L!!! This Was So Good!

L!!! This was so good! 😍

The ending had me cracking up 🤣

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

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“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

It’s always nice to get a reblog! ❤️

Tumblr Topic - The Importance of Re-blogging: Re-blogs vs Likes.

Hello lovelies,

I wanted to shed and share some info on re-blogging. Perhaps you're new to Tumblr and are not sure what re-blogging is, or means. 🤔

Or perhaps you're a silent lurker here, afraid to start re-blogging because you're not sure how or why you should.

Don't worry, I, and with a little reluctant help from Joel, (Dave has gone on a top secret mission 🤫) have you covered. 🖤

Sorry to interupt your coffee Joel, but we have work to do... chop, chop! 👏🏻

The Like Button ♡

☝🏻First of all let me just start by explaining that Tumblr is not like other social media platforms. The algorithims here are vastly different.

Where you may be used to pushing the like ♡ button over on Instagram, X/Twitter, TikTok etc..., to boost and share the things you like out to a wider audience, Tumblr's like function works very differently.

For a start, it doesn't actually mean you 'like' the post at all. It's simply a way of bookmarking the post.

And it doesn't boost that post to wider audience either.

You'll find the like button on the bottom of each blog post. Here it is circled:

So, what happens when I push the 'like' button, then?

When you hit the like ♡ button on Tumblr, that post is saved, or bookmarked, into your own like list.

Tumblr notifies the original blog poster (OP) that you "liked" their post.

That's it. 😐

That post then gets pushed to the bottom of your like pile each time you like something else. The more things you like, the more that post gets buried and forgotten about.

So, I shouldn't press the like button on Tumblr then?

Absolutely you should! Like I say, it tells the OP you liked it. And if you wanna bookmark things to come back to later, it's a great way of keeping track.

But... there is something else that's more important that you should probably do if you liked their post.

You should re-blog it. (And comment too, The Tumblr Trinity, but we'll cover comments another time.)

Okay, so what's a re-blog? 🤔

A re-blog is you sharing the original creator's post on your own blog. (Not by copy/pasting it into your own post, that's plagiarism, bub. That shit will get you killed. Joke, but it is a big no-no!) But a re-blog allows you to share the post whilst giving credit and recognition to the OP.

At the bottom of every post you'll see this continuing arrow symbol, or ouroboros if you will. 🐍 ('Cause an ouroboros depicts something forever continuing, and if you re-blog something, it's forever continuing... geddit? 🤪)

This is the re-blog button:

By re-blogging it, the algorithm on Tumblr pushes the post into all your follower's orbits and it will appear on their dashboard.

They'll see your re-blog and can either re-blog your re-blog themselves, or click on the OP's post and re-blog it directly from them.

Either way, the original content poster get's notified whenever someone re-blogs their post, as does the person who re-blogged it, if they re-blog from a re-blog - make sense? 🤪

If you simply just 'like' the post and do nothing else, no-one else is notified that you liked the post except the OP, and it goes to die a sad, lonely death at the bottom of your like graveyard. 💀

So, why is re-blogging better than just liking? If I like it, surely that means I like it, right?

Yes, if you like a post it tells the creator you like it, sure. But that's it. There's no other engagement there. It simply tells the creator "Joe Bloggs likes this." That's it. 😕

But by re-blogging the post instead, it tells the creator that "Joe Bloggs liked it so much that they wanna share it and see more from you, dude! Yay! Party in re-blog alley and everyone's invited, woo!" 🎉

You get the point. But it gives the creator that boost to share more of the content you like to see.

The more they share, the more you re-blog, and the more you re-blog, the more they share. Ouroboros, see? (And you thought it was just a snake eating it's own butt...)

🤓 Tumblr is a site that was specifically created for sharing the things you like through re-blogging. That's what makes it different to other social media platforms.

It's a place of engagement, making friends and building communities - all through sharing in the things you love.

If you want a silent and non-engaging platform where you don't have to get involved, then Instagram, X/Twitter etc... is probably the way to go...

But you're here on Tumblr for a reason, right?

