✨😔✨

fuck it im hyperfixating any pronouns | 21

[karrasyne]

arthur morgan tiddies and tummy thats all im gonna say

[vanderlesbian]

dating simon riley means constant clinginess. large arms wrapped around your waist at any given moment, simon is most comfortable when he's holding you. after being away from a long mission, he'll find you wherever you are in your shared apartment and silently crawl into your arms like a puppy. he'll bury his face into the crook of your neck, slowly inhaling to bask in your scent that he missed more than anything. with an amused chuckle, you'll wrap your arms around his warm torso, gently rubbing his back. "no hello?" you'll tease, to which you always earn a content hum in response, along with simon's hold tightening ever so slightly.

dating simon riley means lots of playful teasing. if you make a typo in a text message, he'll begin spelling the word as your typo for the rest of the day. if you believed in a silly fact, he'd bring it up for the rest of your life. "this is like when you thought our blood was actually blue" he'd snicker, which would cause you to whine for him to stop and swat his arm.

dating simon riley means constantly being cared for. simon is a man who can do everything, or at least tries to. he somehow manages to get to all the chores before you do, which has ended in you reassuring him that you can handle it many, many times. when doing something potentially dangerous like standing on a ladder, handling a knife or using tools, simon will constantly glance in your direction to make sure something won't slip and injure you. like a spidey sense, he's quick to pull you away or come to your rescue if you're in a situation where you're about to hurt yourself. "you alright?" he'll mumble softly, dark eyes laced with worry that is a rare sight to be seen by anyone else.

dating simon riley means you have a second wardrobe. his large clothes are just too comfortable to resist, and he's often left searching the apartment for a shirt that you had placed amongst your own clothes. though, he makes no effort to steal them back from you, as seeing you in his tshirt, his boxers and his hoodie fills him with a loving possessiveness. he'll walk into the kitchen to see you turned away as you wash dishes, wearing one of his shirts as a short dress. managing to silently sneak behind you even with his bulky frame, he'll wrap his arms around you from behind and place a kiss against the nape of your neck. "you look so pretty in my shirt, love." he'll then purr into your ear.

dating simon riley means seeing a side of him that many never do. whether it be physically or personality wise, you see so much of simon that you can't remember the last time you referred to him as ghost. his large pointy nose, his dirty blonde hair that he always forgets to fix in the mornings, and his lopsided smile that appears when you tell the corniest of jokes are all things that many have never seen and never will. he speaks so softly to you; a low tone that you can feel reverberating in his chest when you lay against him. simon is kind, patient and vulnerable with you, and will mutter the words "i love you" against your lips, just loud enough for only you to hear.

dating simon riley means being friends with the rest of the 141. you were the one who wished to host hangouts at your apartment, wanting those closest to simon to like you. despite their intimidating demeanors, you quickly realized just how kind they were. they know just how important you are to simon, which is a rare feat in itself, so they would never treat you in an ill manner. soap will always refer to you as "the missus" when speaking to simon, which never fails to make you giggle when you overhear their conversations.

masterlist

[temeyes]

biker ghost? biker ghost.

[alkern]

fem!Keegan...

[the-gentlemans-pirate]

honey bear. sugar pie.

[harpsinfinity]

IMAGINE THIS BITCH FUCKING YOU WITH THAT FUCKING FLUFFY JACKET !!

Imagine wearing his jacket while he's fucking you nice and deep, the jacket practically smothering you, covered in the scent of his colonge (or natural scent) that's still lingering. Possibly the scent of cigarettes too (not a smoker but yummy yummy) His eyes looking into yours, watching them roll back in overwhelming bliss as the head of his fat cock slams into that gooey little spot inside of you over and over again. Your legs are wrapped around his waist with your nails digging into his back and your absolutely LOVING it (bro me too) His head is buried in the crook of your neck as he whispers sweet nothings meant for your ears only, planting hot kisses along your neck and your jaw, telling how beautiful you look wearing his jacket while you take him so well. Hours later your shaking and quivering from the overstimulation, completely cockdrunk

"C'mon lovie, just one more please"

Currently suffering from brainrot because of this man

[konigs-left-pec]

PostMission!Ghost is hard the second his feet hit the tarmac, brain swimming in a potent cocktail of adrenaline and testosterone from the fight. He follows you to the hangar with the rest of the team, throat tight and dry as he can't seem to stop staring, hypnotized by your ass and the sway of your hips.

He is practically on said ass the second you head into the unisex bathroom; locking the door and crowding you against the sink. He's still fully geared, can't even pull his tac pants down fast enough, catching on his holsters. You'd laugh at the absurdity of it if you weren't burning with the same desire that's taken him. He just barely gets free enough to let his cock out, hard enough to cut glass at this point. You aren't ready, but you don't care. The stretch burns, your hands fluttering helplessly on his shoulders as you're speared on his enormous length. His head is bowed, resting on your shoulder as he gasps brokenly into your ear like every thrust is agony.

Just like that...s'fuckin good f'me...

He's winding you up; the hunger in your belly coiling tighter and tighter with the way he's effectively biting at your neck, gloved hands clutching and pushing at your hips and ass demanding you meet his brutal pace. He's sucking in air through clenched teeth, praise pouring out past parted lips as his thrusts turn somehow even more erratic. He always comes hard and fast like this. You'd be upset if he didn't feel so damn good.

You're so close when he comes on a strangled groan, hips stuttering to a halt as he grinds into you as deeply as he can manage. He's panting while his head clears, cock still hard and flexing against that spot deep within you. Ghost fixes you with a boyish smile, brown eyes glazed over and warm like the flush coloring his cheeks as your eyes meet.

m'sorry, love. I couldn't help it.

The gloved hand not currently propping you against the sink presses suddenly against your lips, a coy invitation to bite. His smirk widened imperceptibly as he worked his hand free, sliding down between your bodies with practiced ease to circle your aching clit. He has you gasping wantonly into his mouth in record time, fingers clenched tight against his flak vest as your orgasm swells up like a tidal wave to decimate you, all while he's purring huskily into your ear with each sweet pulse...

Good girl.

[agentjackdaniels]

I spotted a Pedro in Lux’s Insta Stories!

[broodchild]

i really have to thank the tumblr authors who write about simon ghost riley. i love you. true heros. the people need you.

[blanchebees]

As promised, some new and old Simons

Tip jar

[z-nth]

matching ^___^

first time drawing könig!! i thought his mask would make it easier to draw but it. did not.

[cavillscurls]

i wanna sit on it

[simoondraws]

— Should I share with you?

[projectionistwrites]

REMINISCENCE

boston!Joel Miller x afab!reader

You and Joel discuss the things you miss most about life before the outbreak.

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ mdni) WARNINGS: age gap, canon-typical violence, alcohol consumption, SMUT (pornography, unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, mentions of masturbation) NOTES: this was meant to be a short little drabble, and then it sort of morphed into...whatever this is.

Joel didn’t gain much from his relationship from you—in terms of equity theory, the costs slightly outweighed the rewards when it came to your unorthodox companionship.

But nonetheless, he walked you home from work every single night without fail.

You were a bartender at the local undercover pub—operating (presumably) right beneath FEDRA’s noses, although it was a well-known fact that some of the officers chose to unwind in the forbidden sanctuary that the underground enclave offered.

Free booze. That was Joel’s price. It seemed silly, really—he’d brood silently at the far end of the bar all evening after he’d finished his menial jobs around the city or smuggling-related tasks, watching you smile and interact with the other patrons. He was sacrificing valuable twilight hours by sitting there, waiting for the minutes to roll by until it finally hit 2AM.

Every night as he sat there, listening to your friendly conversations with the other customers, Joel could do nothing but reprimand himself—he was being a fucking idiot, stewing off to the side all night on his lonesome, wasting precious minutes that would better be spent on more labor or catching up on his sleep. This is the last time, he’d tell himself. Get a fucking grip.

But then your gaze would flutter over to him from halfway across the bar, your lips curling up in a delicate smile as your eyes glittered, and his mind went to static. You didn’t look at any of the other patrons that way—all these men pining for your attention, and your eyes only seemed to catch on Joel.

You had to exchange pleasantries with the other customers—had to flirt and smile and giggle in order to earn your keep. But that didn’t stop your attention from constantly straying to the man in the corner, whose dark eyes never left your form as you mixed and served drinks.

Excitement always bubbled in your chest when you heard the telltale clink of his glass hitting the counter, signaling that he’d finished his drink and needed another. It was a momentary escape, a brief but welcomed reprieve from the exaggerated, inauthentic friendly demeanor that you used to placate the crowd—you took your time topping off Joel’s glass, never serving him more than about two-fingers-width worth of liquor in hopes that he’d finish it quickly so you had an excuse to visit his end of the bar again. You never spoke to each other when you were on the clock—you had to give off the impression that you were available, you couldn’t play favorites. But still, you couldn’t help but drift towards him as you wiped down the countertop, looking for absolutely any opportunity to be near him.

But it was the nightly walk home that really kept him coming back.

You were sweet. Painfully so. Bright-eyed and naive and full of life. You made him smile—sometimes, you even made him laugh. He didn’t talk much, but you didn’t mind—you filled the silence between you with mindless chatter, complaining about your job and the difficult customers or sharing stories from your life before the outbreak. Joel could listen to you talk for hours—the dulcet cadence of your voice, the light breathy laughter that escaped your lips, the twinkle in your eye as you walked by his side.

It had started when a FEDRA soldier gave you a hard time about being out past curfew—roughed you up just enough to strike fear in your heart, your temperament at work the following night distraught as you dreaded the trek back to your dingy apartment.

Joel had already been a regular at that point. He was quiet, kept to himself, never shared more than a few brief words before his gaze drifted back down to glare into his liquor, his shoulders seeming burdened with more weight than any one man should be able to carry.

He didn’t give you the same attention that the other men did—maybe that’s why you were so drawn to him. While the other patrons shamelessly flirted with you, making obscene comments and proposals in an attempt to gain your affections, Joel just treated you like a person. Maybe it was that Southern hospitality that you inferred from his Texan drawl, or maybe it was something else. But nonetheless, the mysterious bargoer was the first person to notice your change in demeanor.

“Y’alright?”

He’d asked as your trembling hands tilted the bottle of amber liquid to refill his empty crystal glass. Your eyes darted to his face at the question—it was the first time he’d ever gone out of his way to speak with you, never offering a word unless he was prompted.

You gulped, setting the bottle back down behind the counter with a slight clang. Your gaze nervously scanned over the crowded room, fearing that someone might catch you with your guard down. Luckily, the patrons all seemed to be wrapped up in their own conversations, so you allowed yourself to indulge Joel with an honest response. When you looked back at him, his dark brown eyes were already fixed on your face.

“FEDRA’s getting antsy. An officer stopped me on my way home, last night—confiscated my cards for being out past curfew, said the consequences'd be worse if it happened again.”

You’d admitted quietly, and Joel could see the fear that was crawling beneath your skin, threatening to claw through your flesh. His heavy brows furrowed.

“How far’s home?”

He asked, and you bristled, not particularly keen on the idea of sharing such personal information with someone who was practically a stranger.

He must’ve sensed his misstep and quickly backpedaled.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to—”

“It’s a few blocks west of here, by the outpost.”

You weren’t sure what had compelled you to share such intimate details with him, but clearly it had been the right call. He nodded carefully, lifting his new drink to his lips and taking a swig before he acknowledged you again.

“My place’s on the way. I can walk you home, if ya want.”

