I Am Mohammed Ayyad, I Am 17 Years Old, High School Student, I Have 7 Brothers, Including 4 Girls And

‏I am mohammed Ayyad, I am 17 years old, high school student, I have 7 brothers, including 4 girls and 3 boys and my mother.

‏Since the beginning of the war, my family and I have been displaced 4 times, each time more severe than the other.

‏The first is from Gaza City to Khan Yunis, and the second is from Khan Yunis to the shores of Bahr Khan Yunis, then to the city of Rafah, and then to an area called Al Qarara .

‏My house was completely destroyed , everything is under the rubble my childhood, my memories, my books, and my ambition and Many relatives and friends were killed and life was completely destroyed.

‏ so l please you to help me and help my family collect donations to evacuation the war zone, get out of Gaza safely, and complete my school studies, via my donation link.

‏‎

Donation link if you can!

I loved this so much!!!! 😍😍😍😍

Love me some soft!Dave 🥰

The Prenup (dave york x f!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

dave york x f!reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Rating: E

Summary: You and David York are two of the top divorce lawyers in Boston and are on opposite sides of a high-profile divorce. Both of you are at of the top of your game and have never lost a case. How will you navigate your feelings, as your personal and professional life intertwines?

Warning: sexual tension, flirting, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, mutual pining, smutty flashbacks (oral – f receiving, and p in v sex), emotional cheating? language, sexual touching, nipple play, smidge daddy kink (papi), dirty talk, praise, oral (f – receiving), implied p & v sex

A/N: This is my contribution for Shortie's AU Challenge. I am channeling my inner Shortie; she always blesses us with long one-shots and so I decided to make this WAY longer than necessary. In order not to spoil too much, I include more of my thoughts at the bottom of this one-shot. P.S. David York is slept on in this fandom. We need more Dave. Justice for Dave. He’s not the Pedro boy that gets the most engagement but you best believe I inhale Dave York content. I can at least promise that this story is less angsty than my Riddles one-shot.

@punkshort

xx

Boston, Massachusetts

"Order in the court! I expect professional behavior from both counsel."

You leaned over the table, a smirk tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. Your eyebrows arched in playful defiance. "Your Honor, I find it hard to believe that my colleague can actually think my client's request for a fair division of assets is unreasonable. The prenup clearly outlines significant financial disparities."

There was a slight curl in your lips, as you shot a glance at David.

David folded his arms, leaning back, his posture exuding an air of confidence that only amplified your irritation.  "Oh please. The prenup was signed willingly. This isn’t some poorly drafted agreement meant to confuse an unsuspecting spouse. You're making it sound like my client ambushed yours with a signed blank check."

His tone was casual, but his piercing stare ignited a flicker of annoyance in you.

You rolled your eyes, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand to keep calm. "In clear language, the prenup asserts that the assets acquired during the marriage should be shared equitably, especially given the increased at home contributions my client made."

You leaned in slightly, trying to assert your point, and fighting the reflex to slap David across the face. He was insufferable.

David leaned forward, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, as if he thrived on the tension. "Increased contributions? Or should we say—you’re overstepping the boundaries of what was agreed upon, possibly driven by desperation? How does it feel to lose control over such a simple matter?"

His arrogance made you want to roll your eyes again, but it only infuriated you more to admit how effortlessly attractive he was, the way his eyes glinted with challenge.

Judge McCall sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need you both to stop this sparring. Focus on presenting your evidence and keep your arguments above board, please."

You smirked, unable to resist a final jab, your voice smooth with a hint of sarcasm. "You’re right, Your Honor. I wouldn’t want to outshine my opposing counsel with simple logic and reason."

It felt satisfying to deflate his bravado, even if only momentarily, as you savored the incredulity that flickered across his face.

"Logic? That's rich coming from you. But I appreciate your attempt. It’s adorable." David said with a cocky grin.

Your irritation spiked, a mixture of anger and unwelcome attraction flooding your senses.

