutting your eyes for a moment as you nod, unable to fully form a coherent sentence for him. He just tuts his tongue, head shaking disapprovingly as he pulls his hips back all of the way, not taking a second to wait to slam himself back into you.

It makes you grunt, eyes shooting open as his words fill your ears, the slight mean tone in his voice making your face burn, "Asked you a question, baby.. So you tell me, your lil' boyfriend ever fuck you this good, honey? Fill this pretty pussy this deep?"

Your mind grows hazy, cheeks flushed as you attempt to spit out what he wants to hear, "N-No, Joel.. I, I-"

"No? No? C'mon, haven't even really fucked you yet n' you're already actin' so dumb.. S'that it, cock just make you all stupid for me?"

Tears fill your eyes as his hips pull and push right back into you again, giving you another thrust of his thick cock as you sob out, "J-Joel, shit, no, it jus'.. feels too good, p-please.." You moan, feeling the tight grip his fingers have on your ass nearly imprinting themselves into your skin.

"C'mon now.. Louder, baby, lemme hear it.. Tell me, wanna hear it loud n' clear.. Answer my question.." He pushes you, tone growing louder and strict. His thrusts begin to create an increasing rhythm that makes your jaw drop open at the feeling, his cock stretching your tight walls out with each push of his hips.

"No, Joel! N-Never.. never fucked me this good, oh fuck, never.. this d-deep.. shit!" You blurt out, mind barely thinking as you spit the words out. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, your brain and body goes numb, shuttering at the feeling of his unrelenting movements as your head hangs low, staring at your hands gripping the seat.

Joel's grunts and moans surround you completely as your ears begin to ring, his faint laugh and sudden smack of his hand on your ass snapping you out of it at the sting, "That's right.. pretty girl knows her place, fuck," He rushes out, suddenly grasping onto your hair to pull your head back, making you cry out, "Knew you'd be so good for me, honey.. Actin' like a fuckin' slut, takin' my cock this good.."

You breath out heavily, panting out as he holds back your head by his rough grip on your hair, pulling you back a bit to turn your head to try and get a look at him. His words make your pussy clench around him even tighter, turned on at his degradation.

You hum softly, whining as you nod your head gently, tears filling your eyes and threatening to fall as his pace grows even faster, now slamming into your cunt over and over again. He chuckles and grins at the slight sight of your eyes filling up, making him pout condescendingly at you.

"What? M' I wrong, honey? Y'gonna tell me you haven't been practically begging me to fuck you all these years? To treat you like this; like the slut you are, huh?" He taunts you, pulling his cock out all the way to rest against your entrance, and slamming it back in as deep as he could, "Know it's all you've wanted.. all you've ever fantasized about.. Y'don't gotta do that anymore, baby.. cus' I'm right here. Gonna treat you like the fuckin' whore you are.. That's what you are to me.. My fuckin' slut."

A tear finally falls down your cheek, making your lungs fill with air as you pant, mouth falling open and cunt convulsing around him. The tip of his cock keeps hitting the deepest spot inside of you, nearly making you blank out as his words make your cheeks flush. "J-Joel, I—"

Before you can stammer anything else out, Joel's grip on your hair now pulls your body up completely, making your back hit his strong chest, despite it being covered by his tight shirt. Your breath hitches in your throat, barely able to think as his sudden hand lets go of your hair and wraps it around your neck, holding your body right against him.

Keeping you still with the control he has, you moan out and flutter your eyes shut, body shaking and tightening up at him choking you. The back of your head lays on his shoulder, resting it there as he leans in close to your ear, whispering out, "Gonna ruin you for everyone else, baby.. Every time anybody else fucks you, you're gonna think of me; me and my fuckin' cock making you fall apart.. Y'gonna come runnin' back to me.. every fuckin' time— M' gonna make sure of it."

Your eyes open hazily, widening at his words as the grip he has on your throat suddenly pushes you away, making your chest and upper body fall down against the seat, arms not even having any power to hold yourself up. His hands and fingertips sink back into your lower back, now pressing your stomach flush against the seat as it creates an angle that makes you feel him deeper than you've ever felt before.

You can barely process it now, your mouth spewing incoherent noises and words as he holds you down, practically using you just how he pleases. Your hips pushed against the seat are constantly being driven by his thrusts, your pubic bone and sensitive clit being stimulated with each shove.

It makes your eyes shut tightly, unable to control yourself as you pant and moan out for him repeatedly, your hands shaking as you can barely get yourself to hold onto something. His cock buries itself inside of your throbbing cunt over and over again, Joel laughing at the squelching noises that your pussy was letting out.

Before he can say anything, a ring fills his ears that suddenly grab his attention, making his head turn as his movements slow just enough to grasp your attention to make you turn your head and look at the source too.

Your phone, laying on the middle compartment right next to Joel; he reaches for it and sees who's calling, making him grin and chuckle out.

Your boyfriend.

"Well, would y'look at this, honey? Talkin' about runnin' back.." Joel mutters out, turning the phone towards your direction for you to see it too. It just makes your eyes widen, cunt clenching as Joel tests you, "Why don't we let em' hear what you're up to, baby? See how much he's missin' out, huh?"

You know it's so fucking wrong; yet, so fucking right.

Joel doesn't even wait for your response, and just licks his lips and presses answer, putting it on speaker as he lays the phone flat against your back, lifting one of his hands on your hips to smack your ass. The force creates a loud spank, filling the phone's speakers as Joel's hips begin to move at a faster pace again.

It makes you mewl out, tears falling down your face again as your hands try to grip on the seat you were laying on. His grunts are loud and lewd, the snap of his hips smacking against your ass and thighs as he makes you take his cock repeatedly, "There y'go, just like that.." He mumbles out.

Your boyfriend's voice fills your ears now, confusion and the evident drunken tone making you roll your eyes, "The fuck? What was that, baby?"

Before you can even respond, Joel cuts you off, doing the job right for you.

"Y'don't gotta worry about her anymore.. M' takin' real good care of her now.. Ain't that right, baby?" Joel groans out, smacking your ass again as he leans in closer towards your back, nearly laying his chest against you. You just whine out in response, nodding your head quickly as Joel urges you further, tutting his tongue, "No, no, lemme hear it, honey.. Why don't y'tell him yourself? Let him know how good you're takin' my cock.."

Your body and face grows hot, licking your dry lips as you stutter, "F-Feels so g-good, Joel.. You're takin' such good care of me now, I—"

"What the fuck, babe? No, no, this can't be fucking happening."

Joel laughs loudly at your boyfriend's words, leaning his head closer to speak right into your phone, "Oh, but it is, boy. Not m'fault you couldn't fuck your girl this good. But, wait.. she isn't 'your girl' anymore now, is she?" He asks him, the arrogant tone spewing out as his voice lowers.

He reaches his hand over to your neck again, wrapping it around and squeezing it tightly as he ruts himself in you fast and hard, the pace and the hold of his fingers making you scream out his name.

"You fucking asshole, I'll fucking—"

Joel just cuts him off, sighing out annoyingly as he shakes his head, "Shut the fuck up. Don't you fuckin' call her again, much less lay a hand on her. You do that n' I find out?— I will find you. N' I'll make sure to break every bone in your fuckin' body, boy."

As your boyfriend gasps at his words, he begins to stutter some pathetic shit that Joel doesn't wanna bother hearing anymore; so he ends the call, tossing your phone to the side to focus back on you completely.

Shutting his eyes, Joel sighs out as he presses firm, yet gentle kisses to your back, his hips now going a bit slower, but deliberately harder so you can feel every inch of him, cherishing your tight cunt with each second that passes.

"There we go, honey.. Took care of that for you, y'don't gotta worry about him now, fuck— M' gonna make you feel so good.. y'won't need anyone else.." Joel whispers in your ear, laying his chest and body completely over your back as his entire being consumes you, his cock filling you to the brim with each push and pull.

His chin rests just below your shoulder now, grunting into your ear as he mutters filthy words into it, "That right, baby? M' I the only one you need? Gonna let me be the only one who can fuck this pretty little pussy? F-Fuck, please.. lemme hear it, shit— need to hear you say it.."

The pace of his movements start to speed up again as you stammer out, "Y-Yeah, Joel, you're the only one I need, fuck!" his cock twitching at your confession as you continue, "Only need you, only want your cock in me, please— need you to fill me up, make me yours, Joel.."

He moans at your words, panting out as he feels himself growing closer at your pleads, and you're right with him too. His cock hits that spot in your core over and over again, making you wail and sob out at the feeling of your stomach tightening and coiling, biting your lower lip harder to try and stop you from blabbering out.

"Don't do that, baby, no, wanna hear you— please, make those pretty lil' noises for me, honey, y'sound so pretty like this," Joel blurts out, unable to even think as he slams his hips against your ass, creating a sting that makes you lightheaded with your climax growing furiously, "Gonna make me come so deep inside you, baby, jus' like you want.."

His words hit something inside you, making you suddenly see stars as your pussy convulses around his cock, clenching and grasping onto him tightly as you come, your slick coating your thighs and his cock completely. Your body shakes and trembles as he fucks you through it, laughing faintly at your sudden orgasm. "Oh, fuck— there y'go baby, pretty fuckin' girl, take it.." Joel moans out, panting even louder and faster as he chases his own release.

You cry out, your cunt being overstimulated by his unrelenting thrusts as he buries himself even harder and deeper into you, making you spew out, "Shit, Joel! C-Come inside me, fill me up, please, please, need it so—"

Joel's loud grunts cut you off, feeling the sudden warmth of his come spill inside of you completely as he slams his cock in as deep as he can, making sure you feel every inch of him and his come. His hips rock into you, grinding his pelvis harshly to try and get even a fraction of him deeper inside of you. It makes you wince out, your sore cunt oversensitive at the feeling.

His body completely gives out on top of yours, his breaths filling your ears as you both take each other in, falling from your highs and trying your best to relax. You laugh softly as you process everything that's just happened, and Joel does the same, pressing small kisses to the back of your neck as his hand lets it go.

"Shit, honey— so fuckin' good.. You alright?" He mutters out, chuckling as you turn your head slightly to look at him, taking in your worn and fucked out face. You just nod your head at him, feeling a bit hazy as you smile, laughing out, "Yeah.. Never better."

Joel's eyes glimmer as he swallows, pushing aside the hair that was covering your face as he admires you, grinning softly at you, "Should've done this years ago.. Y'been holdin' back on me, baby." He murmurs out, his smile widening.

You press a small kiss to his lips, licking your own as you correct him, "Been trying to get you to for years, Joel.. not my fault it took this long." He just shakes his head amusingly, pursing his lips.

"Well.. Y'wanna stay with me for the night? Maybe I can teach y'another lesson on how a.. 'real man' should treat ya?" He proposes to you, laughing at his reference of what he said to you earlier and what started this in the first place.

You just smile at him and nod your head eagerly:

"Wouldn't want anything more."

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a/n: kinda wanted to make joel threaten/hit reader's bf, but i figured joel's idea of revenge was so much sweeter <3

this is by far my fav fic i've written out of my 1st three, so i’d love some feedback from you all! ♥️

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reblogs are appreciated!

send me requests & i might write it for you! :)

To The Devil I Know

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs / tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

When you find an old shirt of Mr. Miller’s lying around, you can’t resist. When he finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Wingman (himbo!Joel crackfic)

Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Watch Your Mouth

Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Love Tap (dad!Joel)

Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

If You Like Piña Coladas (neighbor!Joel)

You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

My Body, His Choice [freeuse]

After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Who’s Your Daddy? (stepdad!Joel)

You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Make It Stick

Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Stiff: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Cowboy Killers

On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Seeing Pink [DD/LG]

Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Easy to Please (sleazy landlord!Joel)

Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Wants and Needs (sugar daddy!Joel)

Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Bigger in Texas

Joel won’t fit.

Marcus Acacius

Bloodline

The General needs an heir.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝗱𝗮𝗱!𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻

you and Steve attempt to wrangle your ever-growing family. mom!reader, dad!steve

all in one place — newest first all in one place — written order

the first fic steve dotes while you’re pregnant with your first you have your very first baby your toddler makes a huge mess steve makes you cry being a great dad you find out you’re pregnant with your third steve gets his girls valentine’s gifts dove says her first word you celebrate dove’s second birthday you and steve are connected steve unravels on avery’s first day of school steve teaches avery to ride her bike avery learns about divorce steve is jealous of your mommy-daughter date steve has a really hard day with the kids steve sends you a drink from the bar the girls fall asleep early steve takes care of his sick family you go on your first big family vacation the harrington’s go poolside

steve makes the girls laugh uncle eddie visits steve and beth catch you working at night you’re startled when dove cusses emphatically steve gets upset and scares dove steve falls a little more in love with you steve defends beth from his rude mom steve gets home to his girls after a day apart the family celebrates the Fourth of July kisses before dinner the girls are so cute you cry you argue with steve when things get overwhelming avery doesn’t feel like anyone’s favourite avery worries that pregnancy will hurt you you try to get comfy with your bump steve loves his pregnant wreck of a wife you can’t deal with being away from steve you and steve take a babymoon you bring the new baby home steve tries to think of a name for the new baby

the girls try to help you with the new baby you go on a post-baby date avery reassures you of your great parenting the harrington’s get ready for halloween the harrington's start preparing for christmas you and steve argue about christmas jammies the harrington’s celebrate new year’s eve the girls end up in bed with you one by one the harrington’s gets ready for a dinner party steve bumps into his estranged mom at the store you and steve have some rare time alone steve feels amazingly content you comfort dove after a nightmare steve comforts you when you’re insecure you mediate a fight between avery and beth you take the girls back to school shopping you and steve comfort beth when she feels weird steve nearly cries when beth makes a friend the girls love steve’s home improvements beth spends some time in the hospital

you recuperate after beth’s hospital stay steve falters during beth’s recovery you coax beth in to eating on a hard day family movie night begins bedtime at the harrington house steve is overwhelmed with love at dinner you celebrate another mother’s day you celebrate another father’s day you gather the consensus on a fifth baby bump five emerges

note: this masterlist is my attempt at a chronological timeline, but the fics were written out of order, so there may be things that don’t line up

My friend who doesn't watch WWE wanted me to send her some info about the wrestlers so I sent her these..