That was nearly six weeks ago—now, it had become routine. In exchange for his chivalry, you'd offered him a night of bottomless drinks—when he realized this could be an ongoing perk, you were quick to accept his continued companionship on your midnight commutes. FEDRA soldiers knew better than to confront him about violations of curfew, so you were safe from further disturbances when accompanied by his presence.

Tonight was no different. The crowd of drunk customers was beginning to thin out as you made the announcement for last call. When the last patron finally stumbled up the stairs and out of the bar, Joel watched your shoulders sag with resignation, relieved to be free from another grueling shift.

He downed the remnants of his third pour of whiskey and stood up, stretching his legs out for the first time in hours. He wordlessly slipped behind the counter beside you to rinse and clean his own glass in the sink, watching you slump against the counter out of his periphery.

“What a long fucking day.”

You grumbled, your voice losing the artificial peppiness that you struggled to maintain in front of your customers. Joel let out a breathy chuckle as he returned his cleaned glass to the correct shelf, turning towards you.

“Then let’s get you home, darlin’.”

He’d had a rough couple of days. The night before, you’d panicked when he failed to show up by midnight—he was rarely later than ten-thirty, and his absence was enough to send you into a worried spiral.

When he’d finally stumbled through the doors, there was dried blood beneath his fingernails and a bruise forming across his jaw. As soon as he saw the unfettered alarm in your gaze, he felt guilt consume him. You were worried about him.

He struggled to sit at his usual stool, grunting as pain flared in his ribs at the movement. You were in front of him in an instant, sliding a glass of whiskey and an ice pack wrapped in a towel across the bar to him.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

You’d challenged harshly, but your voice betrayed you—although you’d attempted to convey your anger, the anxiety in your wavery tone was indisputable. Joel’s gaze dropped as he reached for his glass.

“Trade went bad.”

He offered simply, cringing slightly at the burn of the liquor at the back of his throat. When his eyes found yours again, there were tears forming across your lower lashes, and he let out a long sigh. His fingers brushed over yours as he reached for the ice pack, gaze soft as he leaned a bit closer to you.

“M’alright, darlin’. Everythin’s okay.”

Still, you could tell he was on edge, even if he refused to admit it. So, the next evening, you stopped him right before you could part ways at the entrance to your building.

“I have a surprise for you.”

You wiggled your brows theatrically as you plopped your backpack down at your feet, leaning down to unzip it and reach into the main pouch. Joel forced his eyes away from where your cleavage exposed itself to him as you bent over.

When you straightened again, you were holding a glass bottle of amber liquid, a triumphant smile on your face as you held it out for him expectantly. His brows furrowed, but when he reached for the bottle and inspected the label, his brows shot up to his forehead.

“Macallan?”

He questioned in awe, his eyes wide as they flitted back to you. Your smile was dazzling as you beamed up at him, anxiously awaiting his approval as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“How the fuck did you swing this one?”

“Flashed my boss.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, and Joel immediately sputtered, eyes blowing wide. You just laughed at his obvious discomfort, reaching to rest a hand on his forearm in an attempt to change the subject.

“Oh, relax. I grabbed some nice glasses from the bar, too—why don’t you come up and have a drink with me? A nightcap on the roof.”

Joel hesitated. The two of you had gotten markedly closer in the weeks you’d known each other—you’d met Tess, and his brother Tommy, and he even trusted you enough to key you in on his illegal smuggling activities. But still, neither of you had ever interacted outside of the bar or your nightly walks home—this was uncharted territory.

Just as he was about to object, to deny your request and head back home, his eyes met your wide, hopeful gaze as you looked up at him so innocently. He let out a long breath through his nose before he finally nodded.

“Yeah, okay. Just one drink.”

That’s how Joel found himself here, sitting atop the concrete roof of your apartment complex, leaning back against the half-wall that corralled the stairs that led up from the top floor to the roof. You were splayed out to his left, taking careful sips of your liquor as the midnight breeze tickled your skin and left goosebumps in its wake.

The night was calm—or, at least, as calm as it could be in the Boston QZ. Distant gunshots interrupted the quiet, but neither you or Joel even flinched at the sound. Your arm was brushing against his from how close you sat together, and Joel was surprised to feel an uneasy sense of comfort wash over him as he relaxed in your company.

You drew in a slow breath before you tilted your head to gaze at him, a small smile gracing your features.

“What do you miss most about life before the outbreak?”

Joel’s entire body stiffened at your question—it was an unspoken rule between the two of you. Joel didn’t talk about his past, and you didn’t pry.

You quickly backpedaled, laughing sheepishly.

“I don’t mean who do you miss or shit like that, just—the mundane things. Things we took for granted. I miss the drive-in movie theater. Tonight would be the perfect weather to go see a show.”

Joel felt his lip twitch up at the corner on its own volition, your eyes fixed up at the night sky as your tone turned nostalgic. He took another sip of his whiskey, the taste deep and rich and smooth.

“I miss good liquor.”

He offered lazily, and you elbowed him lightly in the side.

“Hey, that doesn’t count. I got you good liquor. Sure, it cost me my dignity, but it was worth it.”

Joel laughed, then—a deep, genuine chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you.

“You really did that? Lifted up your shirt for your boss just to get your hands on the good stuff?”

You nodded cheekily, a mischievous gleam in your eyes as you grinned wickedly up at him. He chuckled again.

“Thought you were a good girl.”

He muttered, more to himself than anything, and you felt your face flood with heat at his grumbled statement. You ignored the way his words made something stir between your legs and nudged him again.

“Come on, I’m serious. What else do you miss?”

He pondered for a moment, tilting his head back to rest against the concrete behind him. There were a lot of simple things he missed about the past.

“Miss barbecues.”

He offered, and you seemed pleased with that response, letting out a giddy squeal as you agreed enthusiastically.

The conversation continued on easily for a long while—reminiscing about your previous lives, offering suggestions back-and-forth. Hot showers. Chapstick. Birthday cards. Summer block parties. Board games. Holidays. The smell of clean laundry. Road trips. Celebrity gossip.

Half the bottle of liquor was gone when you became too emboldened.

“I miss porn.”

You heard Joel choke on his drink as he coughed, lifting a hand to cover his mouth as he attempted to swallow down his shock. Your cheeks flooded with heat at your own confession, surprised at your own brazenness as the man beside you shifted uncomfortably.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—that was kind of out of the blue. I’m sorry.”

Joel shook his head, although he averted his eyes from you.

“No, s’alright, just—wasn’t expectin’ that.”

Joel tried to hide his surprise. He wasn’t uncomfortable—just the opposite, actually. He was dumbfounded—you? Watching porn? Surely not. Not sweet, naive, innocent you.

He could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you as you looked down sheepishly, obviously regretting your admittance. It was shocking—the woman who flirted with all her patrons, who made a show of seducing each man she served, blushing relentlessly at the mere mention of something lewd.

You stared down at where your hands were folded in your lap, fingers fiddling together anxiously as you tried to think of something to say that would salvage the conversation. To your surprise, Joel beat you to the punch.

“I guess I didn’t realize... I mean, how old even were you when everythin’ happened?”

Neither of you were oblivious to the clear age gap between the two of you, but still, his question somewhat offended you. You scoffed slightly.

“I was twenty. I wasn’t a kid.”

Joel lifted his hands up in surrender.

“No, no, ’m not sayin’ that you were, I just—guess I didn’t expect you to—”

“—to have watched porn?”

You finished for him, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed thickly. He nodded, and you let out a breathy laugh, turning your gaze back to the hazy night sky.

“I had an older brother. Snuck into his room one time when I was, like, sixteen, and found some raunchy tapes under his bed that he rented from Family Video. Some stupid adult films.”

You explained, your embarrassment somewhat dampened by the alcohol surging through your bloodstream.

“It was funny. There was this one video that I really liked, so I kept it, and then my parents got this huge bill from the store because my brother didn't return it on time. What a fuckin’ idiot, renting porn using my mom’s credit card.”

You giggled at the memory, looking back fondly on your time with your family. You had moved to Boston for college when the outbreak happened, and you never did find out what happened to them when everything fell apart.

Joel’s voice broke you from your stupor.

“D’they ever find out it was you?”

You laughed again.

“Nope. It’s probably still under the mattress in my childhood bedroom. Watched that thing too many times to count.”

An easy silence fell over you, and you took in a few deep breaths of crisp night air, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned backward against the wall.

“It’s your turn.”

You prompted Joel, reminding him that he was up next to share something he missed from his past.

“What was it?”

He asked instead, and you blinked your eyes open, turning your neck to face him only to find his gaze already on you. Your brows furrowed.

“What was what?”

You asked for clarification, and you saw his jaw tick slightly.

“The video that you kept. What was it?”

You felt your lips part in surprise as your breathing stalled, face flushing crimson at his question.

“You—I mean—”

“M’just curious.”

He shrugged indifferently, facing forward again, but your heart was still hammering against your ribcage.

“If you liked it enough to keep it, must’a been good."

You swallowed, eyes falling to your hands once again before you finally responded.

“Honestly, I don’t even remember the plot. The guy in it, he was just—he was loud. He talked a lot, and the sound of his voice really did something to me.”

You offered sheepishly, voice faint and breathy as you recounted the film. Joel hummed in response, seemingly unbothered by the explicit content of the conversation, but you would be lying if you said that discussing sex with Joel didn't make your pulse jump.

“I didn’t even need to really watch it. Sometimes I’d sit with my back to the TV and just listen, and—well, you know.”

Joel felt his already hardening cock twitch in the confines of his jeans as he imagined you with your legs spread wide, hand shoved hastily into your pants as you played with yourself, eyes closed as you listened to the porno guiding your movements.

“What was it about his voice? Somethin’ special?”

“I don’t remember.”

You answered a bit too quickly, your response jumbled and rushed. Joel immediately noticed, his eyes landing on your face to see your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you refused to look at him, clearly embarrassed. He didn’t push it, even if he knew you were lying.

Again, another long bout of silence, the air between you thickening with tension, although something had shifted. The awkwardness in the space was wavering, replaced with something heavier, something deeper.

“I miss sex.”

You thought your neck was going to break from how quickly your head jerked to gawk at Joel, who had muttered the sentence so coolly that you were almost certain you had misheard. He didn’t look at you—kept his eyes straight forward, focused on some point off in the distance. Your fingers curled into the flesh of your thighs, trying to fight off the budding desire that was tingling lowly between your legs.

“You—but you have Tess, right?”

Your voice sounded small, meek, and Joel huffed out an indignant laugh, shaking his head somewhat ruefully.

“No. S’not like that. We’re just—partners. Keep the bed warm for each other. Nothin’ else.”

Oh.

That caught you off guard. You’d assumed the pair had been a couple, or at the very least fuckbuddies, but Joel’s confession caused butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach.

“What about you?”

He pressed, and you felt your lungs collapse as you struggled to breath, his dark gaze pinning you down.

“Me?”

He chuckled somewhat condescendingly, his lip pulled up at the corner.

“Yeah. You miss sex?”

Your eyes darted away from his face, swallowing harshly.

“I don’t know. Only happened a few times, with my high school boyfriend back home. Wasn’t anything great.”

You explained, and Joel hummed, relishing in the way your voice wavered and your eyes darted around nervously, lashes fluttering.

“He ever give you an orgasm?”

Joel’s casualness startled you, his language so lewd and crass that you did a double take. Your cheeks burned even brighter as you pressed your hands to your face, shielding yourself from his judgmental stare.

“No. Always had to finish myself off.”