"I will hold this court in recess until both of you can conduct yourselves like the professionals you claim to be." Judge McCall recited, his authority cutting through the tension with an audible snap.

The gavel struck down, echoing through the still air, and David shot you a playful glare, a smirk still taunting his lips. You had never lost a case in your entire career, and neither had David. You both knew the courtroom was only part of the battle, and the real game was just beginning.

xx

The door to your office opened with a soft click, and the ambiance shifted as David strode in with an air of confidence. His tailored suit trailed the sharp edge of professionalism, but the way he leaned casually against the doorframe suggested an unspoken familiarity with the space.

"You know," he began, his tone light yet persuasive, "I think we both know how this could end. I hate to say it, but dragging this out in court might not do wonders for your reputation." He raised an eyebrow playfully, his voice dropping into a more intimate register. "I wouldn't want to see you embarrass yourself,”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his audacity, a blend of annoyance and intrigue igniting within you. “Are you suggesting I just roll over, David, I thought you were my opposition, not my advisor,” you shot back, with a playful tilt of your lips.

He took a slow step closer, the tension thickening as he casually brushed a nonexistent speck off his sleeve. "Oh, I'm just saying," he replied, maintaining eye contact, "sometimes less is more. Why put on a show when we both know the outcome will be the same?"

The words hung in the air, laced with subtext, and you felt the familiar heat rise within you. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs, an instinctive response to his proximity. He walked further into your office, the heels of his polished shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. “Let’s talk about the upcoming court date. It would be much more—shall we say—expedient for both of us if you considered settling,”

You met his gaze fiercely, your heart racing despite yourself. “We’re not settling,” you said as you broke the gaze and focused on the papers on your desk.

“I’d hate to see you standing before Judge McCall trying to explain why you pushed for something that was never going to be achievable.”

“And what’s your angle here, David?

He chuckled softly. “No angle, I just think settling would be much more dignified, don’t you think?”

“You call it dignity, I call it capitulation.”

“Maybe. But consider this: sometimes surrendering is the real strength,” he countered, inching closer. The scent of his cologne filled the air, warm and inviting, mixing with the tension spiraling between you both.

“You’re making it hard for me to keep this cordial,” you quipped, crossing your arms defensively.

“Cordiality is boring, sweetheart,” David replied.

You tilted your head. “And here I thought we were supposed to be adversaries. Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Only when I think you can handle it,” he shot back with a grin.

“Let’s just stick to business, shall we?” you finally said, clearing your throat, but the breathlessness leaking into words contradicted your polished demeanor.

“Of course,” David replied, his smirk lingering as he stepped back, though the heat of the moment hadn't faded. “But I’ll be waiting for your call about that settlement.”

A smile danced at the corner of your lips. “Don’t hold your breath,”

David turned around to leave your office. “Hey,” he said casually, glancing back over his shoulder. “Make sure to say hello to your husband for me.”

You started twirling with your wedding ring and looked at the framed photograph that stood prominently among the clutter on your desk. It captured a joyful moment: your husband, with his infectious smile, and your two kids, their faces alight with laughter as they played in a sun-drenched park.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you can tell your wife I send my apologies,” you shot back.

With a wink, he replied, "I'll make sure to do that," before stepping out, leaving the moment hanging in the air.

Later that night in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through your curtains, you laid nestled in the warm cocoon of your bed, your eyelids growing heavy as the day's thoughts began to dissolve into a soothing haze.

As your drifted nearer to the edge of sleep, your husband quietly slipped into the room, and laid himself beside you, pressing his chest against your back, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours.

He held you close, tracing delicate patterns on your shoulder and you smiled faintly in your sleep, as you dreamt of David.

xx

“You're referring to the alleged infidelity?” you sighed, during the divorce deposition.

“Alleged? She was having sex with him in the guest room,” David’s client, Brian shouted.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Brian's outburst hung heavily in the air. You could almost see the gears turning in David's head as he prepared to capitalize on this. “The infidelity is a clear breach of the marital agreement. Susan’s actions demonstrate a blatant disregard for the exclusivity of their marriage as agreed upon in the prenup,”

“So, you are saying that infidelity requires financial penalty?” you responded.