Yeah, but if I re-blog everything I like, won't that be annoying? I don't wanna piss people off! 🫣

No. Let's get outta that mindset that sharing things you enjoy is annoying - it isn't.

And if anyone ever says to you to stop re-blogging or liking their stuff so much, then they're probably not understanding the whole point of engagement and sharing on Tumblr...

I guarantee you that if you re-blog something, no-one is gonna be pissed off at you, bub.

So, do I HAVE to re-blog?

Look, no-one is holding a knife to your throat demanding that you must re-blog everything-

Joel, chill my dude. We don't stab our chums here... 🙄

But creators don't share their work for it to be forgotten about or for no-one to engage with it. If we didn't want anyone to see our wacky shit, we wouldn't post it online.

Creators share their work to engage with their followers about it, especially in fandom communities.

Creators make art, GIFs, write stories, share thots thoughts, and share their medium with you so you can enjoy it and share it and get excited about your blorbos together, thus creating a fandom community. 🤝🏻

However, you are not obliged to re-blog or like anything if you don't want to.

We understand there are people who want to just remain silent and prefer to lurk. That's completely okay and creators should never bully you or put pressure on you to do so.

☝🏻It does/will upset us however if you ask/demand more from us when you don't bother to engage or share, FYI... so please bear that in mind. If you want more, show us by re-blogging our work.

We'll always encourage you to simply re-blog what you love, because we wanna share it with you and talk about it and be your friend, and squeal over that broad-shouldered man together. 🥰

So, if I like or re-blog something, how can I find it again?

If you simply 'like' something, you have to manually scroll all the way back through your like list to find it again.

Say you liked 1000 posts. That's a hell of a lot of scrolling you gotta do to find the post you liked, right? And ain't nobody got time for that! 😨

But, if you re-blog the post, you can add tags to it so you can then search for it and find it easily on your own blog.

For example, you re-blogged a cool post about Joel Miller...

Oh, hey Joel. We're talking about you, not to you... as you were, handsome.

You can tag your re-blog 'Joel Miller' when you post it. Then, you can use the search function on your blog, 🔎 type in 'Joel Miller' and every single post you've ever re-blogged using the tag 'Joel Miller' will be found and shown to you.

Ta-da! ✨️ No scrolling for bloody hours to find it.

☝🏻You can also queue up re-blogs if you're worried about continuously re-blogging.

Wait, "queue up" re-blogs? What does that mean? 😶

Say you found 12 posts of Joel Miller you like and want to re-blog, you don't have to re-blog them all at once, one after another.

You can queue them up by adding them to your queue to be posted a few hours, days, weeks, months, or even years apart.

Queuing re-blogs also keeps the original post circulating (ouroboros 🐍). And creators will often use queued re-blogs when creating content in bulk to save time and not to flood their followers with too much content at once.

☝🏻There's no limit to the amount of times you can re-blog a post too. So if you really love that post about Joel's, uh, bulge 😏 you can re-blog it again and again.

You can only ever like a post once though. Boo. 👎🏻

So, re-blogging is the way to go then, right?

Absolutely. It makes creators very happy.

And will also make your dash very happy too as when you re-blog something, Tumblr will suggest more content that's similar to it for you to enjoy.

So if you reaaaally like Joel Miller, (and who doesn't? 🫠) your whole dash can be filled with him! Bulge ahoy! 🍆🫡

He likes the sound of that really...

🗨You can also add comments to your re-blog too...

Wait, comments?? 🤯

Yep! You can free type in the space at the bottom of the original post, and the OP will see this and is able to respond to it by re-blogging again.

You can even have a whole conversation through re-blogs if you want to. And others can be tagged to join in too for even more fun mayhem! 🤗

So if you really liked that Joel Miller fanfic you just read, you can type your thoughts into the re-blog itself.

And FYI, creators LOVE comments. (I'll cover comments and tagging in another post. Don't worry, I got you.)

And Joel just loves fun too, don't you, Joel?

So, I hope that gives you a better understanding on what re-blogging is and why it's so vital on Tumblr and in fandom communities.