You finally admitted, trying to ignore the way you could feel Joel's body heat radiating from beside you. "And lately, too, it’s been—it sucks. Getting off, I mean. My brain is always somewhere else. That’s part of the reason I miss porn, I guess. It’s hard to take your mind out of all of this. I can never focus long enough to actually...”

“Cum?”

Joel's voice was low as he finished your sentence, and you nodded breathlessly, somewhat bashful at your admittance.

“Yeah. And skin mags don’t help, either. It always helped when I could hear it, y’know? More than just watch. It helped me stay in the moment, I guess. More immersive.”

You shrugged, and you could feel his dark eyes boring into you as you looked down.

“You’ve got a line of men a mile long who’d jump at the chance to be with you, darlin’. You got the choice of any guy in that entire bar.”

“Not any guy.”

You corrected before you could realize your mistake. You felt Joel’s body stiffen beside you, and you outwardly grimaced, quickly catching on to the fact that you’d basically just outright confessed your feelings for the man beside you—the one man in the entire QZ who seemed completely uninterested in you.

“You were lyin’ earlier.”

You blinked away your confusion as your eyes flitted to his face—he was watching you carefully, his hands resting on his jean-clad thighs as he regarded you, his eyes dark and somewhat daunting. You swallowed.

“’bout not rememberin’ why you liked that guy’s voice so much. You can’t say you watched that porno more times than you n’count and then not remember why.”

Your eyes darted away, but then you felt warm, calloused fingers slip beneath your chin and coax your head back towards him, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He was leaning in closer to you now, close enough that you could smell the sting of booze on his breath and see the spatter of freckles that spilled across his nose.

“So tell me, darlin’. Why'd you like the way he talked so much?”

Joel knew the answer. He’d noticed the way your eyes always settled on his lips when he spoke, how you always turned bashful when his Texas charm bled through into his words.

“I—it was—it was called The Bone Ranger. Y’know, like—like the kitschy old Western show. The guy, he was—he was a cowboy.”

“So then what accent did he have, huh, sweet thing?”

You resisted the urge to squeeze your eyes shut in shame, clenching your jaw harshly as you opened your mouth. You could tell he already knew the answer—must’ve had a sneaking suspicion from the start, especially when he factored in the way you always seemed to swoon when he called you darlin’.

“I—he had a Southern accent.”

The satisfied smirk that curled on Joel’s lips made your blood boil, humiliation making your cheeks warm even hotter as your face contorted into a look of discomfort, feeling shameful and dirty.

But Joel smiled at you. Really smiled. It was somewhat wicked—a devilish sort of grin, one that awoke something deep within your core. His eyes were wild, darkened with something almost feral.

“Yeah, I bet he did. Do I remind you of him, darlin’? You like the way I talk?”

His voice dropped to a low timbre, barely more than a throaty growl, his Texan drawl exacerbated by the lust that coated his tongue. You couldn’t help but whimper at his teasing, your gaze instinctually falling from his eyes to glance at his lips.

“Bet I can make sure you stay in the moment. Help you focus. Make you cum.”

The squeak that passed through your lips was almost inhuman, and for a moment, you didn’t even realize that it was you who had made the sound. But then Joel was smirking at you again, and in an instant you were on him, fingers skating across his shoulders as your lunged to kiss him.

He met you with equal fervor, shifting slightly to pull you atop his lap, your legs sliding to cage in his waist as your fingers threaded into his graying hair. His hands pressed into you, burning your skin with each move as he grabbed at your waist, hips, thighs, ass, anything within his reach as he licked into your mouth, pressing you as close to him as physically possible.

“Oh, God—please, Joel.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you were even begging for, but when Joel pulled away long enough to glance at you through hooded eyes, gaze swimming with intoxication from both desire and alcohol, it was like he could read your mind.

“ ’ve got you, darlin’. Let me take care a’you.”

Joel lifted up his knees, allowing you to lean back slightly against his muscular thighs as you grinded your core against the sizable bulge in his worn jeans. With your weight leaned backwards, Joel matched your pace with slow, deep grinds of his hips, his cock pressing against your clit as he rutted upwards.

“Mmm.”

Joel hummed, experienced hands spread against the expanse of your back as he guided you forward for another searing kiss, swallowing the whine that passed through your lips. You squirmed when his fingers began to explore, skimming across your sides before his thumbs swept just beneath the swell of each of your breasts. Your chest immediately pushed into his hold, making him chuckle.

“Take it off for me, then. Lemme see you.”

In a matter of seconds, you were ripping the heather gray shirt from your body, tossing it carelessly to the side and letting your head fall back with a soft sigh. You squeezed your eyes shut tight so you didn’t have to see Joel’s face when he finally looked at you, but he caught on to this action quickly.

His left head reached to cup the back of your head and force it to face forward, your eyes fluttering open to meet his—his pupils were blown wide, gleaming devilishly as he slowly let his gaze draw a line down your sternum and across your newly exposed breasts. A growl rumbled in his chest.

“Filthy little thing, aren’t ya? No bra, wanted everyone in the bar to see those pretty little nipples through that thin shirt?”

There was a sort of anger laced in his words, his brows lowered as his thumbs brushed across both of your nipples with a featherlight touch, both of the nubs peaking instantaneously.

Part of you wanted to shake your head, to prove to him what a good girl you are, but instead, you let out a breathy giggle.

“I told you I flashed my tits for the boss—had to get the right liquor to convince you to come up here.”

Joel's eyes narrowed, and you hummed when he shifted one of his hands came to wrap around your delicate throat.

“You wanted me to come up here to fuck you, huh? S’that it? Sweet thing, all you had to do was say please.”

Your fingers curled into his t-shirt as you pulled him towards you, pressing your lips to him again. His teeth sank into the flesh of your lower lip, sucking it gently. He pulled away just long enough to discard his own shirt, his weathered skin hot against your abdomen.

“He didn’t deserve to see you—didn’t appreciate these pretty tits, did he?”

His lips traced a sloppy line down your throat before wrapping around your right nipple, rolling it between his teeth. You cried out, your arousal beginning to soak a wet patch straight through your jeans, skin prickling with electricity.

His other large hand kneaded the flesh of you left breast as he ravished the right one with his tongue, your back arching into his hold.

“God, fuck—need you so bad, Joel, please.”

A dark chuckle vibrated over your skin, causing you to shiver. He stared up at you through his lashes, pulling his mouth away a leaving your skin shining with his saliva.

“Yeah? You wan’ me t’fuck you, darlin’? Wan’ me to stretch ya out over my cock?”

His voice was gravelly and low, words slightly slurred through his thickening accent.

“I’m ready for you, please, please—always been ready for you—”

He shushed you quietly, straightening his legs and flipping you over gently to lay you on your back. You nearly blacked out as you felt him peel the denim from your legs, your panties with them. You stared straight up at the night sky, stars twinkling as you listening to the clink of his belt and slide of his zipper before he was on top of you, his cock nestling against your lower stomach as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Yeah, gonna give it to you good, darlin’—you just lay there and take it.”

He lifted himself off of you just enough to guide his cock through your slick folds, the smooth head tapping against your clit before sliding down to your entrance.

“Sweet, innocent little girl, thinkin’ about me fuckin’ ’er every night in the bar.”

You squirmed at his taunting, cheeks ablaze.

He let out a breathy groan.

“Fuck yeah.”

He muttered lowly, slipping just the tip through your quivering hole. Almost immediately, you were clenching around him, your body tense and resisting the intrusion. He tutted at you, and you felt tears of both shame and desire flood your eyes.

“S’okay, sweet thing.”

He cooed, his demeanor suddenly softer, comforting.

“Gotta relax. ’ve got you. Jus’ focus on the sound of my voice.”

Your bleary eyes zeroed in on his face, the slight curl of his lip upwards as he sank a few more inches of his thick cock into you, burning with the stretch. You hadn’t had someone inside you in so long, and never anyone as big as him.

“Shh, shh—doin’ so good for me, darlin’. Fuck, tha’s a tight little cunt. You can take it.”

A pained groan blew through your lips as he proceeded forward, your walls squeezing around him until he was finally fully seated inside of you. A long, drawn-out groan escaped his throat as he pressed himself against you, his heavy balls nestled against your ass.

“Yeah, that’s it—you feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

You gasped when Joel reached between you and pressed a hand against your lower abdomen, feeling the bulge of his girth stretching you open.

“Fuck, yes—”

As soon as your cunt fluttered around him, finally accommodating his length, he offered a few shallow thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix with each movement. You mewled against him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Yeah, there we go—”

Finally, Joel began to fuck you. He pulled out almost entirely before forcing his entire length back into your awaiting channel, your wetness leaking around his cock and dripping down your crack onto the concrete beneath you. The cement scratched at your bare back, but you couldn’t even feel it—Joel’s fat cock overwhelmed all of your sense and left you a drooling, crying mess.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, darlin’—so fuckin’ tight aroun’ me. Always wanted to ruin you, y’know that? Knew you’d make the prettiest little sounds, knew you’d—fuck, knew you’d squeeze me so tight.”

Each of his quickening thrusts was punctuated by a high pitched moan from your lips, your tits bouncing with each motion. His fingers began to messily circle your clit as your eyes rolled back, surrendering yourself to Joel’s control and the impending orgasm that was building within you. He pressed his lips to your ear, groaning against you.

“Yeah, gonna make you cum, darlin’—fillin’ you so good, fuckin’ you nice and deep—jus’ like you wanted, jus’ like you deserve, yeah? Fuck, oh, baby—mmm—not gonna let anyone touch you again, not gonna—not gonna let anyone look at you again—pussy’s too fuckin’ good, s’all mine, s’all—fuckin’—mine—”

You let out a shriek as your climax peaked, Joel’s dirty tongue sending you over the edge as your walls clenched around him. Your vision turned white as your toes curled, your nails sinking into the meat of his shoulders as he continued to pound into you through your orgasm, sweat beading at his hairline.

“Oh, fuckkk—yeah, yeah, jus’ like that—keep squeezin’ me like that and I’m gonna—”

His pace turned frantic, his thrusts so harsh they were almost painful as he reached the deepest part of you, prolonging your orgasm and making heat coil in your core.

“Give it to me, Joel.”

It was barely a whisper, your throat hoarse and utterly wrecked, but Joel's body tensed above you.

“Yeah, gonna—gonna give you this fat fuckin’ load, baby—mm, mm, gonna—gonna cum inside you, fill you up so full—ah, fuck, m’gonna cum, m’gonna—”

His words were interrupted by an involuntary growl as he thrusted once, twice more, before seating himself fully inside of you.

“Oh, m’cummin’ baby, fuckin’—shit—”

He exploded within your walls, his white hot seed filling you in sporadic spurts, each one punctuated by a roll of his hips into you, a mixture of both your arousals creating a stickiness around his cock.

He rolled off of you almost immediately after, bare back against the cool concrete. Another series of gunshots rang out in the distance—all you could hear was Joel’s breathing.

Silence permeated the twilight air, and you felt your chest tighten with each passing second. He was staring straight up at the sky, unwavering, brows furrowed in thought.

“I didn’t get the whiskey just so you would—you know...”

The moment you started talking, you regretted it, trailing off slowly and averting your gaze from him when his neck turned to look at you. You sheepishly sat up, reaching for your t-shirt and holding it to your chest protectively.

“It was more of a—more of a thank you, really, for—for making sure I get home safe.”

Joel nodded slowly, his lips pursed slightly—already, you could see the ghost of regret dancing behind his eyes.

Again, the night was quiet as you both got dressed, the only sound from the rustling of clothes and the clink of Joel's belt. Part of you was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events—the other part of you was ashamed and embarrassed and horrified.