David nodded.

“Using your reasoning, any infidelity on your client’s part... would have to be held against him as well.”

“What are you suggesting?” David said.

You leaned forward, a determination sparking behind your eyes as you countered, "While infidelity might affect a court's perception of asset distribution and alimony in some cases, we must consider the full scope of the situation,” You turned to Brian and your voice dripped with feigned innocence. “Brian, why don’t you enlighten us about the child you’ve recently fathered?"

The room went silent, and David's confident demeanor cracked, just for a moment. Confusion flitted across his face, followed by a dawning realization that spoke volumes. He looked between you and Brian as he tried to piece together the implications.

Brian, setting his jaw, shifted uncomfortably in his chair looking anywhere but at David. The silent admission echoed ominously around the room, and you could feel the tide turning.

David's expression morphed from baffled to outright shock. It was evident he had no knowledge of this fact, and you could barely suppress the satisfaction bubbling within you.

You allowed yourself a small smirk, relishing the moment of vulnerability in David’s otherwise poised structure. “It seems,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice, “that the narrative of infidelity might be more complex than David presents.

The tension in the room was palpable as Brian finally broke the silence. “I need a minute,” he muttered, rising from his chair. His voice was strained, and you could see the torrent of emotions battling within him as he hastily exited the room.

As the door clicked shut behind Brian, the tension in the room hung like a thick fog. You could hear the faint rustle of paper and the slight shift of chairs as Susan looked towards you, her smile massive.

“I need to use the restroom,” she said quietly, standing up. With a nod, she disappeared through the door, leaving you and David alone.

Once the door was fully closed, you straightened in your chair and produced a set of settlement papers from your briefcase. You slid the papers across the table toward David, maintaining eye contact, your expression earnest.

“You should consider working with Brian to get these signed.”

David arched an eyebrow, his earlier confidence returning. “And why would I do that?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

“Because,” you said, your tone measured, “the veil of infidelity has grown quite thin. The implications of Brian’s recent revelation could shift the entire landscape of this case,”

"You think I’m that easily swayed? Just because of this,”

“Not swayed, David,” you clarified, your voice steady. “But consider the risk. With Brian's infidelity on the table, the courts will take a more compassionate view on Susan’s actions, especially if she can demonstrate that her infidelity was a response to his. You must be aware that it’s not just about the stark facts; it’s about perception.”

David laughed lightly, though there was a hint of incredulity in it. “You think I’m going to roll over just because you’ve pulled a few tricks? I’m not going to settle. I’m prepared for court.”

With a casual flick of your pen, you leaned back in your chair, fully aware that it was David who now had to rethink his strategy. You were about to respond and tell him how ridiculous he was being when you felt a sudden vibration of your phone that disrupted your focus.

You glanced at the caller ID and your expression shifted, a fleeting moment of apprehension before you answered. It was your best friend, and she never called you during work unless it was important. You saw that she had previously texted you the words: “SOS”

 "Hey, what’s up?" you said, your voice steady, masking the tension that was beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. As her words spilled through the receiver, your gaze drifted, the papers in front of you blurring into the background.

Though you tried to maintain composure, you felt your anger rising. Your jaw tightened and your grip on the phone became a little too intense—a subconscious attempt to anchor yourself against the rising tide of emotions. The corner of your mouth twitched, materializing a thin, forced smile in response to the painful snippets you were hearing. You were usually an expert at concealing distress, but the cracks were starting to show.

Across the desk, David, a perceptive observer, noticed the change in your demeanor. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

You opened your mouth, preparing a response, but the weight of your best friend’s revelation hung heavy in the air. “I… I have to go,” you finally said, your voice a touch unsteady.

Without waiting for a reply, you ended the call, your fingers shaking ever so slightly as you set the phone down. You grabbed your things with a sense of urgency, your thoughts racing as you struggled to mask the emotional storm that threatened to break free.