If you found this post helpful in any way, then you now know what to do, right?

Re-blog it! 😁

Thanks so much for reading, and I'll catch you next time in another Tumblr Topic post. Stay kind and keep it creamy. 🖤

HELP & COMPANY MASTERLIST

AHHHHH!!!! This was so fucking hot!!!!!

🥵🫠🥵🫠🥵

Starlet

Dieter Bravo x Co-Star x Wife Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better. Warnings: PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls. Words: 3,750

A/N: This has been a labor of love and horniness. You should all just automatically know I'm thanking @ohheypedrito for always being my sounding board. Also @magpiepills for sharing in my MFF joy. Shout out to "Kiss Me More" by Doja Cat & SZA.

Masterlist

___

Fancy hotel suites might just be the biggest perk of marrying a Hollywood superstar. Room service whenever you want, plush robes to relax in, a balcony view of Los Angeles’ glimmering lights, and a large plush bed perfect to fit two… or three bodies.

Sure, you could have stayed home and waited for the car service to bring Dieter home after the premiere, but when the studio offers a free hotel suite, you and Dieter happily accept. You love to get fucked by your husband in a new bed. 

You’ve just dove into your new book, laid out on the chaise lounge of the balcony, sunning yourself in the early evening Summer sun when your phone dings with its customary Dieter ding. 

He should be getting ready for the movie premiere; what does he need to tell you?

You unlock your phone to a pic of Dieter sadly pointing to a large brown stain on his crisp, light blue shirt. 

Baby, this just happened.  Did you pack a backup? Nope. Do you have anything of mine here? Just your old Rage Against The Machine shirt I was wearing earlier.  Sold. I’ll take it. I’ll send Julien up to grab it.  Go have him buy a shirt. It has holes… and I’m wearing it right now.  Nope. Now that I thought of me heaving your scent on me all night, I need to wear it. Spray it with that perfume you use… Fine. You win. I’ll change. Love you baby. xoxo

You wonder why his team of publicists, assistants, and agents let Dieter style himself… or why they never remember to pack him an extra shirt.

He’s the love of your life, your uber famous partner, deserving of all of the rekindled fame, now sober and in the best place he’s been, thanks in large amounts to your influence.

You walked into his life weeks after his divorce, a man lost with a floundering career. He was too dangerous to work with, too manic, too unreliable. Then, you came in and helped pick his life up, as a favor to your friend Chrissy, his tenacious agent. You’re never supposed to fall in love with a client, but Dieter was just too irresistibly charming. You fucked him in your office after his third session. All of that hard work and student debt that earned you a psychology degree ended up getting you a diamond on your left ring finger and a dream wedding full of Hollywood elites.

You shimmy out of the faded black shirt, spritzing it with your signature perfume and folding it for Julien to expeditiously deliver back to your husband. 

___

Your phone is propped up against a crystal vase that probably costs more than your first car streaming the red carpet premiere and Q&A of Dieter’s newest movie. You chose to sit this gigantic blockbuster event out, but it doesn’t mean you can’t support him from the comfort of this five star hotel room.

Your heart skips when the camera pans to Dieter getting out of the car. There he is, your celluloid husband, clad in all black, wearing the holey t shirt he just fucked you in before leaving you this afternoon.

The barriered crowd goes wild when they spot him. He smiles that megawatt smile, his signature dimples pressing into his golden skin. He’s so fucking beautiful.

You’re so proud of Dieter, you can hardly believe your husband is the star of the biggest summer film, standing tall and handsome with flash bulbs sparking across his face. You’re enamored by him, even when he’s a tiny square being live-streamed through your phone.

He joins his co-stars for a quick interview, his famous charm and humor is on full display, the crowd, host and co stars all laugh at his jokes. He truly is the golden boy of the red carpet.

You wonder if anybody else notices how he reaches for the hand of Greta, the actress who plays his wife in the film, when he realizes she’s nervous, much the same way he grabs your hand when you get anxious, being dragged to Hollywood parties and random awards shows. He’s always so thoughtful.