“Thanks.”

You whispered in acknowledgement, and he nodded curtly.

“Glad we could help each other out.”

It was like he’d just finished with a business deal—a transaction.

When you were both fully clothed, you wordlessly began descending the stairs, Joel trailing behind as he walked you to the front door of your apartment. It was the second door to the left on the fourth floor.

As the door swung open, you paused in the threshold. You contemplated your words for a moment before sighing.

“You know what else I miss?”

Joel’s big brown eyes turned soft once again as they locked with your glassy gaze.

“I miss flirting. And dating, and—and holding hands, and romance—”

You blew out a breath, infuriated with yourself—because of the tears trailing down your cheeks, because you gave yourself up so quickly, so easily, and all it took was a man with nice hands and brown eyes and a Texas drawl that sort of resembled a porno—

You almost flinched when you felt his left hand reach up the cradle your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle and completely out-of-character. You felt the pad of his thumb swipe the tears from beneath your eyes as he leaned in—

And then something hardened in his gaze—like he was remembering himself, pulled from a stupor. A shadow crested his features as his expression turned stony.

His arm dropped back to his side, and he took a step back, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded you one last time.

“See ya tomorrow.”

His heavy boots grew quieter as he walked the length of the hall, and you finally let the door click shut between you.

The truth hurt—all the things you missed, you took for granted, gone and left behind in a time forgotten.

Really, though, what you missed most of all, was love.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

You're My Home

Summary: You and Javi have both had one of those weeks where no matter how hard you try, nothing seems to go right. It only takes so long before something stupid makes the both of you snap. When Javi confesses to you what's been putting him on edge, you find a way to make it up to each other.

Word Count: 4.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap), vaginal fingering, creampie, angst, PTSD (poor Javi has a panic attack but you help him through it), hurt/comfort, makeup sex (!!!!), bad communication but apologizing/forgiving each other, mentions of food/eating, fluff fluff fluff bc you two are so in love with each other it hurts

This can be read as a stand alone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

A/N: I don't know what's been in the water that has me so compelled to make something angsty, but here we are!! Once I started writing this I quite literally could not stop, and it turned out to be one of the most intimate things I have ever written 😭🥺 I love these two sm

It had been a week. 

A long fucking week. 

One of those weeks where it felt like no matter how hard you tried, everything just felt… off. You had just started volunteering to run the Alma Pierce Elementary School drama club, which had you staying an extra hour and a half after school every Monday and Wednesday, on top of preparing for Parent-Teacher Conferences next week. You loved your group of students this year, but holy shit, were they chatty, and the past few days you felt like you might as well have put a cardboard cutout of yourself at the front of the room and left, because your class had absolutely zero interest in paying attention to you. To top it off, you could tell that Javi was having a bad week too. You hadn’t seen much of each other the past few days, with you working late and prepping for conferences, and Javi working on a new project the department had dropped in his lap without notice. Even though you lived in the same apartment, you had felt like strangers this week. Sure, you’d had off days before, but the two of you were always open and honest with each other, seeking comfort and safety in the other's presence, knowing that you were both there for one another, through good times, and bad. 

But this week was not like those “off” days. Something about it had felt tense, cold, even. You hated it. You hated every second of it. The two of you were never like this. Javi was your best friend, yet somehow, sitting in the same room, you still felt a million miles apart. Every interaction that you’d had left a worse taste in your mouth than the last- snapping at each other over stupid things like unclosed containers in the fridge or leaving towels on the bathroom floor. The worst was that Javi just could not seem to let things go, his presence feeling overbearing, almost bossy, with everything that you did. 

“You left the iron on while you were getting ready, you’re gonna burn down the fucking aparment.” 

“Double check the locks on the door, you forgot this morning.” 

“If you don’t fix the bath mat before you get in the shower, you’re gonna break your goddamn head open.” 

Even worse than that, when you tried to politely remind Javi about something, or do something helpful for him, he had been a complete asshole to you. 

“Yes, I can remember to clean it up after I’m done, I’m not fucking 8 years old.” 

“Jesus, I know we need more coffee creamer, you put it on the grocery list and reminded me twice.” 

“I can put away my own laundry, just let me do it.” 

It felt like he was breathing down your neck, the fly in your ear that just wouldn’t go away, and it made you want to scream. You had considered yourself to be a pretty patient person- working with kids, you had to be, but this week, Javier Peña seemed to be testing every ounce of patience you had left in your body, and you were about to run out.  

Your Friday night routine with Javi normally consisted of the 3 same things every week

Javi picking up pizza from place down the street on the way home from work

Eating the pizza and watching a movie 

Pausing said movie to have sex, finish watching the movie, and then fall asleep on the couch. 

On this particular Friday, you had a very strong suspicion that none of those 3 things would be happening tonight. When you came home, you practically collapsed from exhaustion the moment you got through the door. Dropping your bag and kicking off your shoes, you crawled your way to the couch, completely collapsing in its cushions, taking a few deep breaths to try and regain your composure from the hellish day it had been. You finally mustered up enough strength to get up and change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable before sulking around the apartment, making yourself finish chores that had seemed to go neglected all week. Javi was normally home a half hour after you, but as you looked up at the clock, he was 20 minutes later than usual. It wasn’t long before another hour had gone by, leaving you absolutely starving, unable to wait for the dinner Javi may or may not be bringing home. You scavenged through your fridge and pantry, pulling out sauce and spaghetti to make yourself pasta to at least tide you over. 

When Javi got home two hours past his normal arrival, you were shocked by the smell of pizza that filled your apartment as he walked through the door. You were even more shocked by the reaction he had to seeing the pot of noodles you had left out on the stove while you sat at the kitchen table to finish report cards to hand out at conferences. 

“Did you already fucking eat?” His tone was sharp and brash as he dropped the pizza box on the kitchen counter. 

“Well you’re home two hours later than normal, Javi. What was I supposed to do? Not eat? I’m more than capable of fending for myself if you’re not here with pizza.” You could feel pressure in your stomach rising, clenching your fists to try and hold in the last bit of patience you had. 

“That’s not the fucking point. You know I always get pizza for us on Friday, you know I’m bringing you dinner, I can’t help that things have been a shit show at work and I’m still trying to at least do something to take care of you.” 

Take care of you? Nuh, uh. That was the last straw. 

You stood up out of your chair, palms flat on the table as you glared at Javi. “Take care of me? Seriously, Javi? Like I’m some sort of helpless little puppy that can’t fend for themself? I am more than fucking capeable of taking care of myself, and this whole week you have been acting like I am literally incapable of doing anything in this house. Listen, I can tell things have been shitty for you at work, and this week has sucked for me too, but every time I try to go do something nice for you, something to actually help take care of you? You’re already halfway down my goddamn throat, telling me to stop or fix whatever it is I’m doing.” Your heart was racing, blood pumping through your veins so intensely, you could feel your hands begin to shake. 

“Because it’s my fucking job to take care of you!” He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as you stood with your hands on your hips, laughing at him in the least humorous way possible. 

“Your job? Your fucking job? You don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself? That’s fucking great. So you can take care of me, but I can’t take care of you? Yeah, that makes sense. Un-fucking-believeable. I don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you this past week, but I can’t do this right now. I’m going on a fucking run.” You stormed to the door, throwing on your shoes as you white knuckled your keys in your grasp. 

“You fucking hate running!” Javi yelled, clenching his jaw before burying his hands in his face. 

“I don’t fucking care!” You grunted back, deliberately slamming the door behind you as you sauntered down the stairs of your apartment to the parking lot. Javi was right, there was no physical activity you hated more than running. You weren’t really sure what your plan was, just that you couldn’t stand there fighting with Javi anymore. You could feel the adrenaline flowing through you, enough to make you pick up your feet and actually begin sprinting down the sidewalk. You just kept running. Running until you could feel your sides begin to hurt, until your eyes began to sting from the tears welling behind them, until your chest felt like it was collapsing in on you, making you stop in the middle of the cement pathway in a full on breakdown. You could barely catch your breath, sobbing, as your hands dropped to your knees, your body trembling with each pathetic whimper. 

What the fuck were you doing? Why was Javi being like this? Why were you being like this? Why won’t he just talk to you? Why can you just not make things right? Why was the one person you loved more than anything in the world the one who was making you feel like you’d been run over by a semi-truck? 

Wiping your tears and snot with your sleeve, you took a deep breath and turned around to head home, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was causing you to both suffer through the worst week ever.

“Javi?” You peeked into the apartment, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?” He answered, his voice still sharp, making you wince as you walked over to the couch where he sat. 

“Javi… Javi what’s going on? I can’t do this anymore. If I did something to make you mad, I’m sorry, I just-” 

“Fucking work has just been a shit show, okay?” He snapped, cutting off your sentence. “I’m going to bed, I’m fucking exhausted.” He sighed as he got up, storming his way down the hallway, leaving you there alone on the couch, your bottom lip quivering as the tears began to stream down your face again, leaving you in a silent, sobbing heap on the couch. 

You waited a while before getting into bed with Javi, entering your bedroom in its already dark state to avoid crossing paths while the two of you finished your nighttime routines. You crawled into your comforter, eyes still red and puffy as you lay back to back with Javi, without so much as even a good night, let alone, an “I love you.” 

You could feel yourself stirring, tossing and turning in your sleep as you rolled over, outstretching your arm to an unfamiliarly empty space. You turned over to face Javi, now finding yourself wide awake at the fact that he wasn’t there next to you. Immediately, you shot up, calling out his name as you got out of bed, wondering where the hell he was. As you made your way into the hallway, you whispered his name once more before hearing the sounds of heavy, labored breathing coming from the living room. You rushed in, finding Javi sitting on the floor, his hand grasping at his chest with a look of pure panic on his face. 

“I feel like… Fuck, I feel like I can’t breathe. My heart is beating so fast.” He whimpered between his shaky breathing and sobs. “I just- I just kept seeing it over and over again in my head and I woke up and it still wouldn’t go away. Every when I wake up, it’s like it’s fucking haunting me. I feel like something’s crushing my chest. Baby, what’s happening?” He gasped as he looked up at you, helpless and desperate.  

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You knew exactly what was happening. 

Immediately, you climbed into his lap, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as possible, stretching your arms as widely as you could around the broadness of his body. You tried to slow your breathing down, taking long inhales and exhales as you held him. “Just breathe, baby. It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. I’m here. Deep breaths, okay?” 

“Osita, I can’t- Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” His voice was trembling, each word low and labored as he grasped at the back of his shirt you had draped over your back. 

“I know, baby. I know. I know it’s scary. I promise that you’re safe. I’m here, okay? Just breathe. In and out. I’m not leaving. You’re safe with me, I promise it will be okay.” Even though your heart was shattering, you did everything you could to be the calm in his storm, whispering your reassurances in your soft, sweet voice. Slowly but surely, you could feel the intensity of his breaths lessen, the rising and falling of his chest easing as he grasped tighter at your shirt, pulling you closer to him. 

“It’s okay, Javi. It’s okay. Listen, I’m gonna ask you to do something, alright? It’s gonna sound stupid but it’s gonna help.” You could feel him nod against your chest, his sobs finally beginning to slow. “Can you open your eyes and tell me 5 things you see?” You felt him lift his head, looking up at you, his face wet and red as his deep brown eyes locked with yours.

“Fuck, um, the- the wall, the carpet, the uh, um, the couch, shit, the TV, you. I can see you.” 

“Okay, perfect. What about 4 things you can touch, like feel in your hands?” You smiled gently at him as his breathing was now at a near normal rate. He raised up his arm, wiping his damp face with his palm. 