As you hastily gathered your belongings, your mind still reeling from your best friend’s news. Before you could even process what was happening, David moved around the table.

In a moment that felt surreal, he reached out and cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was unexpected, and your heart raced—not from fear, but from an unbidden rush of conflicting emotions. There was no mistaking the intensity in his eyes; they held something that lingered just below the surface. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

For a fleeting second, you were taken aback, caught in an emotional whirlpool, the boundaries of professionalism blurring. But just as quickly as it had begun, it all came crashing down. Feeling an impulse to restore the distance between you both, you pulled away, your heart pounding in your ears.

“David,” you said, your voice firm but still trembling from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. “This isn’t the time for this,” you said, desperate to reestablish the professional tone.

Reaching for the door, you paused for a moment and just as you were about to turn the knob, you turned around.

“Just sign the papers,” You gestured to the settlement papers spread across the table.

xx

As you stepped through the front door, the familiar scents of home wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The sound of upbeat music filled the air, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the floor. Curiosity piqued, you followed the sound into the living room.

You found your mother in workout gear, energetically following along with an intense fitness video. The living room was transformed into a makeshift gym, with colorful mats spread out and water bottles conveniently placed nearby.

As your mother turned, sweat glistening on her forehead, her eyes landed on you with a mixture of shock and amusement. "You’re early… and you look like shit!" she exclaimed, barely missing a beat in her workout routine.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you leaned against the doorframe. "Thanks, Mom,”

"You know my friends and I are having a lip party later. I know you’re not into that, but you can join us if you want. Raul takes the fat out of our butts and injects it into our lips."

"That gives a whole new meaning to talking out of your ass," you shot back, laughing lightly.

Your mother with her mismatched socks and wild hair, always had a way of saying quirky things that would catch most people off guard—but you were used to it. At just sixteen, she became a mother herself, cast out by her parents, left to navigate a world that felt impossibly large and unforgiving. She transformed her pain into a life full of unconditional love and support for you.

Growing up poor wasn’t easy, but your mom embraced it with a stubborn resilience that only she could muster. You remembered the nights when she’d hustle through her graveyard shifts at the diner, fluorescent lights flickering above her as she poured coffee for strangers who hardly noticed her. Yet, you always knew that beneath those tired eyes was a fierce determination to give you a better life. While she often struggled to make ends meet, she tirelessly saved every penny to make sure you had a chance to go to college.

The day you graduated from college, and later stood on the steps of Harvard Law School, you could see her there, your biggest cheerleader, her face lit up with a mix of pride and disbelief, all the sacrifices of her past culminating in this moment. She was at an age where she would get some cosmetic tweaks here and there, even though she didn’t need it at all. For you, funding those little indulgences she so joyfully embraced felt like a small token of gratitude rather than an expense – whether it was a new skincare regimen or a visit to her favorite clinic for a ‘facial’ – also known as botox. Some may have called it vanity, but you simply understood it as her way of feeling confident.

Checking the time on your phone, you sighed, "I really need to shower and then pick up the girls…"

She waved a hand dismissively. "I’ll handle the pick-up. You go freshen up."

You hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Are you sure? I’m here,”

Your mother helped you and your husband with the kids, she lived about 15 minutes away and she had loved stepping into the role of grandmother, even though your daughters called her by her first name. Her request.

She caught your eye and smiled, a playful glint in her gaze. "I’m sure,”

As you turned to head towards your bedroom, she called out, “Hey! Should I whip you up a drink while you’re at it? Maybe a martini?”

You half-laughed, glancing back at her. “Mom, it’s 3 PM,”

“Exactly! That’s practically early evening somewhere,” she shot back, hands on her hips. “What’s more self-care than a little liquid relaxation? Plus,” she added, winking cheekily, “by the time I bring the girls back, you’ll be rejuvenated and ready to deal with them!”

“Right, because a tipsy mom is the kind of energy they need,” you replied, shaking your head as you turned towards your bedroom.