The interviewer asks Greta what it was like to act along with Dieter and play his wife. She laughs and blushes, Dieter’s arm rubs up and down her back, cuddling her closer to his body as she explains how wonderful of a man he is, how she felt very lucky to star in a movie with him. 

She’s absolutely stunning in her form fitting gold dress, you’re watching all of this for your husband and yet Greta keeps stealing your attention, lean, elegant, and absolutely radiant. You think to yourself how badly you want to fuck her. 

Dieter and the crew wave to the crowd and cameras thanking everybody for attending the red carpet, you smile at the sight of his gold wedding band before shutting the app down and opening the room service menu. It’ll be two hours until you hear from him after the movie. Time for an episode of Dateline.

___

You’re in a post grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup coma, the cops have just solved the triple homicide in the sleepy New England town when your phone beeps with the Dieter ding. 

Movie’s out. have to deal with after party then back to u. Miss u like crazy xoxoix !! Hi! Have fun!  Did u watch the red carpet? I did. You looked fucking hot.  Ya? I actually liked the shirt, it made me think of this afternoon… Me too baby Greta looked amazing, I was almost watching her more than you. Don’t you think she looked good? Of course I did  I think she likes you… saw a video on Twitter that makes me really see the goddamn chemistry you wouldn’t shut up about during filming. She said i smelled good tonight I told her ur the one to thank She can smell me anytime she wants. 😮 baby... Tell me D, do you miss kissing her now that filming is over? I know how you look at her, I’ve seen the previews and press appearances. Go ahead and tell me, baby.  dunno about miss, but i did like kissing her What if I were to ask you to kiss her tonight… 😮 Oh? And film it for me.  ohhhhhhhhh I can do that for you baby Go find her then.  I’ll be waiting God baby I’m glad i married you Xoxo

The giddiness that courses through your body makes a big smile bloom across your face. You sit back against the soft cushions and imagine Dieter tucking his phone in his pocket and setting forth on his mission. Waiting for it is so hot.

___

The Dieter ding buzzes. You’ve never been this excited to pick your phone up.

Dieter Bravo Attachment: 1 Movie

Your hands are practically shaking when you touch the little bubble on your phone. There, in the freeze frame stands your husband and his beautiful co-star.

You hit play.

Greta smiles at the camera before she purrs out, “Hi, Dieter says this is for you.”

She’s so beautiful in the dim video, her silver eyeshadow glistens under the flash, her big blue eyes already look blown out with lust; you wish you were the one who was about to kiss her plush lips. If she’s willing to do this for him, you don’t doubt for a second how attracted she is to your husband. Dieter winks at the camera before turning to Greta, clutching his hand on her cheek and sealing his lips against hers. It’s… so fucking hot. You can hear the distant sound of laughter and conversation of the party goers just below the sounds of Dieter and Greta’s tongues tangling. You wish you could taste both of them, now you’re really regretting staying back. The camera grows more unsteady the deeper the kiss grows. He sucks her bottom lip, you can almost feel the slight tinge of pain, god you want to feel it. Dieter pulls away, and turns Greta’s face towards the camera. 

“You want to kiss my wife, Starlet?”

“I do,” she answers. 

Dieter lets out a low chuckle before winking at the camera and ending the recording. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re already soaked from that short video.

Dieter has been so good during his sober journey, being honest and forthright when he's tempted, allowing the help of counselors and his Narcotics Anonymous sponsor. You've stood by his side as he's made huge strides to conquer his addictions. His old vices are now replaced by a new vice... sex. You're so proud of him, you want to reward him... and yourself.

Jesus Christ D.  U like? Can’t stop thinking about u watching that video baby I like it… a lot. Fuck!  Greta wants to kiss me? Think she wants u more than she wants me... I’d like to meet her. I’d like you to meet her too baby Is she busy after the party? Seems like tonight would be a good night for us to meet. Maybe she wants to come back to our room?  If that’s what u want baby It’s what I want D. Okay baby 

___

The click of the keycard entering the lock alerts you to Dieter and Greta’s arrival. You rise from the couch, smoothing out the wrinkles of your simple blue dress. 