“My fucking wet face.” The both of you smirked, bringing you relief that Javi was already half laughing. “The carpet, my shirt, that always looks better on you than it does on me. Fuck, I can feel your skin, it’s always so soft. I love feeling it.” He ran one of his hands along the bare skin of your thigh, his fingers grasping at your flesh. 

“You’re doing great, baby. How about 3 things you can hear?” 

“Um, the cars outside, the fan, I could feel your heartbeat when I was on your chest.” He pressed his head back against you, raking your fingers through the ends of his damp curls, sticking to his forehead from his panicked sweat. 

Okay, almost done. What about 2 things you can smell?” You asked, running your fingers along the nape of his neck. 

“Your shirt smells like laundry. No matter how hard I try it just always smells better when you do it. And your shampoo. It always smells so sweet and fruity, it’s my favorite.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hand gently tugging at the ends of your hair, twisting his fingers through it. 

“Okay, last one. Something you can taste.” He lifted his head, looking at you as he slid the hand in your hair to cradle your jaw, cupping your face. 

“You.” He rasped, his lips barely pressing against yours, feeling the hot breaths between your mouths as they met. He pulled back, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “Baby…I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. This week has been all my fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this and I was scared. I was so fucking scared.” 

“Javi, it’s okay. Please, I just want to be here for you. You know you can tell me anything, okay? I love you, Javi. I love you more than anything. I know it hurts to talk about the things that scare you the most, but it’s even scarier watching the person you love hurt so badly and not knowing what to do to help them. I don’t care what it is, baby. There’s nothing you can tell me that’s gonna scare me away.” The look on his face nearly broke you. You could tell he was so hurt. Hurt by whatever had been haunting him. Hurt by the fact he wasn’t okay. Hurt by the fact that he had hurt you. 

“The project I’ve been working on this week… It all started because of how bad things are getting across the border in Mexico. A mom was out with her kids and they were all shot in a hit and run accident between two people making a drug trade. It was only an hour from here. I watched so many people do so many fucked up things that I thought I would never have to worry about again once I got home. And even if I did, I was going to be the only person I needed to worry about. But I couldn’t stop imagining that mom with her kids was you. You and our future kids. Every night since that fucking case file got set on my desk, I wake up to the same fucking nightmare of me running down the street, trying to grab you, push you, do anything to get you out of the way, but every fucking night I’m never fast enough. All I can do is watch as that bullet goes through you and you fall to the ground. I can’t let it happen to you. What if something goes wrong and I can’t protect you? I couldn’t fucking live with myself. I just want to keep you safe Osita. I’m so sorry. I love you too much to lose you.” 

Fuck. 

It wasn’t long before you were crying with him, squeezing him tightly once again, pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. That’s what had been going on. That’s why he had been so overbearing. That’s why he hadn’t been the Javi that you’d known and loved this week. On the night he’d told you the worst of the things he had seen and done away in Colombia, you had seen how his eyes had filled with regret, remorse, even anger. But this was different. Never once in the time that you’d known him had you seen Javi so scared. The look in his eyes when you found him sitting on the floor was one of pure terror. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like, waking up night after night to the image of Javi slipping away, let alone coming to grips with the reality that you couldn’t even fathom, and he knew far too well. Javi knew you had no problem sticking up for yourself. You were strong, tough, and fiercely independent- those were all things he loved so much about you. But those things weren’t enough to protect you from the dangers that haunted his past, or the terrifying reality of the present. 

Through the silent cries of your sobs, you felt Javi’s hand under your chin, lifting your head to force your eyes to meet. “Osita, I’m so sorry. Pease, please forgive me. I’ve been so lost in my own world this week because I’ve been so scared about what could happen to you. I had my head so far up my own ass that I thought I was doing everything I could to try and keep you safe in any way that I could, and instead I’ve just been a fucking dick to the person I care about more than anything in the world. I don’t wanna fight anymore, I fucking hate it. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

You draped your arms around his neck, your fingers tracing small, gentle circles along his back as you stared back at him. “I didn’t know, Javi. I didn’t know you were so scared. I’m so sorry. I don’t wanna fight anymore either. This has been the shittiest week. I missed you. I missed my best friend.” He pressed his hand against the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he hugged you tightly. “You just have to promise me something, okay?” 

“Anything. Anything, baby.” 

“You have to promise me that you can’t keep all of this in. You have to promise me you’ll talk to someone about it. Me, your dad, people at work, Steve, a therapist, someone. There are so many people who care so much about you who just wanna help. You’re the strongest person I know, Javi, but it’s okay to not be strong sometimes.” He let out a long, shaky breath, darting his eyes down at the ground, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. “You promise me?” You asked again, grabbing his face in your hands, swiping your thumb along his wet cheeks. 

“I promise.” 

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how sorry you were for the way you had acted. You found yourself face to face, eyes closing as your mouths came together in the most gentle, tender kiss. But even as your parted lips barely pressed against one another, you could practically feel how desperate you both were. 

“I love you.” 

Even though you whispered it against the soft, unshaven stubble of Javi’s cheek, it feels like you’re screaming it, determined to make sure he hears those 3 words as they fall from your lips, that he knows how much you mean each one, every second of every hour of every day. You can feel the heat in your chest as his hands grasp around the small of your back, pulling you closer as your bodies melt together, the tension straining in your muscles dissipating with each second he pulls you closer. 

“I love you too.” 

It felt like suddenly, all was right with the world again. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how desperately he craved you, too. The tingle built at the base of your spine as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hand creeping further up your belly, pressing against the curves of your sides. You raised your arms as his fists balled up the worn fabric, carefully lifting it over your head as his hot breath ran against your neck, leaving gentle, tender kisses along your newly exposed skin. Your hands pressed against his hips, tugging at the waistband of his cotton sleep shorts as he locked his arms under your legs, bringing you both to stand as you wrapped your legs around the small of his back, the skin of your bare chests brushing against each other as he carried you toward the bedroom. Each kiss of your parted lips was like a plea, begging that the other would forgive you, that despite the way you had treated each other there was no one in the world that you loved more, that you would rather be with right here, right now. 

Crossing the threshold to the bedroom, Javi leaned his body over the mattress, carefully placing you down in the warm, tangled sheets of your bed that had felt so cold and harsh only a few hours ago. You looked up at Javi standing at the end of the bed as he nudged his shorts off of his hips, leaving him exposed, the clothes now pooling around his ankles. Crawling over you, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, the only thing left on your body after your shirt had been left behind in the living room. You lifted your hips, helping him shuffle the fabric down your legs as he ran his hands along the meat of your thighs. He leaned over you, the temples of your foreheads pressed against each other as his fingers danced along the skin of your bare legs, barely grazing against your entrance. You could already feel the slick of your arousal pooling under his touch, the calloused pads of his fingers ever so gently tracing up and down your folds, making you shutter. 

“Javi... Please.” Your voice trembled as Javi nodded, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You gasped as you felt the thickness of his fingers heedfully pushing themselves inside you, arching your back against the bed as his thumb delicately pressed on your clit. Each thrust of his hand in and out of your heat was dragging and deliberate, the rubbing of his fingertip along your sensitive bundle of nerves making your moans muffled against his chest. Every touch of his hand made you feel better than the last, but there was something primal about the way that you needed him inside you, how you ached to feel him buried deep in heat, to feel every inch of him. “I need you. Please, I need you.” You whimpered against his skin, making him lift his head to look at you as you watched the chocolate brown of his eyes grow darker with lust. He worked in silence, removing his fingers as he stroked himself, making your cunt throb in anticipation as you felt the tip of his cock stroke along your entrance, a moan escaping from your parted lips as he guided himself inside you. 

“Fuck…” He whispered, pushing himself in further, inch by inch, before bottoming out, his tip bumping against your cervix. You wrapped your legs around his back, doing anything you could to bring him closer to you, trying to melt your bodies into one and hold him so tightly you could never let him float away again. You dug your nails into his muscular back as he began to thrust in and out of you, taking his time with each stroke, as if he was savoring every sweet moment. “I love you, Osita. I love you so much, baby. Gonna make you feel good, okay? I promise.” It was like you could feel his words with each stroke, the promise that had fallen from his lips burying itself deep inside you with every rock of his hips against yours. Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of your mixed moans and skin hitting against each other. Even when no words escaped from your mouths, it was almost as if you could hear each other through the sounds between the two of you, coating your walls. 

I love you. 

I need you. 

I’m so sorry. 

His palm pressed along the sheen of your skin, snaking down your body to rub against your clit, intensifying the throbbing that you already felt growing between your legs. With each thrust of his hips, his cock pounded deeper into your heat, hitting the spot within you that had the arousal beginning to pool intensely within your belly, that creeping familiar feeling building at the base of your spine. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him. 

“Javi, pleaseee. Bab-ahhhhh, I’m so close.” You felt your cunt begin to clench around his length, making him moan as each push and pull of hips became more intense, punching against your g-spot and making your writhe under his touch.

“I know you are, Hermosa. Cum for me baby, cum all over me and show me how you’re mine.” 

His words make something inside you snap, making you shake and your body tense as your arms and legs tightened their grip around Javi, crying out his name as your orgasm rushed through you. His lips met yours, swallowing your moans as his pumps became frantic and sloppy, only taking a few more before he was chasing his own high. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking perfect. Te amo más que a nada. Soy tyuo para siempre. (I love you more than anything, I’m yours, forever.). Fuck, I’m gonna- shit- I’m- ahhhhhhh” With one last push, you could feel him throbbing inside you, spilling against your walls, pumping every last drop of himself inside you as he slumped into your body, your hearts racing, chests rising and falling as one. The two of you laid there for a moment, your bodies tangled in each other, letting each of your breaths sync as you came down from your blissed out highs. Javi hissed as he turned over to pull out of you, making you whine at the loss, before rolling over to lay your head on his chest. You could feel his arm wrap around you to pull you in closer, his fingers tracing along your shoulder blade as you draped your arm across his stomach. 

“I guess that’s one way to make up for this shitty week.” You giggled as Javi shook his head, joining you, the both of you glad to hear the sweet sounds of each other's laughter for the first time in much too long. “Can we never do this again? I never wanna fight like that ever again. These last few days have sucked without you.” 

“Never. This was the fucking worst. Never again. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head, burying his nose in your messy curls as he held you just a little bit tighter. 

“Okay.” You smiled against his warm, tanned skin before looking up at him. “You wanna know the worst part?” 

“What, baby?” 

“I didn’t even get to eat any of that pizza.” Javi chuckled as he shook you playfully in his grasp, making you squirm and snicker as he held you. 

“There’s still some left in the fridge. Let me go get it and you can tell me all about your week, okay?” He kissed your forehead as he pushed himself out of bed, making his way to the door. 

“Okay. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, I didn’t even get to tell you how I had to call Mark’s mom in the middle of math because he stuck a crayon up his nose yesterday.” The both of you snorted as Javi looked back at you. 

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” 

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 :

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: This drabble is part of the same universe as my fic 'Off to the Races' which you can read here. A little peek into your lives after you begin your office affair with Javier Peña. Basically just Javier using you as a literal human stress ball after a long day (aka fucking your face)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, age gap [reader is in her early twenties Javier is in his mid 40s], pet names, slight angst, javi is emotionally unavailable, smut, explicit sexual content, explicit language, minor daddy kink, dom!Javi, mean brat tamer! javi, sub!reader, major size kink, cheek pulling, like one spank, minor choking, name calling, oral [m receiving], face fucking [kinda], semi public sex [in his office], rough sex, unprotected P in V [don't do it!!] let me know if I missed anything <3

Word count: 2.1k words.