“Hey, if you’re going to raise the next generation, you should at least do it with a buzz!” She called after you, and you could hear her giggling as you walked away.

You felt so excited when you stripped out of your clothes, you couldn’t remember the last time you came home this early. This day was exhausting, you told your office you were taking a half day. In the soft haze of steam, the bathroom felt like a sanctuary, the air thick with warmth and the sound of water cascading down. You stood under the showerhead, letting the soothing streams wash away the stress of your day, though your mind was elsewhere.

David.

Thoughts of the case filled your head, swirling like the steam around you.

David.

Thoughts of him touching you today and wanting to feel his lips on yours.

David.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear the quiet creak of the bathroom door nor the gentle sound of footsteps on the tiled floor. It wasn't until you felt a warm presence behind you, a familiar weight against your back, that you fully came back to the moment. The water poured over you, glistening on your skin.

Your husband enveloped you in his arms, his chest pressing against her back. "You've been working too hard, you know that?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver of surprise through you. You had been too caught up in her mind to notice him coming in, but his touch grounded you.

“One of my cases took an interesting turn today; I have opposing counsel by the balls, so I think the long nights will stop,”

He slid his hands down your sides, feeling the smoothness of your wet skin, his fingers trailing over your curves. "The balls huh?” he continued, his voice low and teasing. "I’m not settling, sweetheart,”

You turned around to face your husband, David.

“How about we settle on a more hands-on approach instead?” Your voice was soft yet laced with suggestion.

David’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a wicked grin. With that, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that made your head spin. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat building between you as your hands explored the contours of his body, pulling him closer.

It was hard to believe that ten years had passed since the whirlwind of chaos that had introduced you to David.

You were opposing counsel on a high-profile divorce case involving your notorious rockstar client and his fashion designer wife who David had been representing. Both clients were as volatile as they came, their passions spilling over into the courtroom and beyond. During the initial meetings, you remembered the palpable tension that had filled the air, not just between your clients, but also between you and David.

You had clashed from the very start. Every strategy session was a battle of wits, each trying to outmaneuver the other. You would suggest a course of action, only to have him counter it with a sarcastic quip that ignited your irritation. Meetings turned into a game of sparring, with the courtroom as your battleground.

But amidst the stress and hostility, something unexpected had begun to simmer. There was a spark—a magnetic pull that neither of you could ignore. Late nights pouring over case files morphed into stolen glances and fleeting touches. The tension that once felt like conflict took on a new energy, an unspoken understanding simmering beneath the surface.

You remembered the night it happened. You both stayed late, tensions high from a particularly nasty spat with your clients that threatened to derail the case. The office was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls as you argued, the air crackling with frustration. And then, in a moment of surprising heat, your lips met. It was reckless, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating. You pushed aside a few scattered files, the sound barely reaching your ears as his hands found your waist, pulling you firmly against him. His lips were warm and insistent, coaxing a frantic response from you that left you breathless. You ran your hands along his arms, feeling the taut muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt, a contrast to the softness of the kiss. He proceeded to pull your panties down and his head disappeared under your skirt as he settled his face between your thighs. Your elbows buckled, and you collapsed against the desk as he licked, stroked, and sucked, sending waves of pleasure through you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations. Trembling, you felt him secure your hips with one arm and he made you come harder than you ever had.

When you recovered, he pushed inside of you filling you up with one thrust and set a pounding rhythm and your mouth opened to let out filthy sounds because you were so lost in the sensations that you forgot that you were supposed to hate him. You were a panting, aching mess, as he made you beg, made you want, and fucking tortured you before he let you come. Finally, he hit that magic spot, and you experienced a pleasure you had only read about and you clenched violently on his cock screaming his name, while he whispered filth your ear. Moments later, David was groaning out as his release hit him and he kissed you hard, moaning into your mouth. 

In the days that followed, you plastered on facades of professionalism, even as your heart raced at the thought of what had transpired. It had clearly just been stress relief. You didn’t talk about it. But sometimes, you would catch David’s eye across the conference table, and the memories of that night would flicker in your mind like a vivid flashback, stirring emotions you didn’t know how to articulate.