“Hi baby,” Dieter smiles, his eyes twinkling with adoration. 

Greta follows him in, she’s even more beautiful in real life. 

“Hi,” Greta smiles, her eyes spark with lust as she looks you up and down. “Nice to finally meet you.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “you too.”

Dieter’s head bobbles back and forth, caught up in the chemistry that sparks between his wife and his co-star.

There is so much anxiety coursing through you but the sheer desire for Dieter and Greta easily obscures any second thoughts. 

He walks over to you, planting a searing kiss on your lips and wraps you in his strong arms. 

“I missed you baby,” he says before kissing you. He pulls away, his soft, brown eyes roam your face. “Are you sure about this?”

You glance at Greta, focusing on her soft pink lips. “Extremely.”

“Excellent. Now, come here, let me show you off to her,” he grabs your hand and leads you to the middle of the room. “Want to show you my girl, starlet, go ahead and take a seat.” 

Greta sits on the sofa, settling in her dazzling golden dress. You feel underdressed compared to her beautiful designer clothing and Dieter’s close to perfect look. No paparazzi in their right mind would want pictures of you in your pale blue dress, but the way Greta’s eyes roam your body and the way Dieter runs his hands up your back and grabs your ass, you feel like you just won an Oscar.

“See her tits?” Dieter wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts in his hands cupping around the silk of your dress. “They feel so fucking good in my hands, they’re so soft and bounce in my face so perfectly when she rides me. You want to see her tits starlet?” 

Greta nods.

He slips the straps of your dress down your arms exposing your breasts to the cool hotel air and Greta’s eyes. 

He pulls you against his body, grinding his crotch against you moving his hands back up to cup the weight of your breasts.

Greta watches, blue eyes wide as Dieter pinches and pulls at the peaks of your nipples. 

“Watch this starlet,” he lifts his hand and softly smacks one of your breasts, causing a moan to leave your lips, your body falls even harder against his body. “She fucking loves when I do this.”

His hands snake down your torso, pushing your dress to fall down and pool at your feet leaving you bare naked for Greta to see. 

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, as her eyes travel over your naked form. 

“Isn’t she magnificent, starlet?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Quite.”

Dieter walks forward, pushing you towards the couch Greta sits on, still looking just like she walked off the red carpet, perfectly put together like a goddess.

He stops at the marble coffee table, grabbing your leg and lifting it to perch on the top. 

His wide hand runs up your leg and pets your thigh.

“You like my wife?” his voice is low and rumbly against you. There's a bit of possessiveness to it.

“I do, she’s gorgeous.”

“She is. Isn’t she?” he says with pride.

His hand moves closer to your pussy, now dripping for him and your guest. “See, starlet, this is my pussy,” your body tenses as he dips a finger through your folds, “and she’s fucking soaked for me.” He brings his finger dripping with your wet to his lips and licks it, a moan leaves his lips when he tastes you. “Come here and taste her.”

Greta rises from the couch, walking over to stand next to Dieter. She's even more exquisite up close.

His hand returns to your pussy, petting and rubbing making you weak in the knees. 

“She’s so fucking wet for us, starlet.” 

You whimper at the sensation of the hard stone of his ring rubbing against your clit. He pulls his hand away, admiring the way your wetness stretches across his fingers.

His fingers are placed against Greta’s lips. She opens her mouth wide, accepting his drenched digits, Dieter groans as she licks your juices off of his skin. 

Just four hours ago, they were watching the premiere of their movie together while you watched a rerun of Dateline… now the three of you are locked in the beginning of a ménage à trois. Isn’t it funny how Hollywood works?

__

Conversation flows easily between the three of you. You love the way Greta teases Dieter, how she laughs at your jokes. She fits perfectly in to your married comfortability.

You’re naked atop Dieter's lap, Greta sits next to you, her hand rests on your thigh lightly petting it almost as an ever present reminder of what the three of you are here to do. You can’t believe how comfortable you are in this situation. 