Always on his mind

masterlist

go read Power Struggles !!

My heart belongs to you

masterlist

Tell no one

masterlist

My love for you has consumed me

masterlist

About a million times

ANIDALA + kissing (requested by @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo)

canon? found dead in a ditch far, far away

i bumped it with my x-wing

(tssss i love long hair padaobi)

Headcanon: Rupert changed his handwriting to make it easier for Taggie to read

series masterlist:

a collection of one-shots where steve falls for the new girl in town

part 1 ✿ new neighbour

steve is down because of his dating life, or lack thereof. that is until the new girl captures his attention

part 2 ✿ built to last

steve was just supposed to help you build a bookshelf. he definitely wasn’t supposed to have this much fun doing it

part 3 ✿ for you? always

you’re unravelling, badly, but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

part 4 ✿ stay for dinner?

a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

part 5 ✿ never second best 18+

after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick

part 6 ✿ jealous much? 18+

steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

Lego Star Wars makes me so happy.

indifferent [s.h.] 18+

an: heyyyy me again so yeah could not stop thinking about a pathetic steve so here we are!! enjoy and feel free to send suggestions, concepts, or just chat!!

side note i listened to i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys on a loop while writing this so do with thag what you will!

masterlist here!!

summary: you and steve are coworkers and while you try (and fail) to act like he doesn’t exist, he’s a little obsessed with you and would do anything to have your attention

(fem!reader x steve harrington)

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, public teasing (nothing too crazy), jealous reader, dirty talk, f masturbation, fingering, biting, kissing, spit, handjob MDNI!!!!!

wc: 15.5k

When it came to Steve Harrington, you were indifferent. 

You didn’t fall in with the group of girls who fawned over him like some king, worshiping the ground he walked on and giggling at his attempts at jokes. But you didn’t fall in with the other group either. The ones that hated him, that called him names and rolled their eyes when he walked in the room with a smile on his face. 

So you fell somewhere in the middle. To you Steve Harrington was your coworker, someone you often had to pick up the slack for or cover for when he was running late. You wouldn’t call him a friend but wouldn’t say he was your enemy either. 

The arrangement the two of you had worked well for you. You’d cover for him or save his ass when needed, and in turn he’d leave you alone. Well sometimes he would. You didn’t mind him but sometimes it seemed like he could go on forever and you just…it drove you a little crazy, okay? He was good about leaving you be, making small talk for a little before the both of you quieted down and went about your shift. 

Part of this arrangement was you teasing him until his cheeks burned and his felt fuzzy, but that was neither here nor there. 

But sometimes you think he just couldn’t help it. He’d start going on about something and then it would be 45 minutes later and he’d still be going. You let him do this about once or twice a week. You didn’t mind him or his company, so if it made him happy to ramble on every once in a while you could live with that. He was a yapper and you were quiet. You would hum along to something you’d heard on the way to work and entertain his chit chat for a few minutes but that was really it. 

Did that mean you couldn’t appreciate that he was actually really pretty? Of course not! He had dimples that made him seem boyish and sweet, even when he was being a menace. His hair was perfect, especially after he’d spent the day running his hands through it a million and one times. His lips were pouty and pink and so what if you stared at them when he was droning on about something? A perfect nose that you’d admired the slope of more times than you could count when he was sitting beside you going through returns. 

He was pretty. You wouldn’t deny that. But that was it. No more, no less. It didn’t mean you liked him or wanted him or would fall to your knees for him like half of Hawkins did. Sure, you passed the time at work by teasing him and making him squirm, but it was only because you were bored and he was there, all pretty and willing. 

You were indifferent. 

              ****************************************

Steve liked you. 

If you were in the same room as him he couldn’t help but to watch you. He didn’t know if you saw him and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d watch the way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear once every few minutes. He’d watch you scrunch your nose when you were reading and pout your rosy lips when sorting through dvd’s. God you were just so pretty. 

He wanted your attention all the time, he craved it. He knew he looked like a little lovesick puppy the way he followed you around and hoped you’d smile at him or indulge his ramblings every now and then. 

Pathetic. That’s what he was when it came to you. Sometimes you were a little mean to him but he liked it, loved anything you’d give him. He would even show up late on purpose sometimes just to hear you scold him! 

“M’not always gonna be here to cover for you, Harrington. Be a big boy and get to work on time.”

His cheeks would be pink and he’d give you a shy smile, promising this was the last time but you both knew better than to believe that. You didn’t put up with his bullshit, you called him out when he needed it and you didn’t try and act like somebody you weren’t around him. He loved it. 

Like today, you’d barely come in the door before he was on your heels, going on about some party from the weekend before and how it was sooo lame and that he didn’t have any fun. He’s so occupied with his rambling he doesn’t realize you’ve stopped until he slams into your back, hands coming up to grip your shoulders so you don’t both fall over. 

Your hands grip the counter just in time and he expects you to turn around and gripe at him, scolding him like a toddler who’d been on your heels but you don’t. You huff a laugh and playfully shove at his shoulder, shaking your head. 

“Jesus, Harrington. Maybe I need to get you a leash, hm?” 

And maybe Steve likes that a little too much because he can feel the tips of his ears burning and blush working its way up his neck and covering his cheeks in a pink that makes him squirm. 

He watched you quirk an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk on those lips he’s dreamed about for months and he wonders why he’s not more embarrassed, why his heart is racing and his cock is swelling in his pants. Fuck.

“On second thought, I think maybe you’d like that a little too much.” 

              *************************************

One thing you love about working with Steve is teasing him. You’ve done good to not let him get too close to you, staying neutral when it comes to his antics but you can’t help the giddiness you feel watching him blush and squirm when you’re mean to him. You’ve come to learn he likes when you embarrass him. 

You’re embarrassed to admit it makes you feel a little powerful, a little special when you make him this way. He’s not the big, bad, ‘King Steve’ he was in high school when he’s in front of you, oh no. You think he’s quite pathetic the way he’s practically attached to your hip and you relish in the way he hangs onto every word you give him, especially considering you don’t give him much. 

Like today you’re perched on a stool at the cash register, barely working oscillating fan doing little to cool you down when the ac is shitty, pushing around warm air that makes your thighs stick together and leaves a sheen of sweat on your forehead. You hate the heat, but what you don’t hate is the way Steve’s eyes are glued to your thighs, watching closely every time you readjust or a bead of sweat slides down your leg. 

“Careful, Steve, I won't be happy if you drool on my leg.” That snaps him out of it, shoulders thrown back as he whips his head up to your face and oh yep! There’s those red cheeks you’ve come to like so much. 

He opens his mouth to say something, probably nothing that would make sense but you spare him from trying to explain his wandering eyes, reaching down into your bag to pull out your next bit of entertainment for the day. 

This’ll be good.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him watching you closely and you can’t help the smirk you wear when your fingers find what you were looking for, wrapping around it and pulling it out for Steve to see. You don’t miss the way his lips part or the way he grips the counter in front of you. 

“They’re my favorite,” you wave the cherry blow pop in front of you like you’ve found gold, smirking at the way his eyes follow it through the air, “I only have the one but I can share, I guess.” 

It would be rude of you to not offer him any. You might tease and be mean, but you certainly weren’t rude!

Ripping the wrapper off you waste no time, sticking the sweet treat in your cheek, throwing away the trash and swinging your legs around so you’re face to face with Steve, knees pressed against his as your feet dangle off the stool. 

Maybe you could blame the way you make a show out of it on the lack of customers today. You’ve been here for 4 hours and only a handful of people have come in. Yeah, that’ll do. That’s why you pull it from your mouth with a pop that makes him flinch, lolling your tongue around the candy in a way that makes his eyes glaze over. You can hear him gulp when you hollow your cheeks and close your eyes, pretending like the taste of artificial cherry is what’s making your ears buzz and your heart race. 

Dragging the blow pop from your mouth you gasp, letting your tongue swipe against your bottom lip that you’re sure is shiny with spit. “Oh, where are my manners! Here ya go, Harrington, have a lick.” 

Not giving him a second to react, you surge forward, pushing the sucker against his lips before he has the chance to open, smearing the stickiness and your spit around his mouth and smiling wide at the sight of him, a tint of red around his pouty lips that suits him well. 

“Messy boy, aren’t you?” You swipe your thumb over his lips, collecting some of the mess and you can see the way his tongue peaks out and you know he’s dying to let it touch your thumb. You pull back before he can, popping your thumb in your mouth and humming around it as if it’s the blow pop itself. 

“Told you I could share!” 

You could be indifferent to him and still want to make him melt to his knees for you, right? 

             **************************************

Steve thought about the cherry blow pop incident for weeks. He was surprised he didn’t cum in his pants like a teenager when the spit soaked treat touched his lips or when he watched you suck on your thumb after it swiped across his mouth. 

That was just one example of how you tortured him, how he loved it. He’d had to go home that night and barely made it through the front door before he was pulling his cock out and picturing you on your knees in front of him, teasing him for being a “messy boy.” 

You had no idea. 

This shit would happen, these events that Steve was positive were chemically altering his brain chemistry, and he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you? You’d do something like that, something so hot it was engraved in his mind forever and then five minutes later it would be as though it never happened. You’d smirk at him, go back to what you were doing and spend the rest of the day ignoring him or giving him one word responses while he begged at your feet for a scrap of attention. 

He really was like a puppy. 

So he was confused, beyond confused on if you were friends, if you wanted him…he just didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen you act this way with anyone else and it made him feel…special. God he was pathetic. 

The problem with all this was that he wasn’t entirely sure you didn’t hate his guts. I mean yeah, you’d tease and scold him when he was being an idiot and you were mean but never cruel or malicious. But you also never really went out of your way to start a conversation, never really cared to keep one up with him either. You rarely smiled at him, which killed him, because he saw the way you’d laugh at something Robin said or the amusement dancing in your eyes when the kids came in to raise hell. You never let him have it though, and fuck he wishes you would. All he got were teasing smirks and he wasn’t complaining about them, not one bit, but he wanted to see if he could make you all sweet and mushy like everyone else did. 

There’s been a few times he’s caught you staring but you never back down, never look embarrassed to have been watching him and he wonders if you were staring so hard to put a curse on his bloodline or something! He wouldn’t mind if you were, the feel of your eyes on him somewhat satiate the craving he has for you. 

He’s thinking about you again, just like always. In fact he’s so deep in thought, leaned forward letting his chin rest in his palm that for once he doesn’t notice you come up behind him. 

He wishes he would have noticed you because then maybe he could have prepared himself to talk you and then maybe he wouldn’t have fucked everything up the way he did. Maybe it would’ve gone differently and ended without you in tears and him feeling the world's biggest douche bag. 

“Dreamin’ about me, Harrington?” 

“Aren’t I always.” He meant for it to come out teasing—but it didn’t. Now you were staring at him and he was staring out the window, the tips of his ears burning and he wished he could swallow his own tongue. 

“Anyways, any chance you’ll cover my shift this Friday?” 

“Why? Where are you going?” Full on pouting now he finally met your gaze. You never missed a shift, in fact you were the only one that anyone could count on to pick up extra shifts. 

“Who are you, my daddy?” 

His fingers twitched on the counter in front of him and neither of you missed the way his throat bobbed. Jesus Christ you made him crazy. “If you must know, I have a date and Friday is the only day that works.” 

Wait—what? You had a date? With someone who was not him. Based on the way his heart dropped to his ass, he realized he might want far more than just your attention. His throat clogged as he looked at you, waiting as patiently as possible for his answer but fuck a date? You’d never gone on one as long as he’d known you—well that he knew of. 

“But…you don’t go on dates.” 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Oh he was fucked now. He’d opened his big mouth and pissed you off—not in the way he’d liked either. “Well I just, I just meant I’ve never seen anyone ask yo—I didn’t think anyone…or you…I’ve never seen you go on one so I just figured you didn’t.” His foot could not get any further down his throat. He was fucking this up royally, but he was flustered! The pretty girl he liked was going out with someone, god knows who, and his feelings were a little hurt, even if he didn’t have the right! 

“Forget it.” Any amusement you’d held towards him vanished, something else passed over you that he recognized as hurt and then anger. Lots of anger. 

“Wait! M’sorry, I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“No you wait, Harrington. I don’t care what you think or what you think you know, it’s none of your business. I didn’t ask for you to question whether it was possible someone could like me enough to take me out, I asked if you’d cover my shift. Which—by the way—is not a big ask considering I cover your ass at least two times a week! But forget it, asshole, I’m sure my date was a fluke anyways, right?” 