A/N: I couldn't help but revisit these two absolute fools, so I hope you enjoy this little peak into their lives after their lil ordeal. Literally porn so right up your ally you nasties.

Continuation of Off to the Races. Masterlist

It was pathetic, the way you’d melt at the mere sight of the man. Since your little encounter a month ago you had found yourself in Javier’s arms at least four out of the five working days. In the filing room, during lunch breaks, after hours when he stayed back to finish his work– it didn't matter. It was debauched, the fact that you had fucked in pretty much every room in the embassy building. The only place left was Noonan’s desk, and knowing Javier you were sure if he had his way that would be the first thing he’d be bending you over. 

As much as you wished you could say you were calm about the whole situation you couldn’t. You’d be lying through your teeth if you did. When he gave you that look, or came up behind you at your desk, or smacked your ass as he moved past you, you had to use all your self restraint to hold yourself up on your feet. Your little unbothered facade had flown out the window, and while you still gave him a hard time he knew what he did to you, and made it painfully obvious that he did. It was literal hell, the way he’d got you in a choke hold, and despite your better judgment you enjoyed every second of it. 

It had become somewhat of an unspoken understanding between the two of you– you were going to be a brat, and he was just going to have to deal with it. Then again, not like he gave a shit, a few whispers in your ear, some kisses down your neck and you were begging him to use you. Sounded like a pretty good deal to him. 

You didn't want it to be that way, of course you wished you didn’t turn into a needy mess every time he laid eyes on you, but what was self control when the man you wanted was Javier Peña? In any other case you’d be out the next day, didn’t matter how hot he was, you were not going to be anyone’s little fuck doll. Then again he wasn’t anyone, he was Javier Peña, and how in the world could you let go of him? 

You chided yourself, hell you kicked yourself, for how pathetic you sounded when you fawned over him in your head every now and then, and pushed that stinging feeling in your chest down to where it couldn't bother you whenever you realized he hadn’t changed. And, of course he hadn’t changed. He was still a fucking asshole, still a hardass, still that same cold, distant, prick he was when he first met you. But hell if you cared. 

Well you did care, but not when he had his fingers in your pussy, or his hand around your throat. 

He had long days, hard days, stressful days, days where he’d storm in late in the evening and slam his office door shut; stay there and work in silence till everyone left the building. You didn't know if you should've felt proud, or happy, that whenever you walked in there he’d look at you like he wanted to rip you apart, would pretty much jump out of his seat to get his hands on you, let them roam your body. It felt shitty to say, but you looked forward to those days, where he just couldn’t keep himself away.   

Javier had come back to the office in a particularly bad mood one evening, and you were lucky the only person who was still in the building was the janitor finishing his final round before the weekend. Chris and Daniel had invited you to join the rest of the office for drinks at the pub, a relaxing way to close off the week. Pretty much everyone was going, even Murphy, and while you initially thought you were better off taking the Friday evening to unwind you were quick to put yourself in check. You had spent far too many work hours gawking and drooling over Javier, and your second report was due the next day, so you politely declined their offer in an uncharacteristic moment of responsible decision making. 

Your plan however was completely foiled, and you were sure you’d kick yourself later for abandoning your academic obligations to get on your knees for a man who seemed impressed by the fact you could get from one end of the embassy building to the other. It was almost like the universe was hell bent on hitting home just how much you screwed yourself over with this whole Peña situation. 

So that's how you ended up where you were– on your knees and under his desk, in the middle of the night, with his hand guiding the back of your neck as he leaned back in his chair. .  

“That’s it baby, just like that..”  Your tongue ran up the length of him, and you could only moan around his cock at the praise. Like always you had given yourself completely to him, doing just about anything to be the object of his affection. To your credit that wasn’t much, it didn’t take a whole lot for him to be ripping your clothes right off you. That being said you could never get enough of it, all you ever wanted was to appease him. Your knees were tender from where they were rubbing against the old, worn out office carpet, but you couldn't care less about that in the moment. Besides, how could you, not when his palm moved to cradle your cheek, and his thumb brushed your skin gently. 

Cherishing the tenderness, any little bit of it you could get, you let your eyes flutter shut momentarily, especially because in a second he was pushing your head down, forcing you to take all of his cock as you drooled and spluttered around him. You shifted uncomfortably, closer to him to alleviate the ache building between your thighs, your pussy dripping and soaking your panties at the very feel of him heavy against your tongue. 

You were a mess, his hips moved to fuck your warm mouth as you felt yourself tighten around him– his tip nudging the back of your throat. Your hands gripped his thighs to regain any sense of composure. With furrowed brows you whined in frustration when he chuckled at your zeal, his head falling back against the back of his leather chair, eyes drinking in the sight of you sitting between his thighs –looking up at him, fresh tears dripping down your cheeks with every rough thrust of his hips. 

“My good little slut, takin’ me so well.” His little praise only egged you on, and you pushed your discomfort aside to take him as far back as you could. Gazing up at him you felt yourself get a little dizzy, the way he was looking down at you, with hooded eyes, and extreme desperation, brows furrowed with pleasure as he guided you over his cock. In your mind you were all screams of pride and pleasure, your own neediness now more prevalent than ever and having you wish for nothing more than to have him fill you up. 

From the way he reacted when you dragged your lips against him he was on the same page. It wasn't long before he was yanking you up to his level, moving your thighs so you were perched on his lap, skirt crumpling messily around your waist as your legs adjusted to the way they were squished on either side of him. He wasn't wasting a second, not with the way he smacked your ass in instruction to lift yourself up. 

It was frantic, and eager and it only made you more needy than you were– the way he rag dolled you around without a care in the world. You grabbed onto his shoulders with the kind of force you didn't even know you could muster, squeezing the fabric of his white button up shirt in your fist as your head fell in the crook of his neck. He held your hips in place as he fucked into your sopping pussy, hands squeezing your flesh breifly before they were grabbing your face and forcing you to look in his direction. 

He pinched your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger the way he always did, the feeling only intensifying your disorientation as you tried to focus on him amid his steady thrusts, each one making your thighs tremble by his sides, your eyes flutter shut with the intensity. 

His nose brushed yours lightly when he pressed his forehead against yours, lips ghosting your own ever so slightly. You wanted him to reach out, kiss your parted lips as you bounced breathlessly atop him. But you knew he wouldn’t, especially when he shifted past your waiting mouth so he could trail messy kisses along the column of your neck. Unable to hold yourself up with your own strength you dropped your head back against his shoulder, steadied only by his hands guiding your waist. 

“Thought about you all fuckin day baby, thought ‘bout fucking this tight lil pussy. Been such a shitty fuckin week. Noonan, and that dick Stechner, and those motherfuckers ‘ve been chasin’ for months…”  A shiver ran down your spine as he whispered in your ear, directly to you, telling you how much he wanted you, needed you. You felt your pussy clench around him, legs going limp at his words. He leaned down, barely placing a kiss to your ear with the way you had buried your face in his neck, nose nuzzling the disheveled collar of his dress shirt. 

“Can’t catch a fuckin break..” 

His hand sneaked up along your throat, squeezing gently and pulling you up to face him. “But you’re my good little fuckdoll aren’t you? Gonna let me fuck you till you’re full’ve my cum?”. Your soft ‘yes’ was harder to get out than you could've ever imagined, your head nodding eagerly in response. He zoned in and out of your blurry vision, and in the haze you saw him nodding softly at you, mumbling an encouraging “ I know” as his hips slammed against yours. 

“Like it when daddy uses you, don’t you baby?” Your skin was hot under his touch. 

He was doing all the work at that point, holding you in place against him as he thrust roughly into you. You felt your slick coat the inside of your thighs as he fucked your desperate cunt, your core burning with desire, your orgasm building inside you faster than you could control. Slipping his hands under your top his rough skin brushed your soft flesh erratically– gripping and nipping and clutching on to you with want. 

“Fuck, pretty pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.” The cold office was warm like it would be on a hot summer day, each world he spoke sending you rushing towards your release. Your hips rolled to meet his, your hands planted firmly on his chest as you held yourself up with all the energy you could muster, just willing yourself to push him, and you, over the edge. 

Your pussy pulsed around his cock, your body falling forward onto him as you hit your climax. He didn’t let go of you, still fucking you through your orgasm as you trembled in his arms. You were sure you were seeing stars, eyes rolling back into your head when you felt his hips stutter against your own. With a few hard thrusts he was meeting you at the peak, painting your throbbing walls with his cum.  

If you weren’t as spaced out as you were you’d probably burst into a fit of tears the way he was holding you. Chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath, hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as he pressed you to him– coming down from his high. Holding you close, the way he was in that moment was so uncharacteristic you were almost afraid you’d been fucked by someone entirely different, masquerading themselves in Javier’s body. He had pretty much enveloped you in his arms and his benevolent touch relaxed you into a daze for the brief but heavenly moment he sat with you in his lap. 

You were still recovering when he hooked his arm under your thighs, and got up from his chair. With closed eyes you felt him place you back on it, your legs draping over the arm rest as he fixed his clothes and put his things in order; that was after he had shifted your panties back in place, making sure you stayed full of his cum. 

All you could really make out in your stupor was the shuffling of paper, and his soft footsteps padding across the hardwood floors. You could have fallen asleep right there, in that shitty office chair of his, but before you could drift to dream land you felt him gently pinch your cheek, squeezing it lightly to wake you. 

And that was your cue that it was time to go. 

I can see your face, is shameless, Cipriani's Basement

Love you, but I'm goin' down

God, I'm so crazy, baby

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I like torturing myself with their relationship I’m sorry. I hope you enjoyed this lovelies. Let me know what you think, your feedback keeps me writing <3 Dividers and banners by @ saradika 🐝✨

[strang3lov3]

Phone a Friend

Joel Miller x fem Reader

Summary: A story involving two sexually frustrated assholes and how they resolved the tension. (Alternatively, Joel is sick of you keeping him up late at night with your hand between your thighs)

Warnings: Smut, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, PIV, the softest of soft dom joel, masturbation, spanking, slight perv!joel, sleazy!joel, implied age gap probably, enemies? with benefits?? Idiots in luuuurrve

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Was thinking of doing an enemies to lovers story and then thought, fuck it. Enemies AND lovers. Thank you @speckledemerald for proofreading!

please please please comment/reblog if you enjoy, i love reading the sweet things you say <3

It was amusing at first.

The first time it happened Joel was in bed reading a nice book Ellie picked out for him. He was just about to doze off, the words on the page illuminated by the warm light of his lamp began to blend together. 

“Oh,” 

It caught Joel off guard. And then a few more, quicker and breathier. 

“Oh, fuck,”

Frustrated moans spilling from your lips, right in the next room. They continued for an hour and Joel listened with an amused smile curling his lips as he palmed his bulge. He followed along with your moans, using your sweet noises to work himself up. He removed his cock from the confines of his plaid pajamas and stroked himself, every breathy moan of yours pushing him further and further to the edge. Joel had no issue coming in a timely matter, but you? You let out noises of frustration for what seemed like hours before finishing with a frustrated groan. And then silence.

Thin walls, what can you do?

The next morning Joel said nothing, just quietly sipped his coffee while you were slamming doors and cabinets and stomping around the kitchen. You had yelled out a perfectly crafted string of curse words, something like “Motherfucking piece of shit can’t toast one goddamn slice of bread without having a fucking aneurysm!” followed by “Cocksucking bastard of a toaster!” before you slammed your fist on the countertop.