“Shall we take this to the bed?” Greta offers as you and her share a glass of champagne. Dieter happily sips his Topo Chico, his eyes lit with mirth watching his wife and friend enjoy each other’s company. 

“I’d like that,” you say, turning to her and downing the rest of the glass of bubbly champagne.

“Great,” she smiles, standing up and slinking off her gold dress before laying on the bed and taking her panties off.

“She is… tenacious, isn’t she?” you muse as Dieter hugs you close and kisses your shoulder. 

“She is,” he chuckles.

“You ready?” he asks.

“I’m ready,” you get up from Dieter’s lap, he rises behind you before turning you to face him.

He holds your face in his hands, his brown eyes rounded with softness, an adoring grin on his face. “You really want to do this baby?”

You bark a laugh out. “Honey, she’s already naked in bed, of course I do.”

His eyes darken, his grin replaced with a searing smolder, the same smolder that drives millions of women and men crazy, “I love you.”

“I love you too, now let me eat her cunt while you watch.”

“Jesus, alright baby,” he grabs your hand, leading you to bed before removing his shirt and pants. He takes a seat on the chair by the window to observe.

Greta lays in front of you, splayed out amongst the white sheets, her skin looks so creamy and delectable. You climb over her, smelling the sweet scent of her perfume. She giggles when you knock your nose against hers, a giddy smile is shared between the two of you before locking lips. Kissing her is different from kissing Dieter, gentler, sweeter, softer. Her tongue is much smaller, her whimpers and breaths pitch higher. You lay your body against hers, fuck, she’s just as soft as you thought. Velvety smooth and sweet. Your breasts sit against hers, your soft and her soft resting against each other. Your pussy and hers radiate heat against one another when you angle your hips against hers. You kiss a line down to her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin… she faintly tastes of sugary coconut. You look over at Dieter while kissing, he winks before you stick your tongue out and lick one of her nipples. Delicious. 

God, her tits are perfect. Perky, a little pointy, pink nipples the same exact shade of cherry blossoms, your favorite flowers. Your tongue runs across the small valley between her breasts, sliding across each nipple and back. Sucking hard against each, latching your mouth around it before letting it go with a pop. She’s writhing on the bed from your mouth and hands, your self esteem rockets higher as she loses herself under your touch. 

Her smooth body runs along yours, her delicate hands grab at your skin, clawing and pressing the harder you suck her skin. 

You kiss a trail down her tight stomach, licking grabbing her long legs and spreading them wide to reveal her perfect, milky skin surrounding her pussy. She’s drenched, absolutely dripping with her arousal, you lick up the spilled wetness on the bed sheets before licking up to her pussy. Her bright blue eyes focus on your mouth as you envelop her cunt with it. Buttery smooth and soaked, you taste the familiar hint of coconut in her wetness. Perfect. 

Your tongue dashes against her clit, flattening and swirling, treating her like the glamorous Hollywood star she is by worshiping her beautiful body and cunt. Your tongue licks a line down her sweetness before darting into her sweet hole.

You feel the bed dip behind you, your heart explodes with the thrill of feeling Dieter’s broad body behind you, a large hand digs between your thighs, dipping two thick fingers into your cunt, opening you up for him. His thumb swishes across your clit, your tongue attempts to duplicate his movements against Greta’s pussy. He angles his digits perfectly, hitting that perfect sensitive spot inside of you, causing you to dive even further against Greta’s heat, trying to take every single drop of sweet nectar from her body. You cum all over Dieter’s hands, moaning and whimpering against Greta’s skin. 

Greta clenches around you, her hips grind against your mouth as you lick an orgasm out of her. Your arms reach up to grab her tits and knead them in your hands. 

“That’s my baby,” Dieter coos, pulling his hand from your pussy and slapping it against your ass, causing a loud moan to rumble against Greta's cunt.