Before he could apologize or even blink you’d stormed away, slamming the break room door behind you. Shit he was an idiot! A huge, massive, blubbering idiot who’d made you more mad than he’d ever seen. His words got all jumbled around you anyways let alone when he was jealous over someone else getting to take you out. 

He’d fucked up big time and was just sure you were cursing his bloodline now. 

                 *********************************

Big, angry tears rolled down your cheeks in the employee bathroom you’d locked yourself in for the last twenty minutes. You were pissed, livid even, but more than that you were hurt. Which was only making you more mad, because why the hell did Steve Harrington have the power to hurt your feelings! He wasn’t anyone to you but a coworker, maybe an acquaintance, and yet here you were crying in the bathroom at work because he…what? Didn’t think you were pretty enough or cool enough or—whatever he fuckin’ thought—to date? 

Okay, sure he didn’t say that exactly, but how else were you supposed to take his blubbering. And yeah, for the most part you were quiet and reserved and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have feelings for godsake. 

At the end of the day Steve was a guy, a cute guy that you’d admired for his beauty and wouldn’t deny that he was overall sweet and kind, and you were a girl, a girl who apparently was not meant for dates. 

And that hurts your feelings more than you’d care to admit. 

A knock on the door had you wiping at your cheeks furiously, though at this point nothing would be able to hide your red cheeks and swollen eyes. “Who is it?” You cringed at how your voice sounded cracked and whiny. 

“It’s Robin,” Oh thank god. Thank fucking god it wasn’t Steve. “Dingus is out here looking like he’s about to have a meltdown but won’t tell me what’s up, just said you were back here and that I should come check on you.” 

Taking a deep breath you pulled the door open just enough for Robin to slip in, quickly closing it back behind her and trying not to let your bottom lip tremble when she turned to look at you and gasped. You weren’t even a crier! What was going on! 

“Woa—shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Are you okay? What happened? Did they get Steve too, he seriously looks two seconds away from curling up on the floor.” Hands immediately covering your face you sigh, willing no more tears to fall until you can get out of here and into your own bed. 

“It’s not, I just—I really don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay? Do you think you could start early and cover the rest of my shift? I promise I’ll make it up to you I just…Rob I just need to go home.” 

“Of course I can, are you crazy? There’s nothing to make up. Go! I’ll tell Harrington you’re not feeling well and he’s stuck with me for the rest of the night,” giving you a reassuring squeeze as you gathered your things you’d grabbed on the way in here you gave her what you hoped came off as a thankful smile, “and when—if—you wanna talk about this, I’m here. Just so you know. I can listen sometimes despite what they all say.” 

You nodded, squeezing her hand and giving yourself one last look in the mirror, grimacing at the utter mess you saw staring back at you. Hiking your bag on your shoulder you fled the safety of the bathroom and all but ran to the door. 

Steve was with a customer, the polite smile he had on his face completely wiped off when he caught a glimpse at your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You didn’t spare him one look, practically running for the door without uttering a word in his direction. 

God he felt like a piece of shit. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen you upset, let alone crying. He’d fucked up bad and didn’t know how to fix it when he’s sure you wouldn’t give him the time of day now. 

He’d have to find a way to make this better, the pit in his stomach growing when he thought of you being upset—hurt—because of him. 

He stood there staring at the door until Robin came up beside him, a concerned look on her face as she studied him. “Did she say what happened?” 

“No, she didn’t. Just said she needed to go home and didn’t want to talk about it. I’ve never seen her so upset though, I’m worried.”

He was thankful she didn’t call him out for his bullshit. It was obvious whatever happened had been between the two of you and he didn’t think he couldn’t take Robin ripping into him right now, even if he deserved it.

“Yeah, me too.” And fuck he was. 

             *************************************

3 days since Steve had made you cry. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt because if you were being honest with yourself, maybe there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that grew fond of Steve. Steve with his goofy smile and bashful grin when he’d tell you stupid jokes. 

It was one thing to be hurt because he’d been a jerk, but now you were dealing with feelings you didn’t want. You’d been hurt because you liked Steve and hearing him say…well you guess he didn’t say much, just stumbled his way through some sentences that all started pretty shitty, your feelings were all twisted up that he viewed you a certain way. 

But instead of thinking too hard about these newfound feelings you had, you chose to ignore it completely. Obviously! You didn’t have the time or energy to worry about what Steve Harrington thought of you, especially when you glance at the clock on your nightstand and shit you’re gonna be late for work! 

This is your first shift in 3 days and your stomach turns because you know you’ll be working with Steve. It also happened to be Friday, the day of your date that you had canceled in a fit of hurt and anger when you got home from your last shift. But based on how that jackass you couldn’t even remember the name of took it, you’d dodged a bullet. 

You’re pulling into Family Video before you know it, dread washing over you and it doesn’t help that the humid summer heat as your bare thighs sticking to your seat, it only adds to your frustration. You make no move to actually get out, but you know you can’t afford to miss a shift or risk this job so you get it over with, pulling yourself out and walking in before you say fuck it and head back home. 

Walking through the front doors you see him immediately, standing behind the counter with worry etched between his brows and a small frown on his face. He looks like a kicked puppy, staring you down as if you’ve wronged him. 

“You’re late.” 

You stiffen, spine straightening at his words and a string of curses are on the tip of your tongue, ready to lash out at him because how dare he. But before you get the chance he’s speaking again, effectively cutting off the tyrade you had going on your head. 

“And that’s fine, totally fine! You’re just never late so I was worried, but then again I know today’s Friday so I wasn’t sure if you’d be showing up at all…I didn’t get the chance to tell you the other day I’d already told Robin I’d cover her shift today but I talked to the boss and if you need to go you can, I can manage one night by myself, I swear!” 

You didn’t answer him, walking past and heading to the break room to hang up your things and try and mentally prepare for what was sure to be the longest shift of your life. The only thing you had going for you was that it was a Friday night, so hopefully you’d be busy and not have time to stress over being stuck with Steve. 

When you come back out he’s standing in the same spot you left him, staring around like a lost little kid waiting for someone to give him direction. Well you won't be doing it tonight. Wordlessly you take a seat on the stool, trying your best to ignore his stare burning into the side of your face. You’d snap at him if you didn’t think you’d have a meltdown. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I know you said tonight was the only night that would work for your date and I swear to you I can handle it. The place’ll still be standing tomorrow.” 

Maybe you should go. You could go home and lay in your bed and wallow some more, eat some ice cream and try and forget the past week had ever happened. But you couldn’t. You needed the money and you certainly weren’t gonna hide from Steve when he’s the one that fucked up. So with all the courage you can muster you turn to him, doing your best to give a blank face so he can’t see the hurt brewing behind your eyes. 

“No, Harrington. I don’t go on dates, remember?” 

            **************************************

Steve watches you turn away from him and fuck, okay he deserved that. He was a major asshole who had spent the last 3 days trying and failing to figure out how to get you to forgive him. 

Then you walk in looking so pretty that for a second he forgets that you’re mad at him, that he had fucked up. But then he sees your eyes and they look sad, detached and that kills him all over again. 

If he thought you might have disliked him before then he had no idea how good he had it! He’d give anything for you to smirk at him, to call him an idiot or to roll your eyes and pretend like you didn’t care when he rambled on, even though he could tell you did care, your eyes always gave you away. 

“Can I please just—”

“No.”

“Please, I’m begging for you to just—”

“No, Steve.” 

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Goddamnit please just let me at least try and explain myself a little bit. I know I don’t deserve it but I hurt you and I never, ever wanted to do that. Please. 5 minutes, honey. Please.” 

He thinks he’s shocked you, eyes widening the tiniest bit before you shrug at him, casting a quick look his way before you turn back around and face away from him. 

“I’m listening.” 

Doing your best to ignore the fact that he just called you honey, he’s never done that, you turn to him and shrug, trying to act indifferent but on the inside you’re dying to know what he has to say. You want to know what he really thinks even though it goes against everything you’ve ever thought or stood for. 

Jesus Christ you were the pathetic one, hoping for the reassurance of King Steve. Highschool you would absolutely kick your ass if she could see you now. 

“I’m not…good at sorting my thoughts, especially around you and the shit I said the other day came out so wrong, so not how I meant it and I just—fuck I’m sorry. I never want you to be sad or hurt because of me…or anything at all,” He didn’t even know how to properly say anything without it coming out that he just liked you so much it made him a fool! “I was not trying to suggest people didn’t want to take you out, that came out all wrong. I’m sure there’s a line of people just waiting for you to give them a chance,” I would know, I’m front and center. “But I was just surprised because I hadn’t ever heard you talk about going on dates so I guess I just assumed…I don’t know. I’m an idiot who was also maybe just a little jealous and fuck it’s not even my business what you do! The point is that I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings, it was never my intention.” 

It had been a few minutes with neither of you saying anything, the store empty and only the buzz of the crappy ac could be heard around you as he waited for you to say something, anything. 

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? I’ll do it, I swear. I hate you being upset with me, it fuckin’ sucks.” He couldn’t help it, his skin was crawling the longer you stayed quiet and he thinks he’d do anything to get you to not look so sad. 

He hears a small huff from you and if he was looking he’d have seen it was a small laugh of disbelief. “I may be mean but I’m not cruel, Harrington. I wouldn’t make you get on your knees on this floor.” 

Relief flooded through him and despite the humidity swirling around in the air he swore he felt cooler, lighter than he did before. “Does this mean I’m off your shit list then?” 

Your laugh was loud this time and he felt his chest swell with pride that he had been the one to cause it, even if he hadn’t meant to. 

“What makes you so sure I have a shit list?” 

“Oh come on, you definitely do.” Things felt somewhat normal again and it eased the ache in his chest that had lived there for 3 long days. Maybe this whole thing would make you guys even closer, actually make you friends. 

“Alright, maybe I do. And you’re definitely on it, but not because of what happened,” He found himself smiling at you and if he looked close enough he swore he saw a ghost of a smile on your lips before you wiped it away with the back of your hand, “but about the other day, I…you did hurt my feelings. I know, it’s shocking I have them but every once in a while I’m reminded I’m just like the rest of you, unfortunately. Look, I’ve worked with you a while and you’re sweet, Steve. You’re a good guy and when you were saying those things…I know you didn’t mean it the way it came out, but it made me feel..fuck I hate this shit. It made me feel like you thought I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or some shit like that and it just…it fucked with me, okay? But I know you’d never be cruel like that so I forgive you. We’ll forget this happened so I don’t have to talk about my feelings anymore and we’ll be good. We are good. Fuck I’ll even admit we’re friends if we can not talk about this ever again.” 

“You think I don’t think you’re pretty or good enough?” That was all his brain could think of. How the fuck could you think that? Had he not been obvious? He all but drooled over you every time you were in his line of sight. 

“Really, Steve? That’s all you got! I just said we were friends. I'd thought you’d be over the moon.” Your eyes were looking everywhere but him and he knew you were trying to deflect. You’d just been vulnerable with him and he should move on but he couldn’t stomach you thinking you weren’t good enough or pretty enough, let alone thinking that he thought those things! 

“Honey, I’d be lucky even if you even gave me a second glance. Good enough? You’re too good for me and every other sorry prick in this town. I fuckin’ swear it. I was caught off guard and jealous. Jealous that someone else had gotten you to give them the time of day!” You looked stunned but he kept going, “And I can give you all the dirty details about how pretty you are. How I spend all day practically getting paid to stare at you, what a job! How I’ve memorized every little detail of your pretty face, how I stare a little too long when you’re bent over in front of me. Or how I think about your cute little mouth wrapped around that blow pop and wish it was my—”

“Steve Harrington!” You’d slapped your palm over his mouth to shut him up and if he wasn’t enjoying how squirmy you suddenly were he’d nip at your palm to make you jump. It was nice seeing you all red faced and hot because of him for a change, even though he loved it when it was the other way around. 

Maybe he’d said too much, let his filter slip a little too far but he wanted—no needed for you to know how perfect you were. Not just to him but to anyone with common sense. 

Pulling your palm away he opened his mouth but you shot him a glare as he did, as if you could sense he was going to do it. He watched as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and cleared your throat bringing your weary eyes to meet his. 

“Smacking me around now?” He was a little shit, he knew it but he was sure you liked it anyway. 

“You love it.” And shit, you’d got him there. He’d let you do anything you wanted to him with a smile on his face and his heart happy. But just because he’d made you feel better didn’t mean the hurt just went away and he’d do whatever it took to fix it. 

“Caught me,” He threw you a wink that you ignored, rolling your eyes at him, “but seriously, there’s not one thing wrong with you and I’m sorry that I made you feel any different. I’m a dick. I’ll tell you till I’m blue in the face how pretty you are if that’s what it takes.” 

“Oh no, I’ve heard plenty, you perv. Now I know why you’re so quiet when I’m reorganizing the bottom shelves, you’re staring at my ass!” He shrugged at you sheepishly, not being near as embarrassed as he should be for admitting that. 

“But…thank you, Steve. This was just a misunderstanding that you’ve more than cleared up. We’re good, Harrington. I’m good.” And the relief he felt was seen on his face and felt throughout his body. He could’ve used the moment to be sweet, dragging out the conversation but you still looked a little uneasy about opening up to him so he thought it better to go back to territory you were comfortable with, him annoying you. 