And, the irony was thick; your clients, once dead set on ending their relationship, had begun to reconcile. They called off the divorce and worked through their differences.

After the final negotiation session where your clients seemed more like a united front than ever, you both stepped out onto the balcony of your office for some fresh air. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city skyline, and for a moment, you both leaned against the railing in silence, the weight of the past few months hanging between you.

Finally, David broke the silence, turning towards you with a mixture of nervousness and determination in his eyes. "We should talk," he said, his voice low and steady. "About everything."

Your heart raced as you turned to face him, the memory of that night flooding back. “What is there to talk about?” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the tension was palpable.

His gaze bore into you, unflinching. “I know we haven’t acknowledged…what happened. But I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,”

You swallowed hard, trying to manage the whirlwind of emotions. “It was a mistake,” you said instinctively, but even as the words left your lips, you knew it was a lie.

David stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it?” he challenged, but then softened his tone. “Look, I don’t want to make things complicated, but we’ve shared something…unique. And now that this case is winding down, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to explore between us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You mean a—”

“A date,” he pressed, a hopeful smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Just you and me. Away from the courtroom, these files, and all the bullshit,”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was kindness. A thrill ran through you. Yes, it was reckless. Yes, it was complicated—but there was something about David that made you want to take a chance.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”

David’s smile widened, a sense of relief washing over his features. “Great. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

You nodded, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within you. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

You and David hadn’t been in court together since that last case, and you still used your maiden name professionally, so a lot of people didn’t know you two were married. Your current clients knew as it had to be disclosed, and Judge McCall was very aware – in fact he was the one who had married you both all those years ago.

“Tell me,” You breathed between kisses and returning to the present, your lips aching for more of his touch. “How do you plan to win this case?”

David pulled back just enough to tease you with a raised eyebrow. “By any means necessary, of course,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your jaw, igniting every nerve in your body.

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. "By any means necessary, huh?" You challenged, your voice a sultry whisper. "That sounds dangerously like a promise."

David chuckled, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped at your skin lightly, sending tingles down your spine. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he replied, his tone low and teasing. "And right now, the only thing I want you to focus on is me,” he whispered. “And I’d much rather you focus on how good it feels when I—”

You interrupted him with a bold kiss that silenced his lips against yours. As your lips parted, you looked at David, his brows knitted in concern, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifted.

“What?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a beat, his expression serious as he brushed a lock of wet hair off your forehead. “I was worried about you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you take that call earlier, and you looked... off.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of your day crashing down like a tidal wave. “It was Carol,” you replied.

David’s eyes searched yours. When you took a deep breath, the words spilled out. “Sam is cheating on her with some twenty-two-year-old girl from the gym.”

Your husband’s expression shifted, a mix of anger and disgust flickering across his features. “What?” he said through gritted teeth, his jaw tightening.

You, Carol and Sam had all met in undergrad, and they were college sweethearts. They were some of your oldest friends and you couldn’t believe Sam was willing to throw everything away for a fling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, the frustration at the situation washing over you. “She’s worried about their kids. I mean, they’re really young, and the whole situation is just so tacky,” you confessed, the anger evident in your voice. “I didn’t expect it from him. It’s just—”

“Difficult to digest,” David finished for you, nodding slowly.

For a moment, silence enveloped you both, thick with the weight of emotions. You clung to him. Finally, you spoke again, your voice almost a whisper. “I hate seeing her go through this. It just makes me think...”

His gaze held yours intently. “Think about what?”

“About how unpredictable relationships can be. How everything can change in an instant,” you said.

David stepped back, releasing your hands gently. His expression flickered with concern. “You’re not worried about us, are you?”

As the last drops of water cascaded off your shoulders, you took a moment to breathe. You hesitated, the question lingering like a charged current in the air. “No, I just—”

David stepped closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face. "Because I can assure you, I’m never going to do that," he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he gently placed a finger across your lips, quieting your thoughts.