He pulls your hips up, your bottom meets the rigid skin of his cock. He taps his thick member against your ass before spreading your legs, you bring two fingers to Greta’s leaking hole waiting for Dieter to take you so you can take her. His thick cock enters you, stretching you with that sweet sting you love to feel. Your fingers mirror his actions, slow pumps in and out of Greta, scissoring to stretch her like Dieter stretches you matching the rhythm of his movements.

His hand splays across your back, petting your spine as he starts slowly, languidly fucking you. The three of you dance to a sensual song, grunts and moan chorusing across the sound of your fingers and Dieter’s cock. It’s beautiful.

You happily suffocate against her pussy, licking through her folds and fucking her with your fingers while Dieter fills your slippery cunt. Your moans are muffled by her skin, Dieter’s grunts echo his thrusts. 

Your body is slick with sweat, face soaked in Greta’s arousal, your cunt clenches around your husband's cock, your tongue sits steady against Greta's pussy as Dieter fucks an orgasm out of you. He holds your shaking hips close as he tells you how good you're taking him, how much he loves watching you eat Greta's pussy.

“This is all–nyugh–for you baby,” he groans, as he pulls out, Greta catches you in her arms as your body falls without his support. “Roll over, roll over baby,” he hoarsely gasps as he strokes his cock. You move to lay on your back, Dieter pulls your legs wide open right before he paints your pussy with his thick white ropes.

Dieter rises off the bed on shaky legs, before flopping his naked body into the chair. “Go on starlet, clean my girl up.”

She moves quickly, like she can’t wait to taste the two of you, settling between your thighs, lifting your legs over her delicate shoulders, spreading you wide open for her mouth. Greta’s breathy moan against your cunt makes your back arch while her tongue cleans your cunt covered in Dieter’s seed. She dips a finger into your entrance, swirling it around your sensitive walls, her one finger is nothing compared to your husband’s thick cock but god, does her gentle touch drive you wild. Her mouth seals over your clit, kissing and sucking your swollen bundle of nerves. Her head rises and lowers with each pump of your hips into the air, dancing right along with you as your pussy rises to another crescendo of an orgasm. You turn your head to look at Dieter, naked with his legs spread wide, sitting like a king on a throne. He mouths “I love you,” out of the lips you crave to kiss as your body tightens and releases with another climax.

Greta brings her lips to yours, licking into your mouth leaving the intoxicating swirl of flavors of your wetness and Dieter’s cum against your tongue. She breathily chuckles at your long exhale before laying next to you, pushing her soft curves against you and hooking her leg over yours. 

Dieter walks over, naked and cocky, your superstar husband is in full effect even in the aftershock of your threesome. He kisses Greta’s cheek and whispers “thanks starlet” before leaning over, kissing your lips and cupping your cheek. “I love you baby,” he says, big brown eyes staring into yours. You return his smile before he turns towards the minibar and grabs a Kit Kat. Greta cuddles in closer to you on the bed, sometimes it’s good to have a movie star husband. 

Oh my heart!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

This was so beautiful!

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: it's been years since Dieter last saw you, his childhood friend and the unrequited love of his life. still, he doesn’t blame you for leaving.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!childhood friend!reader

warnings: angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic. w.c: 1.0k

an: for @punkshort AU August writing challenge, I was given the prompt, “childhood friend with Dieter Bravo” thank you so much for hosting! huge thanks to @ghotifishreads for letting me talk your ear off about this little idea that took on a life of it's own and for reading this over. ilu!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Dieter rubs a hand over his face as he steps from the SUV into a throng of flashing lights and frantic screaming. It was the premiere of his first directorial and writing debut; a lot was riding on this.

Sure, he'd won an Oscar and various other award nominations, but this was an entirely different beast. This movie was special to him. It was the first script he wrote after getting "clean." He always scoffed at that word. Clean. Was he pure and holy now simply because he kicked hard drugs to the curb?

He takes a deep, slow breath, adjusts his velvet purple suitcoat, and moves down the red carpet. He autographs cards and pictures, takes selfies, and banters with a few fans before moving on to the press.

It doesn't feel right being here alone, he thinks, his left side feeling raw and exposed like a wound that never healed. 