“Oh I know we’re good! We’re friends now, remember? Don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it.” 

              *************************************

Things between you and Steve had been…good. 

There was a bit of tension between you, the kind that made your throat dry when you looked at him and your thighs clench when he whispered something in your ear if customers were around and he didn’t want them to hear. Maybe it was from the things he admitted or maybe it was because you were suddenly much more aware of Steve. 

You’d had your talk, if you could call it that, a few weeks ago and the time you’ve spent together since then had been mostly normal. Steve, getting on your nerves, rambling about nothing for as long as you’d let him, looking at you with those pitiful puppy dog eyes when you gave him some attention. You, teasing him relentlessly, even more now than before. Covering for him less, he’d been showing up on time almost every shift you had together. Bending over in front of him more just to hear him curse and see his cheeks flush. 

And maybe kind of developing a crush on him. 

It’s not your fault, it’s his! How were you supposed to resist him after he said he’d be lucky to go out with you, after he told you he’d been jealous someone else was, after he told you how pretty you were and how he thought about your mouth wrapped around his—

Fuck—no, you were not going down that road again. Every time you thought about what he said, how genuine and needy he seemed when he talked about you, your head got all fuzzy and your knees threatened to give out. It was all you could do not to pounce on him the second the words left his mouth. 

So yeah, you had a big fat crush on Steve Harrington. 

He’d also taken your comment about being friends to heart, bringing it up every chance he got and using it as an excuse for the two of you to spend even more time together. You’d walk in Family Video and he’d flash you that smile, opening his arms for a hug you pretended to hate but in reality looked forward to every day. 

“Hello, friend.” 

“As your friend I have to tell you how pretty you look today.” 

“C’mon friend, come to this party with me. It’ll be lame without you.” 

You’d threatened to revoke his “friend” privileges and he’d gasped, clutching his chest dramatically and pretending to stumble to the floor. It took everything in you not to giggle at his antics. You were quickly becoming obsessed with Steve, and even more obsessed with how quick you could get him to turn into a puddle at your feet. 

That was how you find yourself here at the Hawkins public pool with your bag strap digging uncomfortably into your shoulder and sweat dripping down your back, wearing what you’d bet was a grimace as you walked around the scattered chairs looking for Steve. 

One thing that remained constant and strong was the mid summer heat that took your breath away and put you in a less than pleasant mood most of the time. Poor Steve got the brunt of your frustration but he never complained. And that’s why you finally agreed to come to the pool with him, because he was sweet and patient and adorable, even when he was annoying the shit out of you. 

What you didn’t account for was the added heat you’d endure from seeing Steve shirtless before you, arms crossed over his chest and pale pink swim trunks sitting on his hips. 

When did Steve Harrington get chest hair and why was your mouth watering over it? It made him look sexy, older in a way that erased all boyish features you’d come to love. He looked…fuck he looked hot. His hair was slicked back and you knew he’d already gotten in, too impatient to wait for the 10 minutes longer it had taken you to get here. He had a trail of hair on his lower belly that ran down under the band of his swim trunks and you think you might have actually let out a whimper at the sight. 

You took a step toward him and cursed yourself when your legs wobbled a little bit. If he saw it he didn’t say anything, righting yourself quickly and making your way over so you could toss your bag into his waiting arms, trying not to look at the patch of chest hair just inches from your face and failing miserably. 

“My own personal pool boy, a girl could get used to this.” 

It didn’t take long to figure out that the easiest and quickest way to get yourself together was to turn it on him, to make his hands twitch and his stomach clench and to tease him until he was panting like a puppy. 

“At your service, ma’am.” 

Grabbing your arm he tugged you to the chairs he’d saved for the two of you, a cooler sitting between them with the lunch he’d made for the both of you. It makes your heart skip a beat and your tummy flutters. Your sweet Stevie. 

He sat your bag down between the chairs, laying back so his arms were stretched back and crossed behind his head, a twinge in your stomach tightening as you watched him stretch out before you. A fucking Greek god. You needed to even the playing field and you needed to do it now. 

Grabbing the sunscreen from your bag you put on the sweetest smile you could conjure while your body screamed at you to straddle his thighs and kiss him dumb. “Stevie, can you help me out with this?” He nodded without thought, that’s just how kind he was, sitting up to grab the bottle from your hands. 

Before he could make a move to get up you knocked his legs apart, pushing yourself down and back so that you were wedged between his thighs, your back almost completely pressed against his front. 

He cursed behind you, trying to scoot back but your hands dug into his thighs to keep him there, a silent plea. You’re sure if you could see his face he’d look almost pained at the feeling of your skin pressed to his. 

You heard him flip the cap open and squeeze some sunscreen in his hand, neither of you saying anything for a moment before he leaned forward, his lips almost touching the shell of your ear when he spoke, “s’gonna be cold.” You nodded wordlessly and straightened up a little, pushing back further into him. 

“Fuck.” You didn’t mean for it to slip out and hoped you could blame it on the cold lotion hitting your back, but you knew that was a lie. Steve’s big, calloused hands on your shoulders and back had you holding back whines and moans threatening to climb up your throat. Jesus Christ this felt good, too good. 

Any composure you had left flew out the window at his next move and you were quickly falling behind in the one sided game you’d started with him. 

You felt his hands move down lower to where the string of your bikini tied in the back, your thighs clenching hard when he slid them toward the front, following the line of your top and just barely slipping under the cup of your breast to tease the skin there before he was pulling back and going to your shoulders again. 

Holy fuck. 

He tensed behind you when your fingers dug harder into his thighs, but you didn’t even mean to. It was just a knee jerk reaction to his fingers gliding over the underside of your boob for Christ's sake. It wasn’t until you leaned back just a little, totally innocent you were just readjusting, that you felt it. 

Steve was hard. His swimsuit did a shit job of concealing it. And he was pressed up against you so tightly you could feel him throb against your lower back when you gasped. This was your opportunity to one up him, to move ahead a few spaces. 

Head turning to the side just slightly so he was in your peripheral, you needed to make sure he was looking and listening. You spoke as if you weren’t dripping wet yourself, thighs sore from how hard you’d been squeezing them together. 

“Poor baby, touching my shoulders and grazing a pair of tits has you all needy, huh?” 

He whined low in his throat, leaning forward to press his forehead against your back. You could feel little puffs of air against your skin as he tried to compose himself, not that you’d let him. 

“Stop. Don’t be mean.” The words were whispered against your skin and you smiled. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean. Gets you hard, doesn't it, when I tease you?” You were being mean, so mean, but if the way he subtly tried to buck up against you was indication of how he felt, he loved it. 

You kept going, basking in the feeling of his hands grilling your hips tight and his breathing against your back was getting faster the more you talked. 

“You really are like a puppy. It’s just so fucking cute how whiny you get when you’re like this.” 

Both of you stilled when a whimper slipped out a little too loud and all of a sudden you remembered where you were, a fucking public pool. Steve must have realized too because he pulled back, scooting far enough away that you weren’t touching anymore and you hated how you already missed the feel of his skin on yours. 

Clearing your throat you shuffled over to the other chair, glancing at Steve to see his mouth shut and eyes looking anywhere but you. Maybe you’d gone too far. You opened your mouth to apologize but before you could he was up and tugging you to the edge of the pool, jumping in and practically dragging you in with him. 

The cool water actually did a good job of cooling you down, physically and mentally. When you broke the surface, gasping for air, Steve was already there looking at you. You couldn’t read the look on his face, couldn’t tell if he was upset with you so you bit the bullet. 

“M’sorry if I went too far, Steve. It’s just…you were…the sunscreen—you were making me feel crazy so I wanted to even it up. I shouldn’t have done that though, especially not here. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

For the first time since you came up from the water he broke his stare, opting to look around you before he came closer, pulling you in so no one would hear your conversation. 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m not. I only pulled away because I was seconds from cumming in my shorts like a teenage boy and I was embarrassed.” 

Lips pulling into a smile you covered your mouth and he pouted at you, huffing like a child when he saw you trying not to laugh at him. “No need to be embarrassed, Stevie. You can’t help that you’re a needy little thing.” 

His hand swatted at yours that had come up to pinch his cheeks and you cooed at him to tease him further. “So mean.” He tried to look annoyed but failed and it made your stomach dip at how pretty he looked, drops of water falling off his lashes, lashes you and every girl in Hawkins would kill for. 

“You really are pretty, Harrington.” The tips of his ears burned bright red and he moved toward you instinctively, like he wanted to kiss you. God did you want to kiss him. But you didn’t want to do it in a public place where you wouldn’t be able to make a mess of him after so you pulled back and splashed some water in his face with a giggle. 

“C’mon big boy, let’s swim! I didn't come all this way just to stare at your cute face.” 

Although you wouldn’t mind it. 

          *******************************************

The next few weeks are quiet, work goes by painfully slow when you’re not with Steve and you hate it. Your shifts with Steve are filled with teasing touches and flushed cheeks and very little work. 

You’ve also been spending a good chunk of the time you’re not at work with Steve as well. He somehow almost always convinces you to come over to watch a movie or go with him for a late night ice cream run. You find yourself in his car or playing with his hair while you lay in your bed more often than not. 

And you love it. 

Trying to act like you weren’t obsessed with him was exhausting so you mostly gave it up. You’d smile at him more, laugh at his jokes more freely, and have become much more touchy with him. 

Neither of you could seem to keep your hands off each other if you were in the same room. He always had to have a hand on your hip or one holding your thigh and you couldn’t keep your fingers from rubbing at his neck or slipping through his hair if he was close. 

There hadn’t been a conversation about what was happening, but neither of you seemed to mind. You think that you’d become best friends who were just crazy about each other and that was enough for both of you. 

Until it wasn’t. 

If you were being fair, you knew that technically you and Steve hadn’t officially become exclusive or anything. The two of you probably weren’t even dating, even though you spent all your time together. Cuddling and teasing constantly. 

But you weren’t fair. Everyone who spent any amount of time in a public setting knew that you and Steve were, for lack of a better word, an item. If someone saw you at the grocery store or at the post office, or anywhere, it was a safe bet that Steve was two paces behind you if he wasn’t already at your hip. 

This was common knowledge. Or at least you thought it was. So it’s a surprise, a bad one at that, when you come back from your break with a smile on your face that is quickly wiped away when you see some blonde you went to school with hanging over the counter with her tits pushed at Steve, a devious smile on her face as she bats her eyelashes at him. 

All the blood rushes from your body and you’re not sure you can even keep down the sandwich you’d had for lunch. A sandwich that Steve had made for you, might you add. There’s a horrible twist in your belly and you’ve never felt such rage as you have looking at the way she toys with the collar of his shirt between her fingers and at the way he gives her a small smile and doesn’t pull away. 

You were jealous. So jealous it took the breath right out of you and made your brain go blank. One minute you’re standing there with your skin hot and heart pounding and the next you’re sliding back into your seat beside Steve with a glare so sharp it could cut glass. 

“Need help with anything or are you just gonna keep groping the staff?” If your glare was sharp your words were sharper, serious and stern and directed at the girl who was still touching Steve, your Steve. 

Both the girl and Steve’s eyes widen at your tone. She finally takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again. You see the way Steve’s staring at you but you don’t look at him, you can’t or you might do something crazy like hit this girl, or even worse, cry. 

Once the initial embarrassment from your words wears off she straightens her back and narrows her eyes in your direction. “I think we had it handled, sweetie. Your coworker here,” You flinch at the way she emphasizes coworker and feel yourself shrink a little, “was just giving me some movie recommendations. But thanks for the offer.” 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The words taste bitter on your tongue and you want to slap the smirk off her face so bad your palm twitches. Steve is quiet beside you and you can’t even begin to process how that adds to your fury, to the pain that’s bubbling up beneath your skin and threatening to spill out. 

You’ve taken one, maybe two steps away from the counter, ready to go back to the bathroom of shame and cry again over Steve fucking Harrington when a hand on your wrist stops you. 

The same hand, the one that belongs to the boy you’ve become enamored with, tugs you gently back to his side, hand leaving you for just a second so he can wrap his arm around your waist and tug you into his side. Your hips are touching and you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the pain and anger dissolving while his hand grips you tightly against him. 

A sick satisfaction runs through you as you watch the way her jaw clenches and her eyes dim as his arm curls around you. Coworker my ass. Steve clears his throat beside you, catching yours and her attention, “I’m afraid I’m all out of recommendations for you, but maybe my coworker here has some for you.” Before she can even think about speaking you cut her off with a faux pout, “I don’t think I do, sorry!” 

Deciding Steve isn’t worth the battle you’re more than willing to start, what an idiot, she turns around and pretends to look through the new releases for all of five seconds before she’s scurrying out of the store and leaving you both alone again. 

Steve gives one last squeeze to your hip before he moves to sit back down, the reality of your little outburst smacking you in the face. Well, this is awkward. You sit down on your stool, tapping your hands on the counter while you try and gather the courage to look at him. 

You hope he’s not upset with you and if he is well…fuck him! Just because you haven’t said it out loud doesn’t mean he’s not yours. You know for a fact if he caught you flirting with a guy he’d be pissed! All whiny and pouty and pawing at you for attention. So you were justified in being upset, totally and fully justified. 