Joel just smiled to himself in his coffee mug, knowing exactly why you were in such a charmingly pleasant mood. 

You had broken your dominant hand’s wrist a few weeks ago, and it was still healing. You couldn’t do much of anything with it, not write with a pencil or flip a pancake or butter a piece of bread. You had started trying to use your nondominant hand for more, but that had proved to be futile with mundane daily tasks. 

Apparently it wasn’t working very well in between your thighs either, Joel had deduced.

Joel just got up from his seat at the table, silently futzed with the toaster, then placed two slices of bread in for you. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

You didn’t bother replying, too frustrated in the early hours of the morning to entertain him. 

The routine happened nightly for weeks. 

Joel would be in bed, sleeping or reading. Your frustrated moans would wake him up, and he’d be rock hard at the dead of night. He’d jerk himself off tiredly, and then still spent hours listening to you continue to play with yourself. He’d be exhausted the next morning, sick of you inadvertently getting him all hot and bothered, and you’d be seeing red as you stomped around and slammed cabinets in maddening frustration.

It was amusing at first. Really. 

But it got old quickly.

Once, at breakfast, the situation was addressed. After a particularly long night of listening to your moans, Joel was practically falling asleep in his over-easy eggs and toast. “Morning, sunshine!” you said. He had said something rude and off handed to you in response, to which you replied “Aren’t you a fucking peach this morning?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Whatever,”

“I said, shut up,” Joel was the picture of exhaustion. Heavy bags under his eyes, a distant look in his pupils. One of his hands pinched the bridge of his nose as he furrowed his brows.  

“What’s your deal?”

“You,” he responded, not missing a beat. He decided the night before enough was enough, and you and he were going to share a conversation about noise levels.

Your brows knit together in confusion. Before you could ask, Joel interrupted. “Thin walls, darlin’,”

“What are you-”

“Fuckin’ playing with yourself all night. I hear you, you know,” He removed his hand from his face and stared at you with an irritated expression, his eyes boring into your own.

Your face heated up in embarrassment. “Jesus, Joel,”

“S’okay, hon. We all do it. But some of us like to do so with a bit more consideration for others, hmm?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,”

“You’re too loud,” Joel stated plainly. “And you take for-fuckin’-ever. Might as well make you come myself. Lord knows I do it better than you.” 

You glared at him, beside yourself that he was bringing that up. It’s not enough to embarrass you for masturbating, apparently.

You and Joel had a tricky relationship, to say the least.

He was simultaneously the person you trusted most in the world, and the biggest piece of shit you knew. He was arrogant, brash, and rude. He thought you were annoying and naive, and yet, you still slept with each other.

It was a night of drinking gone too far. One thing led to another, and then another. Before you knew it you were naked and tangled in each other's limbs, whimpering and moaning praises into his skin. You told him the next morning that it was a mistake and that it would never happen again. 

And then you’d do it again, of course. And again, and again.

Fucking Joel left you feeling full of all sorts of complicated things. You were sleeping with your enemy, and it was fucking incredible. He learned to play with your body perfectly, knowing exactly how to touch you to get you to fall to pieces for him. He could make you come embarrassingly quickly, melting for him in mere moments with the most feather-light and gentle touches. But he still drove you absolutely mad.

After each time, you told him the same thing: it would never happen again. But like clockwork, it would. After a bad date or another night of drinking too much, you’d be back where you started. Under him, on top of him. It didn’t matter. 

At this point, you and Joel hadn’t had sex in a few months. Your longest spell yet. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of it a few times, wishing for his skilled fingers instead of yours. But this time, this time would be different. You were determined to quit your addiction, even if the withdrawals were miserable. 

“My god, you’re an asshole,” you stood up from your seat angrily and put your plate into the kitchen sink. It fell with a loud clatter.

“I know you’d like it,” he said with a bite of food in his mouth. Gross, you thought. For a man who’s always on Ellie’s ass about manners, he sure didn’t have much of his own.

“You wish, dickhead,” you scolded, putting on your boots and lacing them up. “Fuck you. You try getting off with a broken wrist,”

“Wouldn’t have to. I’d just phone a friend, sweetheart. You should try it,” God, his smirk. His fucking shit-eating grin. You could slap it right off his excruciatingly handsome face. 

You rolled your eyes and put on a jacket, leaving Joel without saying goodbye. 

That night, while in bed, you decided to fuck with him for being such an asshole to you that morning.

With your hand between your thighs, you moaned loudly. Right into the wall. High pitched and unrealistically. Annoyingly. It was the middle of the night, surely waking Joel up.

Joel pounded on the wall with his fist. “Oh, that’s very mature,” he yelled, his voice muffled by the barrier. “Knock it off.”

You just moaned louder, more obnoxiously. Joel slammed on the wall. You were dicks to each other the next day, constantly at each other’s throats. 

You did this dance for a while. Was it ridiculous and completely unreasonable? Yes. But so was Joel. And you, for that matter. Fuck being the bigger person, this was Joel Miller you were dealing with.

Tonight, Joel was supposed to go to the bar with Tommy, but he had canceled. Stomach flu, said Tommy. So instead, Joel had a quiet night in. After dinner, he got into bed and picked up his book from his nightstand. 

He was about half an hour into reading when he heard you moan. And then you did it again. 

“Very funny” he grumbled to himself, tapping on his wall lightly. He was tired and didn’t have the energy to do another silly moaning/wall pounding argument. 

You didn’t stop. Truthfully, you didn’t hear him. You thought he was out with Tommy, nobody had let you know that plans were changed. 

Your moans were different tonight, Joel noticed. Not obnoxiously loud to piss him off. Just genuine, regular moans of pleasure. He decided to give you a break, let you let off some steam without him giving you shit for it. 

But then he heard it. 

Joel. 

Clear as day. His name, whimpered from your lips. He missed it dearly, how sweet his name sounded rolling off your tongue. Memories of his arms wrapped around you tightly while you’d whisper his name like a prayer into his neck. 

And that’s when he gets an idea.

He tiptoes out of bed, straight to your room. He twists the handle of your door, thanking god the lock is broken. Joel’s quiet, silent as he tiptoes to your bed. There’s a dim light illuminating your face, your eyes are scrunched tightly shut as you work sloppy circles into your clit, still moaning Joel’s name. 

He’s right next to you now, and taking a seat on your bed. “Moanin’ f’me and I ain’t even touchin’ you,” he whispers as he puts a hand on your bare leg. 

Your eyes fly open and you jump, nearly kicking him. “Joel!” you gasp. “What the fuck are you-”

“Thin walls,” he reminds you, though it’s not really an answer to your question. “Was that my name I heard you whispering?”

You shake your leg from his touch and sit up, covering yourself. “Jesus, Joel. No,” you spit, shooting daggers at him. “Get the fuck out.”

“Right,” he says, blatantly refusing to acknowledge your request. “Coulda’ told me you were missin’ my cock.” Joel’s hand returns to your leg, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin. You kick his hand away again. Presumptuous piece of shit.

Heat is rising to your cheeks and you continue to glare at him with pure hatred. “You wish. I don’t miss any part of you,” you hiss. 

“Oh, how you wound me, sweetheart,” Joel clutches a hand to his heart sarcastically. 

“I am not doing this with you. Get out. Now,” you demand. You’re not entertaining this asshole and his flagrant violation of your privacy. 

Joel chuckles. “No. I’m not leavin’ yet,”

“Why?”

“Because you keep me up night after fuckin’ night. I’m not leavin’ until I know you’re finished,”

You don’t have the time or energy for this bullshit. “Joel, move,” you warn, kicking into his thigh with your foot. But he doesn’t budge. 

You think for a second, taking in the situation. Joel’s watched you come a million times before. And he looks fucking sexy tonight, his plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips, giving you a perfect view of his happy trail. He’s not wearing a shirt, his salt and pepper hair is a curly bed-headed mess. His eyes are darkened with lust, sparkling in the dim light. His hand has returned to your ankle, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have some eye candy as you pleasure yourself.

“Fine,” you concede. “I come, you leave me alone, and we both go to sleep after.”

He shoots you a sly smile. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pulling you closer and separating your thighs. His touch on your skin is electric and sends desire shooting through your veins, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you feel good again. If he wants to torture you, you’ll do it right back to him.

“You’re not touching me,” you say flatly, wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pushing him away from your thighs. “I’m doing this myself.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Joel replies. He figured you’d say that, seeing as how stubborn you can be. “You just come for me and I’ll be on my merry way.”

“I’m coming for me. Not you, Joel,”

“Hmm, s’that right?”

“Yup,”

You’re silent then, unsure of the logistics of this sexual endeavor. Joel’s seen you in so many vulnerable positions, tasted your most intimate places and heard your most desperate moans. Still, you’re shy. Masturbating for someone else is vastly different than being an active participant in sex.

And his eyes, good fucking lord. Staring at you intensely like you’re artwork. Or rather, an artist. Desperately waiting to see the way you paint circles on your clit.

Fuck it. With a deep breath in and then a deep breath out, you rip the bandaid off and begin. You close your eyes, unable to look into Joel’s piercing gaze any longer. Your fingers begin trailing under your shirt, pinching and twisting at your nipples gently. You lean into your touch, your hand slides further down the soft skin of your tummy and then your tuft of coarse hair, finally settling at your cunt. 

You’re not quite wet yet, you realize as your fingers grace your entrance to gather your arousal. Rather hurriedly, you bring your fingers to your lips and cover them in saliva before returning to your center. You adjust slightly, spreading your legs wider. And then you begin. 

You start with slow circles orbiting your clit, somehow over sensitive and yet not feeling enough. You quicken your pace, then slow down again. And then speed up. All the while, letting out frustrated grunts and moans. 

“Need some help, sweetheart?” Joel’s voice interrupts.

You let out an exhausted groan at the way he breaks your concentration, as if you were close at all. “No, just shut the fuck up,” you hiss, not opening your eyes to meet his gaze. You wonder if you offended him, but you don’t really care. Joel can go scratch for all you give a shit.

You continue your actions, circling your clit with your fingers. And it just doesn’t feel right. It’s fumbling, awkward. You wish you had your other hand between your thighs. Really, you’re dying for Joel to touch you. It’s his skilled fingers you want tracing circles into your clit. But you remain firm in your protest of his pleasure. 

“Doin’ it wrong,” his voice interrupts. He says it flatly, like it’s so glaringly obvious. Like he would fucking know, you think. Except, deep down you know that he does know. 

He reaches forward and adjusts your fingers to better suit your needs, and you gasp when his fingers touch your skin. “Try that,” he whispers. 

And so, without changing the placement of your fingers, you continue. It’s…better. Much better, actually. But you’re still struggling to get even a hair closer. 

“Look at you,” Joel whispers tauntingly. “No wonder you can’t come. You don’t know what you’re doin’ with all this. Need me to take care of this pretty pussy.”

“I most certainly do not,” you huff, irritated with his pompous and smug attitude. You gasp as you feel one of his fingers tease your entrance, slowly pushing inside. 

“Really?” Joel teases with a tantalizing tone. He curls his finger inside you, finding that spot that makes your head spin as you continue your circles. Your hips jut upward in search of more, more, more. “Don’t you want me to make it all better for you?”

“N-no,” you stutter in response, still bucking him. 

“That’s fine,” he mumbles, removing his finger. You whine at the loss, reaching your hand to grasp at his and put it back at your center.  

“No, no, don’t stop,” you whine, voice wrecked and desperate.

“Can you ask nicely?”