"Never,” he repeated. “Besides, I don’t believe in divorce,”

“But you’re a divorce lawyer,” you rolled your eyes.  

“It’s a job,” he chucked softly. “You and me, that’s forever,”

“You’re just saying that because we never signed a prenup, and so it would cost you a lot of money,” you teased.

David came from a very wealthy family, and he had made his own money with his career as a lawyer. So, when you two got engaged, you told him you were happy to sign a prenup as you didn’t feel entitled to his inheritance and you didn’t want his family or him to think you were with him for the wrong reasons. You knew how messy things could get during divorces and it felt pragmatic to check all of the boxes. Ironically, you don’t think you had ever seen him be so offended by something you said. He told you that he felt that too many people entered marriages thinking they could devise an escape route if things got rough, and he didn’t want you both to enter this marriage expecting a divorce. It was a bold proposition coming from a divorce lawyer – but surprisingly you two never ended up signing a prenup.

“I love you,” he chuckled, dipping his head to capture your lips once again.

The sincerity in his words sent a comforting warmth through you, and you felt a slight smile creep across your face. "I love you too," you murmured, pushing away your previous doubts.

With that, you turned off the shower. David stepped out and handed you a towel, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft fabric felt luxurious as you wrapped it around your body, attempting to shield yourself from the chill.

He took a towel for himself.  As he dried off, you took a moment to admire him, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude flood your chest. Each muscle, each curve, every scar told a story, and he was beautiful and yours.

David finished drying off and tossed his towel, moving closer to you again, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "When are Molly and Alice getting back?” he asked, leaning against the bathroom counter casually, his posture inviting. “How much time do we have baby?”

You bit your lip, a teasing smile playing on your face as you considered your next words. “Well, I’d say we have about thirty minutes before my mother and the girls return,” you replied smoothly.

 “Thirty minutes, huh? That sounds like just enough time for—” he paused dramatically, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, “—some strategic planning.”

“Oh, strategic planning, is it?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

With a swift, deft motion, he tugged your towel away, letting it drop to the floor. The rush of cool air sent a shiver down your spine. He swallowed hard and your mouth watered when you looked down at his rock-hard erection.

He leaned forward taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue swirling in circles as he cupped your other breast and teased your other nipple with the pad of his thumb. You whimpered, losing yourself in the sensation of him nipping at your nipple and licking at your breast. You ran your fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging at him as he started to suck hard.

“Oh my god,” you cried out a little too loudly, and he popped you out of his mouth with a grin.

“God you’re beautiful,” he murmured, staring at you and then carried you to the edge of the bathroom counter. The cool marble met your exposed skin—a stark contrast that sent another jolt of pleasure through you.

“David!” you gasped, half surprised, half thrilled, as he set you down and positioned himself between your legs, his body just inches from yours and he began to tease you with his fingertips, sliding them along your slick, as you gasped and tipped your head back slightly.

“Such a messy little pussy,” he teased, looking up at you, eyes dark with desire. “You’re so wet for me,”

“Well then fucking do something about it, papi,” you growled.

You saw his cock twitch because he not-so-secretly loved it with you called him that. It wasn’t a common occurrence for you two, but you loved to pull it out when you needed to get his attention.

“Mmm, love it when you’re a little mean with me,” he said, as he dropped to his knees, his face was suddenly between your legs, and his hands pushing your thighs apart. “Because then I get to watch you get so nice for me,” his lips brushed against your core and you gasped, a wave of pleasure surging through you as he slowly flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit. You could feel the heat pooling low in your abdomen, the pressure tightening as he continued to tease, swirling his tongue in delicious patterns.

“Unngh… so good,” you managed to stammer, your fingers slipping into his thick hair, guiding him closer. You could feel the familiar tension building, the longing for release intensifying as he drove you wild.

“Just good?” he teased, pulling back slightly to blow cool air against your slick folds, sending a fresh wave of sensation through you.