Now you’ve worked yourself up to tell him off and give him a piece of your mind, and you turn to him to do just that when it all slips away in an instant. Because Steve isn’t upset, no, he’s staring at you with wide, bright eyes and a smirk so big and knowing you curse yourself in your head. 

Oh this is even worse! Now you’ve given him a big head, bigger than he already had! 

“So that was…interesting.” You can hear the amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. You much prefer him all pathetic and whiny over this…cocky Steve. But really you don’t mind this either. 

“Shut it, Harrington.” You think if you weren’t so obsessed with him you’d have the decency to be even a little embarrassed at how you acted but you aren’t! You practically marked your territory in front of her and you can’t find it in you to care or regret it. 

“You were jealous. Over me! I’ll never shut up about this! I’m taking a spot in the paper for this, alerting the press as we speak!” His bottom lip between his teeth and he looked giddy like it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten the brand new shiny bicycle he’d spent all year wishing for. 

You could have denied it, but what was the point in that? Everyone already knew anyway how you felt, you weren’t exactly subtle about it. Might as well embrace it at this point. 

“And so what if I was? Figure you’re mine anyways, right?” Your cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink as you watch him take in your words, his eyes a little wide and a small shy smile on his lips. 

“I am?” 

God okay, maybe you hadn’t been as obvious as you thought the last months. 

“Well…I thought so. You take up all my time anyways, Harrington, might as well. Plus I like you—well a lot. I’m yours too, ya know. If you want I guess, I don’t know, I thought this was just unspoken between us and now you’re making me nervous!” 

His lips parted in what could either be shock or awe, you weren’t sure. He didn’t look appalled at the idea so that was a good sign, right? 

“I’m sorry I just…sometimes I’m not even sure you like me all that much so I’m just a little shocked but yes! Fuck—yes I’ll be whatever you want.” 

Maybe he was a little dumb or maybe you weren’t as good at showing your feelings as you thought but either way you’d make sure he felt wanted, needed by you. 

“Steve, if I didn’t like you I promise I would not be spending all my time with you. I’m mean sometimes because you like it and I like seeing you all messy and cute. M’kinda obsessed with you, you idiot.”

His grin widened, dimples popping out and your heart sped up at the sight. He was pretty, so pretty and despite how you acted sometimes you felt so lucky that he even wanted to spend any time with you, let alone all of it. Steve Harrington had wiggled his way deep into your heart and your brain and you think your life would be dull without him. 

“I’d ask you to pinch me but I know you’ll make it hurt,” Your hand reached out automatically towards his thigh and he swatted you away with an eye roll, “I’m obsessed with you too, have been for months. Since the first day you started actually. Want you to be my girl, wanna be yours too.” 

Leaning forward you pressed a quick peck to the corner of his mouth and you felt his head turn, trying to catch your lips. He wouldn’t get off the hook that easily, it took no effort to remember how it felt to see that girl's hands all over him. Even if it wasn’t his fault you don’t think he’d mind paying for it anyways. Add on the cocky grin he had earlier when he realized you were jealous and all of a sudden you had big plans for Steve Harrington, plans that made your thighs clench and had you pulsing around nothing. 

You cooed at him, pulling back just in time to see his brows furrowed and a cute little pout working its way on his lips. He had no idea what was coming to him and you couldn’t want to see how sorry he would be. 

“Patience is key, baby.” 

          *****************************************

It was a week later when it all clicked for Steve. 

A week of teasing touches and sneaky glances his way, even when people were looking. You’d leave a kiss on his cheek or the corner of his mouth or on the side of his neck right right under his ear. He was going crazy, body leaning forward subconsciously anytime you were near him. 

You’ve barely let him touch you and at first he was worried but you’d whisper in his ear about “payback” for making you jealous and while he was nervous, now he was just excited. And impatient, wanting and begging for you to just do it already. He couldn’t take much more teasing, his cock had been aching for what felt like forever and no matter how many times he found himself in bed, stroking himself to the thought of you, it wouldn’t ever be enough. 

He thinks you’ve finally decided to put him out of his misery, calling him earlier to ask if you could come over, that you had a special surprise that was just for him. He’d agreed without hesitation, telling you to come over whenever you wanted and that he’d be waiting for you. His parents weren’t around this weekend so he didn’t have to worry about them and he was thanking god for that. 

It had been 4 hours and 37 minutes since you called, not that he’d been counting, when he heard a knock at his door that had him all but jumping over the couch and sprinting for the front door. He practically ripped it open, grinning wide as he took you in with dreamy eyes and his stomach twisted in knots. 

You were wearing a sundress that reached about mid thigh and he had to hold himself upright with the door at the sight of your bare legs, tan and smooth and fuck he just needed to bite at the skin between your thighs. The dress had little strawberries printed all over and he’d bet money that you tasted just as sweet as the fruit. His mouth watered at the sight of your full lips all glossy with whatever you’d put on them and it took everything in him not to lean forward and suck your bottom lip into his mouth. 

He didn’t realize he had been standing there just staring until you cleared your throat, a knowing smirk on your lips as he shook his head to clear him from the daze you’d put him in. “S’pretty, you’re so pretty.” His voice was quiet and he wasn’t sure if he meant for you to hear or if he was just talking to himself. 

“Thank you, handsome. Can I come in or do I need to stand on the porch with you eye-fucking me all night?” He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to your crassness, even though he wasn’t complaining about it. He loved that you spoke your mind, no matter how dirty, and hoped what one day he’d be comfortable doing that too. 

“Right, right, yes come in,” Pulling the door open he stepped to the side so you could come in, knees wobbling when he caught a whiff of your perfume as you passed, “Are you hungry? I can…order something. I don’t have much to cool but maybe I could run to the store real quick?” 

He heard your muffled giggle as you walked through the house in front of him, hips swaying as you walked and he felt his cock twitch in his pants just looking at you. 

“Just hungry for you, Stevie.” 

You were teasing, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure you weren’t serious by the way you eyed him over your shoulder like he was your prey. And fuck did he want to be. He’d crawl around on the floor if you asked. 

By the time he followed your trail and made it through the living room you were at the foot of the stairs, lip between your teeth and hands together behind your back all innocent. You both knew better than to believe that. 

“Can I see your room?” Fuck this was happening. He nodded at you, grabbing your small hand with his and relishing in the way it felt to hold you. He led you up the stairs and was careful not to go too fast, to seem too eager. He knows you’d tease him for being so excited but based on the look in your eyes he thought that maybe you were pretty excited too. 

Pushing his door open he watched as you took in his room, eyes light as you scanned over the posters he’d hung haphazardly, some artwork the kids had drawn for him hanging above his desk. His bed was unmade and he cursed himself, as if you’d care. 

“Looks exactly how I pictured it.” 

“You pictured my room?” 

“Maybe.” 

He stood still, leaning up against the door he’d closed and locked behind him as you made your way around, lifting up papers and magazines, humming quietly to yourself. You must have been a witch or something the way he’d become so entranced with you, following your every move like he wasn’t meant to do anything else.

So when you turn around to face him quickly, he’s startled, eyes shooting up to meet yours like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. 

“Alright then, on the bed.” 

The flurry of questions he has does little to deter him as he scrambles past you and pushes on the bed a little too quickly. He falls forward face first and hears you snicker behind him. He’s not sure where you want him so he hopes he’s right. He scoots back, flush against the wall, the headboard on his left and foot of the bed on his right. 

“You want this, Harrington? I’m not misreading anything, right?” 

He’s shaking his head furiously, eyes wide and mouth closed as he watches for your next move. 

“Oh now you have nothing to say? Months of knowing you and you’re hardly ever quiet. Use your words, big boy.” 

“Y-yes, I want this. Whatever you want.” 

The smile you reward him with makes his chest ache and the blood rush through him so fast he can hear it pounding in his ears. He thinks he wants you looking like that all the time, proud and pleased with him. 

“Good! It’s time for payback then.” 

        **********************************************

You really really hoped your nerves didn’t show on your face as you stood in front of Steve. You don’t think he’d notice even if they did, eyes glazed over as he waited for whatever you had planned. 

Now at this point you were over the whole jealousy thing from last week, really you were! But you played into it a little extra just so you could be mean to him right now. Although with the plans you had, you’d be being mean to him and yourself. 

Wordlessly you reached down, fingers toying with the hem of your dress and you watched as Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, throat bobbing slightly as you lifted it a few inches before letting it drop back down. 

This only lasted for a few minutes before you’d had enough, gripping your dress and almost ripping it over your head and letting it drop to your feet. What you hadn’t mentioned was that you had nothing underneath it, absolutely nothing. 

Steve drank you in, slack jawed with his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he moved from your face to your tits, staring at your already hard nipples that you would blame on the coolness in his room. His eyes moved down further and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made your clit throb under his stare. 

Was that some drool leaking down to his chin? 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Can I?” You don’t think he even realized the words left his mouth and you fought the urge to laugh at how out of it he seemed already. 

“Not tonight, baby.” 

His hands fisted the sheets below him as the pet name slipped past your lips and you smiled sweetly at him. Pointing to the headboard you directed him with a quiet voice, “I’m gonna sit there,” moving your hand to point toward the foot of his bed he followed your finger eagerly, “and you’re gonna sit there, facing me.” 

He obeyed instantly, shuffling toward where’d you directed him while you climbed onto the bed and and situated yourself against his headboard with your legs stretched out in front of you. 

“Can I have your shirt?” It wasn’t anything special, a plain white t-shirt that hugged him beautifully, but you wanted it all the same. To have his smell surrounding you, covering you in him. He peeled it off so he was left in a pair of jeans that stuck to him in all the right places. Unsure of what to do he tossed it to you and you wasted no time in slipping it over your bare frame, pleased that it bunched at your hips just how you’d hoped.

You could see the disappointment in his face at the extra layer you’d added and you itched to lean forward and pinch his flushed cheeks in adoration. He was just so adorable it made you crazy. With everyone else he was strong and stern, the babysitter and protector and king of Hawkins.

But with you…with you he was soft and sweet, pliable in your hands like putty and you ate up every second of it. 

           ****************************************

Steve thinks he might have gone to heaven, you sitting across from him in nothing but his shirt with your thighs on display. 

His chest feels hot despite the cool air hitting his skin and he thinks if he doesn’t get his hands on you in the next three seconds something horrible might happen. You're giving him that teasing smile that makes his tummy clench and sends excitement zipping down his spine. 

He still can’t believe you like him, that you’re obsessed with him. It’s like a dream come true and he thinks he’s pinched himself at least 17 times in the last week. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you call his name softly, head snapping up to meet yours and he feels dizzy all over again from how pretty you look. 

“You’re gonna watch me, okay? No touching me or yourself until I say.” Wait—what? He gives you a nod and tries not to let his disappointment show in his face, and he knows he fails based on the way you smile and shake your head at him. 

But any disappointment he had is gone in a flash when you lean back and spread your legs to give him a glimpse at just how much you like him. He might black out, he’s not sure. You’re glistening for him, a little bit of slick on your thighs and suddenly he’s starved. He audibly groans at the sight of you on display for him. 

“She’s pretty—fuck so pretty.” He’s talking more to himself than you but he sees the way you twitch at him referring to your pussy as “her” and it makes him smile shyly, still not moving his eyes from where you’re dripping on his bed. 

He watches closely as your hand trails down, rubbing over your thighs for just a second before you’re taking two fingers and spreading yourself open for him, both of you too impatient to drag this out too long. Before he can stop himself he’s moving forward, going to his knees and crawling across his bed that feels far too big all of a sudden. He doesn’t realize he’s moved until your legs are closed and one foot is pressed against his bare chest, stopping him from getting any closer. 

One hand is holding him up and the other is holding onto your ankle as he pleads with his eyes for you to let him closer, just a taste, he just needs one little taste. 

“We’ve just started and you’re already breaking the rules?” The faux disappointment in your tone makes him pout, leaning down to press a small kiss against your calf and he hears you chuckle at his attempt at distracting you. 

“M’sorry, baby, you’re just so pretty, she’s so pretty. Let me have a taste, please? I’ll be good after that, I swear. Just one taste, honey.” 

He watches in anticipation, hope is swelling in his chest as you study him and he can see the contemplation in your eyes as you take him in. He’s so close he can smell you and it lights his whole body up, cock so hard pressed up against his jeans he could cry. 

“Hmm, no,” He hears the whine he makes but can’t be bothered to care, “what fun is payback if I give in before I’ve even touched myself! You can be patient, I know you can.” You have much more faith in him than he has in himself, body slumping in defeat before he’s moving back to where you directed him the first time. 

“Can I at least take these jeans off? It hurts, baby.” 

“Fine, but the boxers stay on, sneaky.” It takes him no time before he’s peeling his jeans off, sighing in relief when some of the pressure is released and he feels like he can breathe again. 

Well he can breathe until you’re spreading your legs again, fingers slipping back down to tease at your clit as your eyes stay locked on him. His chest is tightening as he watches you. Watching the way your legs spread wider when you notice him fisting the sheets beside him. Watching the way your head falls back against his headboard when you move down to circle your messy hole, a moan so lewd coming from your mouth he feels a bead of precum drip down his cock. 

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t decide if this was heaven or hell but he’s sure that either way he’d gladly spend an eternity here. 

He’s torn between watching your face or watching your fingers in your cunt, eyes flickering between the two every few seconds so he didn’t miss something important. He remembers how you compare him to a puppy and he’s sure he’s never looked more like one than he does right now. He’s practically panting across from you and you’re the treat that would be making his tail wag—if he had one. 