Oh, fuck him. “Please,” you rasp out, opening your eyes to meet his. He looks so fucking cocky, wearing a smug grin as he pushes two of his thick fingers in you with ease this time. You’re much, much wetter than you were before. 

He pushes upward inside you repeatedly, fingers dancing in your wet heat. It’s deplorable, loathsome, the way you melt under his touch. 

“Wanna know what your problem is, honey?” His voice is soft and syrupy sweet, and you hate that stupid charming affectation he puts on.

“No,” you breathe. “Just make me-”

“I’ll tell you what your problem is,” he interrupts. Dickhead. “You ain’t gentle with yourself. Need to be more patient,”

“Joel, for the love of god,” your voice is strained as he continues teasing you, his touch feels infinitely better than your own but he’s holding back, not yet giving you what he knows you need so desperately. 

“Pretty pussy like this needs love, sweetheart,”

You ignore him and buck your hips into his hand, needing more than what he’s giving you. “Joel, shut up and make me come,”

He swats your ass. “You ask me nice, now,” he instructs. 

You roll your eyes as far back as they can go, and comply with his unreasonable request. “Please,”

“Please what?”

“Please shut up and make me come,” you snap.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ delight,” he says sarcastically, irritated. “You wanna try that again?” He begins pulling his hand away, threatening to leave you high and dry. He knows he’s your only way of finishing tonight. 

“Fuck, please. I just wanna come,” you sigh, defeated and exhausted. It’s been an eternity since you had a proper orgasm, and you just want to come. If only the man getting you off wasn’t such a tool. “Please.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel taunts, smiling. He pulls you close, pushing your shirt up to play with your plump breasts. He grabs a handful, and begins kissing your inner thighs, kissing down, down…

You gasp when you feel him press a kiss to your sex, his fingers now twisting and teasing your nipples as his tongue explores every inch of your slick folds. Not that he needs to experiment at all, he has your body memorized. Every fucking inch of you. 

He fucks you with his fingers as he kisses your pussy, tonguing your slick folds and licking up every last drop of your sweet arousal. 

“Fuck, yes Joel. Just like that,” you breathe, pushing your hips into his face. His nose and mouth are hidden by your body, his eyes are intense and teasing when he raises his brows in amusement. Honestly, he thought you’d take longer to crack. But here you are, whimpering his name with every flick of his tongue and his fingers on your sensitive nipples, twisting and teasing them just so. 

He takes a moment to just taste you, get his fill of you before finishing you off. He flattens his tongue against you, then points it into your clit. He spends moments alternating between the actions, savoring every inch of you. The way you moan, the way your insides flutter around his fingers. The wet noises of your pussy are downright pornographic as he devours you and you can feel his devious smirk against your pussy.

When he’s satisfied, Joel wraps his plump lips around your sensitive bud gently, still flicking his tongue against you. You fall to pieces instantaneously, your thighs tremble and shake as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” is about all you remember how to say when you come on his tongue. He has this effect on you, making you forget how to speak. It’s even worse now. 

You’re a mess of heaving breaths and whimpers as you ride out your long-awaited orgasm on his tongue. All you can do is cry his name as he overstimulates your pussy before he finally slows, kissing up your body and neck. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips and you taste yourself on his tongue, suddenly feeling bashful.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear. He pulls away then and leaves your room, just as he promised. 

His footsteps fade out as he returns to his own room, his cock painfully hard and leaking precum. You’re still in bed, not yet fully satiated. 

You know what you need. As if you haven’t been a needy mess for him enough already. You’re an addict, completely powerless against your addiction. You wince as you get out of bed, following his footsteps as you contemplate the kind of sickening satisfaction you’re about to give him. 

Joel looks surprised when you enter his room, but you say nothing as you walk up to him. He’s tall and imposing above you, staring you down with an eyebrow cocked in interest, wondering if you’re about to do what he thinks you’re about to do.

You shove a hand down his pants, his cock is achingly stiff. You palm him, pushing him back towards the bed as your other hand tries to push down his pajama bottoms. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” he stops you, grabbing ahold of your hand on his dick. “Thought you said you didn’t miss my cock,”

“I don’t,” you reply firmly. 

“Then what’s your hand doin’ down my pants?”

You mumble incoherently, babbling something about just needing to fuck him. He stops you, “You can just ask, baby. I don’t mind givin’ you a little extra lovin’ if that’s what you need,”

You nod, unable to form a coherent thought. 

“Words, my love,” he reminds you. 

“Please,” 

“Please what?”

“I need you,” 

“Why?”

You groan angrily, tired of his boorish act. You push him on the bed and kneel between his legs. “I don’t know,” 

“Because like it or not, I make you feel good. Right?” Joel taps your cheek, encouraging you to look into his eyes. “I take good care of your pussy, don’t I?”

“You do,” you mumble under your breath. 

“Couldn’t hear ya, need ya to speak up f’me. Got bad ears, sweetheart,”

“You do,” you say a little clearer this time. 

“One more time. Who takes care of you?”

Oh, you could kill him. He must think this is so funny, watching you squirm and try to spell it all out. But then you remember, with his aching cock in your hand, you don’t have to listen to this. You have the power to shut him up. 

You pull his cock out of his pants quickly and part your lips over the blushed tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue. He loses himself, gasping at the feeling of your tongue circling his tip and tracing thick veins as you lower your head down his cock. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this. 

“Ffff-” he hisses, one of his strong hands tangling in your hair. You’re using your mouth just how he likes, sucking him and swirling your tongue on his shaft. He’s breathing deeply, his soft tummy hitting your forehead with every deep breath he takes. 

You relish in the feeling of him falling apart for you, but more importantly the silence. The sexiest thing about Joel is when he shuts the fuck up. 

Your nose brushes the tuft of hair surrounding him, pushing yourself deeper and deeper, as deep as you can go. You hollow your cheeks, using your soft and wet mouth to massage him. You feel him twitch in your mouth, and he yanks you up by your arms, spit dribbling down your chin. 

Both of you are silent, save for your panting breaths and moans. No words need to be spoken, both of you know exactly what you’re needing. You’ve done this dance a million times before and have memorized a routine.

You straddle Joel’s thighs, centering yourself over his cock. You reach down to grab it and line yourself up, but something changes in Joel. In a swift motion, Joel flips you over on your tummy and presses down on your head with his big hand, using the other to pull your ass up to his cock. You gasp in surprise.

“Stay like that,” he instructs you. “Don’t move.”

You feel so exposed like this, on display and waiting for him to fuck you. Joel shimmies off his pajamas and kneels behind you, dragging the tip of his cock through your slick folds to gather your arousal. Despite the way your cunt drips for him, it’s not enough. 

Roughly, he pulls you up by your neck and shoves a palm under your mouth. “Spit,” he commands. 

And so you spit into his palm, feeling blood rush to your tummy in nervousness. He’s never been this way with you before.

“We’re doin’ things my way,” you hear him growl as he smears your saliva over his cock. “Been listening to you play with yourself for too damn long.”

“Joel,” you whine, arching your back and pushing into his hips. He swats your ass just enough to sting slightly, not hurting you too bad. 

“Shut up,” he says, pushing his tip into your center and dragging it through your folds. “I think,” he starts, notching his tip in your entrance. “I think when you come from now on, it’s gonna be ‘cause I let you.”

You can only mumble in response, head going fuzzy at his words. All you can think about his how much you need to be fucked. 

“Think you need to learn some self control,” he begins pushing in at an absolutely achingly slow pace. Millimeter by millimeter.

“Joel, move,” you demand with a groan, ignoring his words and pushing your hips back. He holds your hips  tightly, not allowing you to move further. You’re so needy, so ready to just be fucked hard, the way you picture him each night. Pounding into you mercilessly.  

“See, now that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” he chides you. “No patience.”

Joel continues pushing into you at a slow pace, letting you feel every inch of his member. He stretches your hole deliciously, allowing you to feel completely full. “Remember what I said? Gotta be gentle, like you love it,”

You’re breathing deeply, waiting for more. Joel pulls out, then slides back in with ease. He’s still going slow, but with enough force that you grunt when he bottoms out inside you. 

“That’s it,” he purrs. He watches his cock disappear inside you, then pulls out again. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He begins fucking you at a steadier pace, somehow finding a happy medium between gentle and rough. “Feelin’ good?”

You’re at a loss for words. You feel all of him, every stroke so fluid yet firm. It’s nearly perfect. “Yes, Joel. Need more, please,”

“Oh, listen to that. Askin’ me nicely,” he says as he picks up his pace. “See what happens when you’re good to me?”

“Mhm,” you choke out. The way he fucks you is brutally delicious, just how you need it. He knows your body like the back of his hand.

“I promise I only wanna help, sweetheart. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”

You abandon every ounce of protest in your body. Normally you’d bite back to his audaciousness with some quippy remark. But sweet fuck, he does feel good. He knows exactly how to make you dance under his touch, and you relish in the feeling. You almost feel guilty, denying your body this pleasure for so long. “Please, Joel,” is all you can say. And you don’t even know what you’re asking for, you just need Joel and Joel alone. 

“I like you like this, beggin’ for me. So much nicer when I fuck you,” 

The wet squelching sounds of your pussy fill the room, along with both yours and Joel’s heaving breaths. You feel his balls slapping up against your clit with each and every thrust he delivers onto you. 

“Joel, need you,” 

“I’ve got you, baby. What do you need?”

You can barely form words, so you let your body do the talking instead. You pull off of his cock and lay down beneath him, your eyes wide and your legs spread. You pull him down to you, kissing and nipping at his hot skin. Your moans are breathy and you buck your hips up to his, telling him what you need. 

Joel picks up what you’re putting down. He pulls away from you, lining himself up and pushing into you, as if just picking back up where he started. His arms are bracketed on either side of you as he fucks you, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside. It’s too much, you turn your head to the side and bite into his wrist to keep yourself from screaming his name. 

Your pussy squeezes him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. His once precise movements are beginning to falter, and he reaches down between your bodies to find your clit. 

“Not gonna last if you keep doin’ that t’me,” he warns. “I want you to come with me, okay baby?”

You nod, spreading your legs wider and wrapping them around his torso, the heels of your feet digging into his asscheeks. Your hands are holding onto his thick forearms for dear life, you watch the way his veins twitch and flex under your fingers. 

Just like each time he’s fucked you before, it’s almost pathetic the way you come undone for him with such ease. He’s rubbing your clit in steady circles for merely a moment before you come for him, sobbing in pleasure into his skin. When you come, it’s a mixture between explosive and slow. It’s simultaneously fireworks and a pot bubbling over, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. It’s nearly too intense, your eyes screwed shut as you cry his name like a prayer.

It’s all Joel needed to come. His name on your lips, your cunt gushing and squeezing him. He can’t help but spill inside you, shooting hot ropes of his seed inside you as he helps you ride out your orgasm. He collapses on top of you for a moment, pressing sloppy wet kisses into your skin. You hold him close, savoring the way his body feels so comforting on yours. He’s such a fucking dick, but he’s your person. Your home. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers. 

You smile mischievously. You know Joel cares deeply for you, maybe even loves you, but it’s amusing to hear him vocalize that. “You missed me?” 

“Ugh, no,” he lies. 

“Good,” you say. “I didn’t either.”

Joel leaves then to clean you up, then he gets back into bed pulls you into his side, your head resting on his chest. You fall asleep like that, holding each other sweetly in the early hours of the morning. 

Neither you nor Joel never did get much sleep, but at least you were kinder to one another in the morning. No doors or cabinets were slammed in anger, and innocent toasters were free of your verbal abuse.

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