“David, please,” you begged, feeling yourself practically vibrating with need. “Don’t tease me—”

But he was relentless, burying his face back where you wanted him most, sucking and licking with a fervor that had you arching off the counter.  You could feel the overwhelming warmth pooling in your belly, the tension coiling tighter with every flick, every thrust of his tongue, and with a soft cry, you felt yourself teetering on the edge. “I’m—David, I’m so close—”

With that, his fingers joined the mix, slipping inside you, curling perfectly to hit that sweet spot that had your back arching and your breath stuttering. Your moans turned to cries as he worked his magic, pushing you to the brink.

“Come for papi, baby,” he urged, his voice thick and muffled against your core as he kept the rhythm steady, coaxing your orgasm to its peak. “Let go for me.”

And then you did. The tension shattered into a million pieces as waves of heat washed over you. You cried out his name, your legs shaking as the world around you dissolved. Each pulse and throb sent you spiraling deeper, his mouth and fingers working you through the overwhelming sensation.

As your breaths slowed, you could feel David’s warm body pressed against your own, his forehead resting against your thigh as he breathed in your scent, savoring the moment.

“Was that strategic enough for you?” he teased lightly, glancing up at you with a satisfied grin.

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from your chest. “I think you nailed the plan, counselor.”

He rose to his feet, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that tasted of you, and you pulled him in tighter, feeling the hardness of his cock against you.

As he positioned himself between your legs once again, he pressed his cock against your slick folds, teasing just at the entrance but not pushing inside yet. The anticipation made you arch your back, seeking more of him.

“David, please," you breathed, the desperation in your voice clear.

“Please what?” he taunted, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “You want more, baby?

You nodded pathetically, your body thrumming with need as you bit your lip, watching him with pleading eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he purred, letting the tip of his cock tease against you, driving you mad with desire.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, the words almost spilling out in a whimper. “Please, David.”

With a satisfied grin, he leaned forward, shoving himself inside of you. “Whatever you say, counselor,”

xx

The emotional cheating warning was a lie to keep you guys on your toes! Was it obvious that they were married the entire time? I’m a softie so I love soft!dave when he’s in love with his wifey and fucking feral for her.

Shortie is our rom-com queen! So, for her AU challenge, I took inspiration from the movie Laws of Attraction. This is how I envision Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore’s characters turning out maybe 10 years down the road. Also, I had to add the mother (with my own spin) in this one-shot because I thought she was the funniest person in the movie, so I wanted to add some humor in the one-shot. The lip party is a quote from the movie.

If you haven’t watched Laws of Attraction – do it! Pierce Brosnan is soooooooo Papi Chulo in it 😉

This was so good! Absolutely love how you gave us the beginnings of Dieter Bravo! 😍

Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks. 

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile. 

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids. 

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle. 

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice. 

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie. 

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful. 

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.  

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day. 

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit. 

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says. 

You stifle a laugh. 

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.  

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does. 

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober. 

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles. 

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.” 

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering. 

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak. 

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter. 

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like. 

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes. 

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too. 

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. 

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate. 

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited. 

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat. 

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes. 

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs. 

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say. 

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands. 

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess. 

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again. 

“You’re staring at me,” you say. 

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time. 

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull. 

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same. 

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss. 

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager. 

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you. 

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging. 

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand. 

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care.  The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting. 

“Ow,” you complain. 

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks. 

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain. 

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly. 

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says. 

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin. 

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat. 

“Me either,” you tell him. 

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do. 

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need. 

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off. 

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute. 

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond. 

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating. 

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need. 

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle. 

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release. 

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be. 

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him. 

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music. 

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend. 

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down. 

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

“I really like you,” he says. 

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own. 

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say. 

-

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and my asks are always open!

The way I cackled at this 🤣😂

requested by @chronically-ghosted ♥ | insp

HOT DAMN! 🥵

And him wanting her to stay?! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just night, another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

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