“Feels so good, Stevie. This is how wet I get just from thinking about you, ya know? Always have me messy and ready for you.” 

“Please let me touch you. Fuck—please, sweetheart. Need it so bad, need you so bad. I’ll be good, I swear. Never make you jealous again. God I swear I’ll do anything.” 

He knew you were getting close, thighs threatening to close on your hand and hips lifting from the bed eagerly. He could see it on your face too—you wanted to deny him, to torture him some more but he could see you giving in. 

“You beg so pretty, Harrington. Fuck, get over here. Now.” 

He didn't need to be told twice, launching himself across the bed and fitting himself between your thighs that had opened a little to accommodate his wide frame. He waited expectantly, and you smiled down at him fondly. 

“You know, you really look like a—”

“A puppy, I know. So can I have my treat then?” 

Nodding at him you swiped your fingers through your folds and held your hand out to him, fingers shiny with you and he opened his mouth quickly. His head moved forward and he took your fingers in his mouth, lapping his tongue around them greedily, determined not to waste a single drop. He hummed around them, eyes closed so he didn't see the way you were staring at him like he’d hung the moon. 

“S’good then?” You sounded breathless above him and he could only nod, not wanting to drop your fingers from his mouth just yet. God, you tasted good. He’d compare you to a nice summer treat but the truth is you’d be perfect for any season, any day. Fuck he’d stay buried between your thighs 24/7 if you’d let him. 

He finally pulled off just enough so that he could speak, “better than a blow pop.” The laugh that pulled from you made his heart warm. It was loud and genuine, shoulders shaking slightly as you grinned at him, teeth on display and everything. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, you pressing your fingers down on his tongue and even though he’d cleaned them up, the taste of you lingered and he would gladly sit here with your fingers in his mouth for hours. 

But you had other plans. 

“Need your fingers, Stevie. They’re bigger than mine and I’m already close from watching you lap at my fingers like a little greedy puppy.” His eyes fell from yours, cheeks red and ears burning as you teased him. 

“Can I use my mouth?” 

“Mhm, not today. I already gave in way too quick, you were just too cute to say no to.” He wants to pout, to protest and beg but he thinks just watching you fall apart on his fingers will be more than enough for him. 

You part your legs further as he slips down to rest his cheek against your inner thigh. His hair tickles the soft, sensitive skin there and you giggle. He moves just enough to press a quick, open mouthed kiss and dreams about the marks he hopes you’ll let him leave there one day. 

With a nod from you he moves his eyes to your cunt, swollen and dripping, and runs his fingers over your clit just to feel your thigh twitch against his cheek. He wraps the hand he’s not using around your thigh, clutching it to him tightly as he eases two of his fingers into you. They slip in easily with no resistance and the feeling of your warm, hot walls snug on his fingers makes him grind his hips down into his bed. 

“Shit—she feels good, hugging my fingers so tight.” Your hips buck up against his hand, urging him in deeper and he smiles against your leg. A groan slips out of him when your hand slips down to rub slow, loose circles on your clit, head rolling back so that all you can see is his eyes peeking up at you. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so hot in his entire life. He can see the little beads of sweat rolling down your forehead and how you’re panting and whining above him, especially when he curls his fingers upward and finds that spongy spot that has your mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing shut. 

“There it is, yeah? That’s the spot?” You’re nodding quickly, fingers that were circling your clit are now sliding into his hair and gripping it tightly. The burn of it makes him moan against your thigh, the sting of your grip making his eyes roll back into his head almost. 

“D-don’t you dare stop, Harrington. M’close, so so close.” He doesn’t think there is anything that could get him to stop. Not when you’re dripping down his hand and your thighs are shaking like they are. 

The final straw is when he moves his mouth down a couple of inches, teeth scraping against the skin where your thighs almost touch and he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. He hears the thud of your head knocking against his headboard and the curse that flies out of your mouth as you clench down on him so hard you almost push his fingers out. He works you through it, licking over the mark he just left to soothe the sting and slowing down his fingers once you start to twitch and whine from the feeling. 

It’s not until you're pushing his hand away and letting your legs slump that he takes a peek at you, a lazy smile on your face and hair sticking to your forehead where you’d been sweating. He knows there’s a widening grin on his face as he looks up at you, placing one last kiss before he’s sitting himself up so his legs are under yours and his hands are resting on the tops of your thighs. 

“If that’s what you call payback then remind me to piss you off more often!” 

You roll your eyes, letting your body fall back against his headboard, “Don’t get smart with me now, Harrington. Not when I’m about to make you cum. I would hate to change my mind.” 

His ears perk up and honestly he hadn’t even thought about himself since he’d gotten between your thighs, content with watching you squirm and moan around his fingers. But he wasn’t gonna turn you down, hell no! Just the thought of you anywhere near his cock had him twitching in his boxers. 

He closed his mouth, fingers coming up to mimic zipping a zipper of his lips and tossing the non existent key far behind him. You smirked at him, hand coming close to pat his cheek, almost like you’d pet his head. 

“Good boy, now turn around and take those boxers off, please.” 

          ********************************************

Holy shit. You didn’t think you'd ever cum so hard in your life. You swear you might have actually seen stars for a minute there when he curled his fingers just right. And when he bit you? How the hell did he know you had a thing for biting. 

Keeping him at arm's length had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, especially when he was looking at you like you were a five course meal in front of him. He’d practically been salivating at the sight of you and it took everything in you not to give into him immediately. 

But now that you’d cum, all you could think about was him. About finally getting your hand on his cock and listening to the way he’d gasp and whine with your hand around him. Just the thought was enough to send another wave of arousal and need over you, your toes curling and fingers digging into his bed. 

He still hadn’t moved in front of you and you cocked your head at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly had that sad pout on his lips. “What’s the matter?”

His cheeks were red and he looked almost embarrassed as he tried to avoid eye contact with you and you worried you’d done something to upset him. Maybe this wasn’t as good for him, maybe he didn’t like you teasing him? 

“S’just…you haven’t kissed me and I just—I wanna kiss you so bad but I didn’t know if there was a reason you hadn’t or maybe you just didn’t want to or—”

You cut him off, gripping his shoulders and pushing your lips against his that were swollen and slick with spit. He moaned against you, sighing and relaxing in your hold. Fuck—how had you not kissed him yet? 

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip and you heard the little whine he let out when you didn’t let him in, laughing against his lips. He took the opportunity to move closer, hands moving to fist at your hair and you felt lightheaded from how good he felt, how sweet he tasted. 

When you needed to breathe you regretfully pulled back, foreheads touching and noses bumping into one another as you both took big, greedy gulps of air. His eyes almost sparkled as he looked at you, a shy smirk on both your mouths. 

“Better?”

“Perfect.” It was hard to ignore the way your heart thumped against your rib cage like it was trying to fight its way out. He was perfect. Everything about him and the way he carried himself drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Your mind was consumed with all things Steve. 

And while you wanted to be mushy and sweet with him, one glance down between you had your mouth watering and fingers twitching at your sides. There was a dark wet patch on his blue boxers and the outline of his cock was prominent. You think you know why he was so cocky in high school now, he definitely had the goods to back it up. 

“Kiss me whenever you want but if you don’t get your boxers off in the next 5 seconds I might do something crazy.” 

Your words snapped him out of his post kiss haze and you laughed softly as he scrambled off the bed to pull his boxers down his legs and practically kick them across the room. You gulped at the sight of him, of his pretty and thick cock already leaking and shiny for you. You motioned him forward, eyes kind and soft as you spread your legs for him. 

He smiled when you patted the space in front of you and he crawled back between your legs and shuffled so that he was sitting in front of you, his back pressed to your front, the material of his shirt clinging to his sweaty back. Your thighs stretched around his hips but you loved the slight burn it brought you. You laid back and brought him with you so that he was slumped against your chest, your feet hooked over his calves. 

His hands were on either one of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there while his arms were loose at his sides. You took the opportunity to slip your hands under his arms, hands reaching up to run over his chest, tweaking one of his nipples on your way and watching the way his cock twitched where it was resting against his lower belly. 

Steve looked like a dream, head thrown back on your shoulder, thigh thighs spread open with his pretty cock on display for you. As your hands made their way to his tummy you scratched softly, fingers sliding through the trail that started under his belly button and went down. He must have felt sensitive there because he turned his head to the side, mouth pressed against your neck as he cursed. 

“S’good, so good. Fuck, I swear anything you do feels fuckin’ perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder at his words, feeling the high of them as he spoke. 

Holding your hand out in front of him, palm up toward his face he hummed against you, not sure what you were wanting him to do, but willing to do just about anything if it meant your hand would be on his cock. 

“Spit.” 

All that was heard in the room was his quick intake of air, eyes fluttering as he leaned toward your hand. He looked back at you once, to double check that this was real or for confirmation that you really wanted him to spit in your hand, you’re not sure. But you nodded, throat bobbing as he turned back and spit, watching in awe. 

“Good boy.” 

Any strength he had left was gone at your words, head falling back to its place on your shoulder as you moved your hand down, taking hold of his cock and hearing him hiss at the contact. 

You think this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

His cock was hot and smooth under your touch, a mix of his spit and precum making it easy to glide your hand over his shaft, letting your thumb catch on the tip and relishing in the way he gasped in your ear. 

“Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hmm?” The feeling of his fingers digging into your thighs only spurred you on, hand tight around him as you stroked him quickly, loving the way his tummy would clench and he’d gasp at how slick he was, how good it felt. 

You’d never seen him so needy, so pathetic as he was right now, little whines and pleas against the shell of your ear as you gripped him. He was heavy in your hand and you wondered how he’d feel on your tongue, how he’d taste when he thrusted into your mouth. You’d add that to the list of things you needed to do immediately. 

“M’sorry, sorry fuck—you’re gonna make me cum, m’gonna cum—oh shit.” He was throbbing hard against your palm, breathing even harder against your neck and you cooed at him when his hips started thrusting up in time with your strokes. 

“Without asking? I don’t think so, Stevie. You haven’t even said please!” Your hand slowed and he moved so his hand was wrapped over yours, trying to get you to go faster but you swatted him away, scolding him with a pinch to his hip. 

Taking one look at his face that was still buried in your throat, you could tell he was out of it, so fucked out you weren’t sure he could even form words, let alone beg. But that didn’t stop you from egging him on, slowing down until he was so worked up he was on the verge of tears. 

“Oh fuck—please…baby, honey, please let me cum? I’ve been so good I just..shit I need it. You feel so good, perfect girl. O-oh my god, please. Please please please.” 

He was mumbling, a mix of curses and pleas as he left sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your throat. You think you’d give him anything he wanted right now with how pretty he sounded, all pathetic and fucked out for you. 

“Go ahead, pretty boy. Cum on my hand, yeah? Make a mess of us.” Your hand sped up on his cock, feeling yourself leak into his bed as he twitched against your fingers. You kept going, kept talking as his hips got sloppy and cock was red and begging for release. 

“Don’t know how you’ll ever fit inside me, Stevie. Gonna have to prep me for days I think.” 

“Next time you’ll have to use my mouth, yeah? I hate letting your cum go to waste.” 

“Y’look so pretty like this. My sweet boy thrusting up into my hand, gonna think about this for days.”

He thrusted up one final time, hips stilling and body going tight as his orgasm took over. His cum coated your fist that was still wrapped around him, reaching his belly and even spilling down onto his thighs. He couldn’t even see the way you pouted at how much had been wasted, cursing yourself for not letting him use your mouth. 

Slumped completely against your chest he mumbled something about his legs feeling like jelly and you giggled, cheek resting against his forehead. 

“Soooo, good then?” 

It took all the energy he could muster to squeeze your thigh, head moving to the side a fraction so he could look at you, smiling so big his cheeks had to hurt. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I think I just saw god for a second.” 

Rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders, butterflies danced in your stomach at how pretty he looked. His skin was flushed and glowing, hair a mess where you’d both pulled at it, lips swollen and red from biting and kissing and holding them between his teeth. He looked phenomenal. 

As much as you’d love to stay here wrapped up in him for the rest of your life, your thighs had gone numb from being stretched around his hips and your back ached from sitting back against his headboard for so long. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nodding off on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and little puffs of air hitting your skin. You tapped his cheeks with your clean hand, “C’mon, Stevie. Gotta clean us up and then we can go straight to bed.” 

He groaned in protest but leaned up enough so that you could slip from behind him, legs tingling when you stood on them, hobbling to the bathroom on shaky legs and flipping Steve off when you heard him chuckle from behind you. 

“Oh fuck off, Harrington.” 

          ******************************************

When Steve wakes up the next morning it’s slow and sweet, eyes blinking open and a small smile on his lips when he feels you pressed into his side. 

He looks down and tries not to laugh at your mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool on his chest from where your cheek is squished against his skin. Your hair is sticking up in every direction and he can feel your breath on him. It makes his heart grow in his chest, an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment washing over him as he stares down at you. He could get used to this, you attached to his hip and waking up to you in his bed. 

Thinking back to when you barely gave him the time of day, he smiles at your relationship now. How you’re just as needy as him, tugging on his belt loop to pull him to you if he’s not close enough for your liking, pulling his hand to your thigh in his car if he doesn’t do it first. He’s seen you use your foot to pull his chair closer to yours at work countless times, a little smile on his mouth every time. 