After rewriting the script several times, he has his assistant mail it to a few studio execs before having them print out one last copy. He wrote down your name and told them to send you the script. He wanted to deliver it to you in person; it felt like the right thing to do, but he couldn't be sure you ever wanted to see him again after what he put you through.

He's stronger these days. Mentally and physically healthier. He's lost a bit of weight now that he's no longer downing pills and chasing them with alcohol. It took him a while to get used to feeling again. Sitting with the uncomfortable thoughts and not letting them take control. He's proud of himself. He thinks you would be, too. 

You.

Seeing a large open field littered with red flowers while driving home from rehab for the second time kicked him square in the gut. Flashes of his youth came back in vivid, blinding colors.

Chasing his dog, Dali, around the yard. Playing with you in the field of wildflowers behind your house. His throat tightens.

You.

You were his reason. The sun he revolved around—inseparable childhood friends.

When you first met Dieter, he was covered in chalk dust, drawing funky, green aliens with big eyes on the sidewalk in front of his childhood home. You'd just moved in next door, and your Mother told you to go make friends. He looked at you in awe as you stood before him, the sun creating a golden crown around your head. "Wanna be friends?" you blurted before kneeling and pestering him about his chalk alien.

From that moment on, you were forever linked. Dieter never wanted anyone else.

From scabbed knees and hide & seek to strange body changes and long school days. Consoling Dieter after he's pushed into a locker, copying each other's homework, watching Dieter shine on the theater stage, and spending almost every minute together that you could.

He wondered if you ever felt the love he held for you—the love that surpassed sibling bonds and grew stronger every time he laid eyes on you. The love that made him self-conscious and shy away from speaking his truth despite years of yearning. He couldn't convince himself to jeopardize the friendship or that you might possibly feel the same.

Cut to Dieter asking you to move to LA with him to be his assistant once his star power steadily rose. 

To the elaborate movie sets and lavish premieres, to the long nights and unspoken feelings. 

To find Dieter on the floor with vomit spilling from his lips to the empty bottles of pills and booze splayed around his Hollywood Hills home. 

The bickering, the raging parties, and the friendship that was slowly dying. 

The shell of a man he used to be. 

You were never around when he needed you the most after he drowned himself in booze and pills. He never blamed you. He was often inebriated, covered in a mess of sweat and other fluids. You could only stand to see him self-medicate for so long. 

"I can't keep doing this," he remembers you saying as tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled while he sat in a crumpled heap at the foot of his unmade bed with that usual glazed look. "I can't keep trying to save you."

He remembers wanting to argue, to save whatever piece was left. He tried to chase after you, but his brain and body were still under the haze from the night before, limbs heavy as lead weights, and they no longer listened to his commands. 

How your face twisted with a devastating sadness made his heart shatter. He never meant this to happen, for it to get this bad.

Had Dieter known the repercussions, that the last image he'd have of you would be wiping fallen tears that he caused from your cheeks, he would've gotten clean eons before. He would've let this version of himself die without a second thought. He wanted to be the man you counted on, with your best interests at heart. 

The man you knew him to be.

—

Just as he's about to step into the theater, he hears a voice call his name—a voice that would wake him from the dead. 

You.

His heart aches; it bursts with unnerving energy as he watches you approach. His gaze never leaves you as you glide across the room to where he stands, frozen. Could he be hallucinating?

"Hi D," his nickname sounds like heaven as it leaves your lips. He never wants it to end; he wants to hear it forever. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner. I needed to make sure I was in a good headspace to see you again." You nervously wring your fingers, and Dieter can't stop himself from reaching out and locking your hands together, calming your combined anxious energy.

"It's okay," he whispers, throat tight, holding back elated tears, "I'm glad you're here."

A smile tugs at your lips, eyes shiny with your own tears. "Me too."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her -  that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you 

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily. 

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James. 

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling. 

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

😭😭😭

This was absolutely beautiful!!! I have missed these two so much! ❤️❤️❤️ I feel like my heart is absolutely bursting!!!!

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."