There’s a part of him that doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He feels that way all the time but especially when you laugh louder than you mean to, hand coming up to cover your mouth with a bashful smile. He feels it when you're humming along to a song you’d heard on the radio, head moving side to side and hips swaying to the beat in your head. He feels it when you randomly bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and to his fingertips. 

He feels it all the time, really. 

And he loves when you're mean to him, when you tease him about staring at you too long or for getting all bashful when you do something normal like tuck your hair behind your ear or scrunch your nose. He loves that you turn him into mush. 

“Stop staring, you creep.” He’d been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice your eyes opening or how’d you had scooted closer to him, one leg coming up to tangle with his, wrapped together tightly. 

“That’s rich coming from you considering I’m gonna have to clean your drool off me.” You gasped, sitting up straight and smacking at this chest, appalled at the notion that you would ever—could ever—drool on him in your sleep. 

“Keep it up, Steve. Remember what happened the last time you pissed me off?”

As if he’d ever forget. Unfortunately for you, the idea of repeating last night, or anything like it, was hardly going to deter him from pressing your buttons in the way that only he knew how to do. Reaching out he tugged you back down to him, tucking you back into his side and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” 

edit of all time

JOE KEERY Wonderland Magazine BTS (2024)

C O L D ! R E A D E R M A S T E R L I S T !

CAPSULE SERIES [GENRE]

/kæpsjuːl ˈs̠ɛrieːs̠/

A series of stories or documents that can be read in conjunction with each other or as stand alone articles.

[ pair. ] spencer reid x fem!cold!reader

[ fics. ] thirty four

[ key. ] 🌨️/angst ❄️/fluff 🧊/hurt*comfort

main masterlist.

0.9k | greetings & salutations. ( ❄️ : you meet spencer reid for the first time.)

2.1k | (under)qualified. (❄️🧊 : Sometimes, having older people work alongside the team is beneficial, other times they’re ageist and discredit anyone younger than them. The only real solution for that is to stand up for yourself.)

1.4k | roommates. 1.4k | part two. (❄️ : when you and spencer share a room together on a case, you find yourself a little out of character at the revelation you'll have to share a bed with him)

1.1k | checkmate. (❄️ : morgan and spencer just cannot agree on whether or not chess is actually a fun game to play, dragging you and emily into their debate in hopes of gaining a majority vote.)

1.0k | majority vote. (❄️ : morgan is convinced that you're incapable of expressing human emotion, so you bring spencer in as backup to consolidate you.)

2.3k | breaking the ice. | 2.4k | part two. (🌨️🧊 : Sometimes people just cry, there doesn't really have to be a reason. But when you have a reputation for being cold and uncaring, being emotionally vulnerable with other people isn't very easy. Spencer doesn't care though, he'll get through to you either way.)

1.6k | takedown. (❄️ : Who knew watching somebody take down an unsub would cause Spencer to feel so many emotions at once?) | 2.4k | part two. (❄️ : Spencer might be a know-it-all, but at least he actually knows the things that he talks about.)

3.1k | backup. (❄️🧊 : some men are assholes who only care about their own gratification, some men are spencer reid.)

2.9k | cup of coffee. (❄️ : a local officer on a case you're working on really wants to impress you, spencer reid does it without even trying.)

1.6k | trypanophobia. (🧊: you get an injury that needs medical stitching to stop it from scarring properly, but you’re not a fan of needles.)

2.8k | close call. (🧊🌨️ : spencer runs head first into a situation that almost gets him killed, and you show your concern in a very roundabout way.)

1.5k | little things. (❄️ : You'd like to say that you were entirely successful in emotionally removing yourself from your coworkers, but Spencer had managed to work himself into a crack in your emotional wall and the rest of the team is starting to notice.)

3.0k | hometown. (🧊❄️ : spencer runs into an unfortunately familiar face during a case in las vegas, and you help him escape it whilst inadvertently proving you pay more attention to him than he thought you did.)

2.3k | sick day. (🧊❄️ : Stubbornness is both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, but there's always going to be one person with enough leeway to force you into what's best.)

1.0k | visitation. (❄️ : the team come to visit you post surgery, you're feeling a little more accepting than usual.)

1.5k | artificial sweetener. ( ❄️ : spencer's affinity for sweet drinks often bites him in the back when it comes to coffee shops, but with you as his conpany, it doesn't last very long.)

1.2k | talking fists. (❄️? : alcohol and a short temper don’t mix, who would’ve thought?)

1.5k | secret santa. (❄️ : spencer’s a little stumped on what to get you for secret santa.)

1.0k | just another day. (❄️? : you and the team get caught in texas over christmas.)

2.3k | oh no. (❄️ : Spencer makes a (rather terrifying) revelation in relation to his ice-hearted coworker, who might not aetually be all that ice-hearted.)

1.2k | face to face. (🌨️ : you threaten to crack under the stress of spencer’s abduction.)

2.2k | à bientot. (❄️ : spencer takes an opportunity to get closer to you based on nothing more than a passing comment.)

1.4k | midnight visitor. | 1.3k | part two. (🧊 : after a particularly eventful case, spencer has a night terror, and the only person he wants to see, is you.)

1.1k | adrenaline. (🧊🌨️ : you and spencer get caught in an explosion, and you’ll be damned if you don’t both get out of it.) | 2.0k | part two. ( ❄️🧊 : you wake up in the hospital after the explosion, and spencer hasn’t left your side.)

1.4k | soft-serve. ( ❄️ : spencer reid hates germs. so why should he have to deal with them.)

5.1k | spin the wheel. ( ?? : you and spencer have to go undercover as a couple for a case. chaos ensues.)

1.2k | stagnant. ( ❄️? : why would someone ask spencer a question if they didn’t want to hear the answer?)

3.2k | how pitiful. ( 🧊 : a case hits you harder than it should, and spencer shows his concern in a very spencer way.)

2.4k | cracked ice. ( 🌨️ : a foot chase goes awry when a shot takes you down. spencer makes sure you're alive enough to make it to the hospital.)

Chalkboard Hearts - S.H (Coming Soon)

Single parenthood is no easy feat, but you and your daughter Abbey seem to be making it by just fine. That is, until the morning that you drop your daughter off for her very first day of elementary school and meet her teacher for the year: Mr. Harrington.

Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, early-mid 90's, teacher!steve harrington au, single!mom!reader, parenthood

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV - Coming soon!

Chalkboard Hearts Pt III - S.H

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Single!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Summary - A winter dance recital prompts you and Steve to spend a little more time together outside of the school.

AN - here they are again! the crowd favs it seems. thank you all so much again for the love on previous parts, i’m so excited for everyone to see where the story is headed and what these two losers get up to next. ~ emma <3

Outside the door labeled with a plaque that reads ‘Mr. Harrington’ in neat font, you can just barely make out the faint hum of a distantly familiar song. The door is slightly ajar but you still give a soft knock before entering to announce your arrival.

“Mommy!” Abbey shouts as she barrels towards you; whatever activity she was previously occupied with long forgotten.

“Hi, bug!” You greet through a quiet grunt as you hoist her up. “How was your day?”

Steve had taken to tutoring Abbey after class most days. He had originally offered under the guise that she was falling behind some of the other kids, and while that may be true, you suspect that he really offered because he noticed how guilty you’d been recently for being late picking Abbey up from school. Your job has been keeping you past three, despite having told them repeatedly that you have to clock out by two. You can’t afford to lose said job– rendering you both effectively homeless– and embarrassingly enough, Steve knows this.

“Good!” she wriggles out of your arms, not too partial for physical affection these days, “I was showing Mr. H my dance for the recital!”

“Is that so?” You ask, amused.

“Yes, but Mr. H is not very good at dancing–” she makes a pitiful face that she unsuccessfully hides from Steve.

“--Hey!” Steve laughs, “I think I’m pretty good!” Trying to sound confident but faltering, it elicits a boisterous laugh from you.

“Show us your moves then, Harrington,”

“Fine,” he huffs defiantly and hilariously contorts himself into what he thinks is a correct position for a pirouette. He balances on one foot– the other one tucked clumsily into his knee– and brings his arms up and over his head like one of those spinning jewelry box ballerinas.

“No, that’s really good. You should keep going,” you try to trap your giggling between your teeth, but Abbey doesn’t spare him such mercy, as she is literally doubled over in a fit of laughter watching him.

“Jerks!” He stops his sorry excuse for a twirl long enough to take in the sight of Abbey, who’s still cackling so much she doesn’t even notice he’s done with this antics. A knowing, affectionate glance is shared between you two at the sight of her.

“Whaddya think, Ab? Am I ready for the big stage?” He motions towards himself flamboyantly– striking a pose with his hands on his hips. Not sensing his sarcasm, she exclaims, “No!” incredulously through her gasping, trying to catch her breath. You imagine this isn’t the first instance of this happening today.

“I guess I’ll leave the dancing up to you then, huh?”

Suddenly, her expression erupts with a look of joy that only comes from a great epiphany,

“Can you come to my recital?!”

–

“Mommy that hurts!” Abbey whines from where she’s seated on the bathroom counter.

“Just a few more minutes and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

Trying to tame her unruly curls into a slicked and gelled ballerina bun was proving to be more challenging than you originally thought. Her dance teacher's instructions were very clear, however– the hair must be in a bun, accompanied by the most ridiculous amount of blush you’ve ever seen on a child, so that she doesn’t look pale under the stage lights.

One entire bottle of hair gel and several broken hair ties later, the updo is as neat as you can possibly manage, “Alright, girl, you’re all set. Let’s go get your costume on, yeah?”

She nods as you assist her off the counter and onto the tiled bathroom floor. She books it to her room and you follow suit, but when you look in her closet where you could’ve sworn you left her costume– it's nowhere to be seen.

“Abbey… where’s your costume?” You ask through a tight lipped smile, suspecting you know exactly what happened to it.

“I don’t know…” she answers mousily.

“Were you using it to play dress-up?”

She breaks instantly– her guilty conscience making it impossible for her to lie to you for very long, “Yes but!--”

“--Abbey!”

“I put it right back where I found it!”

You take a deep, grounding breath before you truly start to overreact, “Well obviously not, Ab. Just help me look for it, okay?”

Twenty excruciating minutes later, you’re sweating and on your hands and knees tearing through your daughter’s closet; the mess you’re making is a problem for your future self. Every item of clothing starts to look exactly the same– just an amalgamation of pink and glitter and blinding sequins.

“I found it, mommy!” Abbey yells triumphantly from the hallway as she sprints into her room– beaming and holding the tutu like it's a gold medal.

“Yes!” You gasp with relief and haphazardly crawl in her direction, suddenly thankful that no one else can witness you in such a state, “Hurry, let’s put it on.”

You slip the sparkly red and green costume on her as quickly as possible without damaging the bun you just spent at least an hour on. She does a little twirl, grinning ear to ear, “I feel like a princess!” She exclaims.

In the car, you struggle to buckle her seatbelt over her frilly tutu. After a little finessing, you figure it’ll be fine for the drive up the road to the local high school where the recital is being hosted in their auditorium.

–

In the lobby, you’re looking as disheveled as you feel. Abbey held one of your arms, and in the other you carried a small duffle bag full of extra hair products and a spare set of tights. She’s bouncing with nerves beside you, and asking you for at least the fifth time in ten minutes, ‘Where’s Mr. H?’

“I’m sure he’s here, Ab, we just have to find him,” you reassure her again, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you scan the room for a perfectly manicured head of chestnut colored hair.

And as if he’s got some powerful sixth sense for knowing when he’s needed, you spot him timidly entering the double doors, dodging stray children and looking a little out of place. He holds a small bouquet of red roses that match the shade of his cheeks and nose– tinted red from the biting chill of early December winds.

“Steve!” You call from where you and Abbey stand near the makeshift dressing rooms– waving frantically to get his attention for your daughter's sake just as much as your own, “Over here!”

A look of recognition and then relief passes over his features when he identifies where his name is being called from, and slowly but surely starts to make his way over to you both. If he was just smiling before, he was positively beaming when he caught the sight of Abbey for the first time. His strides increase in length to catch up to you faster.

“Abbey! Look at you!” He compliments, and suddenly she’s all bashful. The man she looks up to almost as much as her own mother is here to see her perform for the first time, with a bouquet of flowers and an unrelenting grin plastered on his face. The sight does nothing to extinguish the steadily growing fire that’s made a home in the pit of your chest the past four months.

She shyly eyes the flowers in his hands– the bouquet almost the length of her own torso, “I brought these for you,” he extends them out for her and she accepts them timidly, swaying on her feet like she can’t stand to be still, “Thank you,” she all but whispers.

“Of course,” he squeezes her little hand as he straightens back to his full height. He directs his attention to you, “How are you? Did everything go alright?” Now you’re sure you look as frazzled as you feel.

“We had a mishap or two, but nothing we can’t handle. Right, Ab?” She’s not paying the slightest bit of attention– too busy observing the older kids as they mingle in front of the auditorium with their friends, “I’ll tell you about it later,” you give him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, “when does the show start?”

Checking your watch, you reply, “Just a few minutes. I’m going to drop her off backstage, stay here.” He gives a two finger salute and you recapture Abbey’s focus enough to guide her down the hall where dozens of other dancers in identical costumes were congregating.

You kneel down to her eye level, “I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be amazing,” gently pinching her blushing cheek for emphasis, “Mr. H and I will be right up front, okay?”

She nods once, “Okay, momma,”

“I love you, Ab,” you give her one last squeeze before sending her off, albeit begrudgingly. You know she’s in good hands with the instructors, but lately it seems like the universe keeps finding new ways to shove in your face just how quickly she’s growing up.

When you relocate Steve, he’s standing exactly where you left him.

“You ready?” He asks as you approach.

“Mhm,” you nod and smile in response, suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze. Being around him with Abbey is one thing, but without her as a buffer, you find yourself getting increasingly jittery.

An usher hands Steve a program for the recital, which he promptly passes to you before thanking the woman. You can feel his right hand just barely hovering over your lower back with a featherlight pressure to guide you through the swarms of families attempting to enter the auditorium. You don’t think it’s even a conscious act, but the touch makes your heart– for lack of a better phrase– drop into your ass. You come to the stark realization that to the untrained eye, you must resemble two doting parents here to watch their child perform.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” He asks, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Oh–uhm,” trying and failing to speak around the dry muscle that sits in your mouth like lead, “Row C, I think,”

When you reach your assigned seats, he waits for you to go ahead of him, holding his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first’, just like he did that day on the bus. It makes you swoon just as much now as it did then. The auditorium feels sweltering.

“Hey,” he places a clammy hand on your knee when he notices you zoning again, “You okay?” Oh my God get it together, you think.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just,” you pull at the neckline of your wool sweater, “It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. Long morning?” He asks with an empathetic wince.

“You could say that,” you chuckle breathlessly, “With her? Every morning is a long morning,”

“You can say that again,” he shares in your laughter, “keeps me on my toes, alright.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” you sigh introspectively, “some days I feel like she couldn’t be less like me even if she tried.”

“I beg to differ,” The way he smiles at you sets you on fire from the inside out, but the lights dim– signifying the beginning of the show– before you get the chance to ask him what he meant. It’s only then that he removes his palm from your leg, and you immediately miss the weight of it resting there.

The Nutcracker theme plays over the loudspeaker as a group of ten or so little girls perform a haphazardly put together ballet number. Almost all of them are doing something different, but with huge, toothy smiles on their faces nonetheless. Originally, putting Abbey in dance served as a way to tire her out before bedtime and give yourself a measly hour of alone time, but seeing how much effort she’s put into practicing and how much joy she takes in performing cements your decision to keep her in class.

She performs wonderfully, just as you suspected she would. Always your little perfectionist. You may be biased, but you thought she was the most elegant and beautiful little girl on that stage.

When the company takes their bows, you and Steve both shoot up at the same time to give a standing ovation. Everyone else stays seated, which would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so filled to the brim with pride for your daughter. There was simply no room in your body for any other emotion.

“Yay, Ab!”

“Let’s go, Abbey!”

You both shout simultaneously, clapping your hands ecstatically.

–

Back in the lobby, your arms are overflowing with Abbey’s things from the dressing room along with the flowers Steve brought her.

“Did you see me?!” She asks expectantly, as if you could’ve seen anyone else up there except for her.

“Of course we did!” Steve assures her quickly, “For a second I thought I was watching the real Nutcracker,”

She blushes wildly, “Really?” If you didn’t know better, you thought you could’ve seen stars reflecting in her pupils.

“Totally! You were the best one up there,” he takes his forefinger and mimics drawing an ‘X’ shape over the left side of his chest, “Cross my heart.”

Abbey tugs on the hem of your sweater you were starting to become too warm in again, “Can we still go get milkshakes?” she asks. You had forgotten all about her stage fright induced breakdown two days ago, during which you promised to get her a treat if she went through with performing.

Checking the time, you saw it was already well past eight o’clock– but what would one late bedtime hurt?

“Sure, that sounds yummy. Say goodbye to Mr. H, then we’ll go,” she barrels into his legs at full speed– her signature– and wraps her arms tightly around his knees.

“Bye, Abbey, I’ll see you on Monday, ‘kay?”

She reluctantly loosened her grip on his legs and made her way back to her designated spot next to you.

 “Goodbye, Steve, thanks for coming.” You give a small wave accompanied by a tender smile.

“Thanks for having me.” He said, returning the gesture.

Feeling a little reluctant yourself, just as Steve was crossing the threshold of the double doors, you called,

“Hey, Steve?”

He turned back at the sound of your voice, looking at you over his shoulder just enough for you to admire the straight slope of his nose and the twin moles on his cheek. He was giving you that warm, anticipative smile you were beginning to grow particularly fond of.

“Yeah?”

“Would you–uhm,” Don’t get nervous now, “Would you want to join us?”

–

At Benny’s, Abbey insists on sharing a booth with Steve while you sit opposite of them on an uncomfortable, sticky vinyl chair. Steve orders a basket of fries to share and shakes for the table. Strawberry for Abbey, and chocolate for the adults.

At one point, Abbey lifts the straw from the old fashioned shake glass and attempts to spoon the whipped cream into her mouth, consequently dripping the frozen treat all over the front of her sweatshirt. You try not to fuss, even though you’re plagued with the fear that you won't be able to get the stain out of her brand new hoodie. Such is having a five-year-old, you suppose.

Steve was quick to grab the napkins at the far end of the table, surprising you with his reflexes– like he knew the mishap would occur before it actually did. 

As he’s dabbing Abbey’s shirt dry, she studies his hand and asks, “Why don’t you have a wife Mr. H?”

“Abbey!--” You scold through a poorly concealed laugh. Steve barks out a shocked huff of laughter himself.

“How do you know I don’t have a wife?” He asks, looking a little dumbfounded at the suddenly intrusive line of questioning, but amused nonetheless.

“Well, mommy used to wear a ring for daddy, but you don’t wear a ring.” She observes, “Aren’t grownups supposed to be married?”

“Ab–” You grow quickly embarrassed by your child’s lack of a filter and social cues. Again, such is having a five-year-old.

“No, that’s okay,” Steve chuckles, only slightly reassuring you, “I guess I–” he contemplates, choosing his words carefully, “I just haven’t met anyone I want to marry yet,” the only thing giving you solace is the knowledge that he probably deals with children asking him much, much more embarrassing questions, all day long.

“Oh,” Abbey says, doing some of her own contemplation, “that’s okay, Mr. H,” she comforts, like a little therapist, patting his back twice before refocusing her attention back on her milkshake.

You send Steve a look across the table, trying your hardest to convey ‘I’m so sorry my child says the shit she says, forgive me?’ with just your expression. He seems to understand what you’re attempting to get across, because he simply shakes his head and smiles like he’s trying to tell you ‘I spend everyday with her, I get it. Don’t worry about it.’

You spend the next half hour or so swapping your funniest workplace stories with each other.

“So then, we’re in the middle of a quiz right? This kid, he just–” he motions with his hands near his mouth, “projectile vomits all over the desk and the kid sitting in front of him,”

“Oh…” you wince with second-hand disgust, “that’s brutal,”

“I know!” he laughs, “I literally had to evacuate the entire classroom,”

“I feel like I remember Abbey telling me about that, actually,”

At the mention of her, he glances to his side, “Speaking of,” he chuckles.

You follow his eyes to find Abbey slumped over into Steve’s side– completely dead to the world. You can tell she’s asleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.

Steve carefully fishes a twenty dollar bill out of his jeans pocket– careful not to disturb her– and places it on the table underneath a sweaty glass that at one point contained a diet coke.

“Oh, no you don’t have to–” you say, reaching for the bill when he delicately grabs your wrist to stop you from trying to shove it back towards him. His palms are much softer than you anticipated, and the sudden movement of his arm sends a wave of his scent straight up your nose– nearly suffocating you. What a lovely way to go, you think.

“Hey, it’s okay. I want to,” he reassures you as he pushes your hand he’s still holding back in your direction. You oblige him, only because you don’t have the energy for a chivalry competition. You make a promise to yourself that if you’re ever fortunate enough to do this with him again, that you’ll foot the bill.

When you try to gently shake Abbey awake, he stops you again, “I got it,” he says, as he hoists Abbey up and carries her bridal style out of the diner and to your little sedan; you wish the waitress a good night as you exit. It’s a dark night outside, no moon or stars to be observed. The navy velvet of the sky is completely blanketed by heavy clouds. It’ll probably snow soon.

You open the rear passenger side door for Steve as he sets Abbey in her seat and fumbles a little bit with the seat belt mechanism. As he’s ducking back out, he rises just a second too early and rams his head on the top of the car with a harsh ‘THWACK!’  You try to stifle a surprised laugh behind the back of your hand as he groans and shuts the door as softly as he can.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” You take a step closer to him as he scratches at the back of his usually perfectly coiffed locks, having lost its usual volume.

“Don’t laugh!” He playfully scolds.

“You’re laughing!” you quickly retort.

“Because you’re laughing!”

Once you’ve calmed a bit– reduced to just quiet giggling– you ask, “Can I look?” With that, he turns to give you a better look at the back of his head.

From this angle, you can unabashedly blush and grin at him and not have to worry about him seeing you. You relish in it for as long as possible, as well as the excuse to touch him, even for a moment.

“How do I look, doc? Am I gonna make it?” He says with a faux grim tone to his voice.

“Well, I’m just the receptionist– but you’re not bleeding, no cracks or contusions, either. I think you’ll be alright,”

You grin when he turns back around to face you again, this time with less space separating you, accounting for how closely you were inspecting his head. You stay like that for a moment too long, giving you just enough time to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose like constellations lacking in the sky above you, and how his lashes kiss at the corner of his eyes.

He harshly clears his throat– a nervous habit, you’ve noticed– and looks down at the pavement where you stand, inches from each other.

“I’d better let you get her home, it’s getting late,”

“No yeah– definitely uhm…” you struggle to find your words again, “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” he smiles fondly, “Oh, I uh– I wanted to give you this,” from out of his coat pocket, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you. It must’ve been in his pocket for at least a few hours, maybe even a few days– the ink smudged like he’d been nervously fidgeting with it before he gave it to you.

It was his phone number.

“You know, in case you ever–” he clears his throat again, “in case you ever need anything, or there’s an emergency, or something…” he trails off at the end of his thought like he’s completely regretting the gesture and already trying to figure out a way to back track, but before he can get the chance, you embrace him in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, slightly muffled by the hood of his coat, “I really appreciate everything you do for Abbey,”

He doesn’t mention how he gave the number of his landline to you in case you ever needed anything, he just takes the win for what it is. You have his phone number, and you’re hugging him. The perfect floral scent of your shampoo and whatever perfume you’re wearing flood his senses, and he immediately misses your touch when you pull away.

“Mommy?” Abbey croaks tiredly from the backseat, “Are we going home?”

“Yes, baby, one second,” you smile apologetically at Steve for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, “I’m gonna get her to bed.”

“Of course, go,” he says as he ushers you around to the driver's side door. As much as he craves to, he doesn’t open it for you. Maybe another time, he thinks.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say before you pull the door closed.

“Goodnight, drive safe,” he aims his sights for the backseat, “Goodnight, Ab. You did awesome today,”

“Bye, Mr. H,” she waves, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion of being everyone’s favorite five-year-old all day.

Steve waits until you’ve pulled out of the parking lot, hands shoved tightly into his jeans pockets, before walking to his own car across the parking lot.

–

About halfway home and in between bouts of nodding off, Abbey asks quietly from the backseat, “Can Mr. H be like daddy?”

Startled and slightly confused by the nature of her question, you lock eyes with her through the rearview mirror, “What?”

Even though you fully heard her the first time, she reiterates, “I mean like, because we don’t have a daddy anymore,” she pauses– thinking, “maybe he could come live with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. It doesn’t always work like that, you know?” It breaks your heart to break hers.

“But–” she pouts in that adorable way that she does when she’s trying to lure you into giving her something she wants. Though this time, you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “He said he doesn’t have a wife!”

You can tell she’s too tired to have a productive discussion about this, and frankly– you have not a single idea of how to approach this subject, “Tell you what– how about we talk about it tomorrow when you wake up, yeah?” You try to reason, but secretly hoping she’s too drowsy to remember this conversation in the morning.

Mid-yawn she responds, “Okay…” clearly losing her battle with the hypnotic hum of the engine lulling her softly back to sleep.

–

At well past eleven o’clock, you find yourself sinking into the cushions of your thrifted sofa, staring at the faded piece of paper with Steve’s phone number scrawled on it so hard you thought it might burst into flames and disintegrate.

The drone of black and white reruns playing on the television was your only reprieve from the rushing spiral of your rumination, as you fought the urge to call Steve and ask what counted as ‘an emergency or…something.’

You wondered, against your better judgement, what you’d be interrupting if you gave into your temptation. You wonder if he, too, is lying restless somewhere in his house just like you were– if he has someone there to keep him company, and maybe you’d gotten this all wrong. You wonder if his walls are filled to the brim with photos of his life before Maine, and what brought him here in the first place. You wonder if he sleeps with the fan on or off.

You wonder if you should even be feeling this way at all.

But somewhere, in a mostly empty house on Ashburton street, Steve is staring at the white expanse of his popcorn ceiling of his bedroom pondering identical thoughts about you.

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We stan!!!!

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STRANGE DARLING 2023 | Dir. J. T. Mollner

Dinner in America | Crush by Ethel Cain