for-a-longlongtime - Tumblr blog

for-a-longlongtime · 9 hours

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*clears throat*

okay BYEEEE just rb-ing your fic again because not enough people read it

(dear people, PLEASE read it, it's so damn good)

Truth or Consequences

Summary: You know deep down the hatred is only for himself and the turmoil he’s got boiling inside of him. Why else would he be paying to see you every week? Word Count: 3,442 Pairing: Ted Garcia x ftm! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, dom/sub dynamic, mild humiliation/degredation, (LOTS of) dirty talk, internalized homophobia, reader uses the f slur and t slur to refer to himself, sucking the strap, rough oral sex, deepthroating, coming untouched, paying for sex, reader has top surgery scars but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n, Ted Garcia is a republican A/N: I literally could not have done this without @for-a-longlongtime hyping me up and giving me motivation. Thank you bby <3

It’s late. It always is. You’ve been holed up in this hotel room for the last hour and a half. Waiting.

You don’t like when he makes you wait. He knows this, and perhaps it’s why he’s never shown up on time.

At least there’s Coke Zero in the minibar, and enough cable channels to keep you entertained.

But you click the TV off when you hear the familiar “knock-knockknock-knock” on the hotel room door.

You take your time straightening yourself up in the mirror, knowing he’s sweating it out in the hallway, where anyone could see.

It’s a small town.

You cut off his second attempt at the secret knock and tug him in by the collar of his tacky leather vest.

His eyes grow wide and he flinches when the heavy door slams shut behind him.

It’s cute, how he always seems so frightened.

“Took your sweet time tonight.”

He clears his throat and blinks hard before his pretty lips part.

“Secretary lost part of my speech— ”

His sentence cuts off with a high-pitched whine when you grab his jaw to manually shut his mouth. You click your tongue at him and feel his Adam's apple bob against your wrist.

“Try again.”

You notice his chest heaving, and you feel his jaw work under your fingertips.

“I— I’m sorry.”

Fuck, he looks so good like this, scared shitless and tenting his faded Wrangler blue jeans.

You release his jaw, but grab onto the curls at the nape of his neck and tug.

“Not quite.”

He curses, eyes shut tight.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

You chuckle and watch as the noise goes straight to his cock.

“That’s it, there he is. You have to mind your manners, Mr.Mayor. Don’t you wanna get re-elected?”

He whimpers and nods his head, and your fingers tighten their grip in his hair.

“Yes sir, I do.”

You hum as you let your free hand find those curls at the nape of his neck, too. You thread your fingers together at the back of his head and watch his tense expression melt into something more relieved.

“Tell me your safe word.”

With a shuddered breath, he speaks.

“Insurrection.”

“And if your pretty mouth is full?”

His hand finds your waist, tapping three times in a row.

“Good boy,” you mumble, ruffling his hair.

You watch as his skin flushes, trickling from under his collar to spread across his face.

His hand is still on your waist. You grab it slowly, then all at once torque on his arm so he twists away from you with a yelp. You crowd him from behind, get your other hand around his elbow, and kick the back of his knee.

He collapses onto the gaudy carpet with a groan, arching his back to relieve the tension in his shoulders where you’ve still got his arms in a death grip behind him.

You love to watch him squirm around.

“You know the drill, Mayor.”

You release your hold on him and watch some of the tension melt away. He digs around in his pocket and comes up with his phone, as always, letting his face unlock it for you. He sets it down on the bed in front of him, then holds his hands behind his back with amusing obedience.

“Pretty quiet tonight. Nervous?”

He shakes his head immediately, a knee-jerk reaction. You’re behind him, so you can’t see his face, but you know his eyebrows are all pinched up. You know he’s lying.

You weave your fingers through his curls once more and tug so he’s looking up at you.

“Why are you lying to me?”

His lips part, pretty pink tongue peeking out to wet them.

“I’m sorry, sir. I am nervous. Big day tomorrow.”

You’re well aware of the events to take place over the next 24 hours. His last big speech before the town either votes him out or keeps him around. You don’t dwell over politics, especially not now, but you’re well aware that the polls are leaning toward the former rather than the latter.

“Poor baby,” you coo, “I can’t imagine why you’d be nervous.”

Your fingers twist a cruel motion in his hair and he whines, tries to worm his way out of your grip.

“You’re just the best little Mayor there ever was, aren’t you? Pouring more funding into the corrupt police department…”

You stroke his face with your free hand, and though it’s tender, he flinches at first contact.

“Tweeting about the evil gay agenda…”

Your thumb finds his chin, then his plush bottom lip, and you hold his mouth open as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“How about that secretary of yours? The one who’s salary doubled in your four years in office, huh? Does she know you come to see me every week?”

He doesn’t respond, just makes a pathetic little noise in the back of his throat. You pull his hair again.

“Answer me.”

“No! No, sir, she doesn’t.”

His words come out a little garbled where you’re holding his bottom lip. You hook your thumb behind his front teeth and slowly drag down, until his mouth is wide open. His eyelids flutter, just in time to watch you spit into his gaping mouth, stray droplets landing on his nose and cheeks and chin.

“You don’t tell her about us, Mr.Mayor? Are you ashamed of me?”

He curses, struggles in your hold, and you let him go. Though he keeps his hands together behind his back, he tilts his head forward, presents the back of his neck to you. It’s flushed, in this twisted mix of shame and arousal that always gets him off.

“Yes sir, I am.”

You huff, tut at him and kick at the sole of one of his Lucchese cowboy boots.

“Well that’s not very nice.”

He makes to lift his head up and look at you, but you shove his head back down.

“Why don’t you just sit here for a minute and think about how you can make it up to me, huh?”

“Yes sir,” he nods.

You let out a satisfied hum and grab your bag from the foot of the bed. Closing the bathroom door behind you, you get to work suiting up for the occasion. This is your favorite part, taking your time and letting him anticipate. You know he’s on-edge out there, waiting for you, wondering how you’re going to punish him this time.

You’ve railed him within an inch of his life, sat on his face until he’s nearly blue, edged him for so long you almost made him late for an early morning meeting. But tonight, you’ve got just the thing, know exactly what to do to make sure he’s thinking about it until the next time he comes to see you.

You look in the mirror when you’re ready, jeans pulled back up so only your largest, most obscene strap-on is hanging out of your fly. Your flannel shirt hangs open, top surgery scars on full display. You know he likes them, and you know he hates that.

You slowly and quietly open the bathroom door. A smirk spreads across your face when Ted is right there where you left him, shaking a bit, but otherwise perfectly still.

His breath hitches in the quiet hotel room when he feels you reclaim you space behind him. You chuckle, and he curses, and you wonder if this will ever get less fun.

“You really hurt my feelings, Teddy Bear.”

He grumbles at the nickname you’ve given him. He’s not so fond, but you think there’s a ring to it.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Look at me, Mayor.”

Despite the show of reluctance he’s put on, his head snaps up and back to look at you. His nostrils flare, and you know deep down the hatred is only for himself and the turmoil he’s got boiling inside of him. Why else would he be paying to see you every week?

You swear you see his pupils grow even larger when his gaze lands on the monster of a cock in front of his face. If that wasn’t enough, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip and quickly retreats, like his morals are just a second behind his horny little brain.

Your yes flick past his head to his phone, still unlocked on the bed. You grab it and hum, act like you’re going through his apps just to watch the way he squirms on his knees for you.

You finally open the camera, and the little blip sounds and lets him know you’re recording.

He looks great on tape like this, looking up at you with his wide, brown eyes. The bulge in his jeans is even more prominent since they’re such a light wash, and the lens even picks up on the tiny little patch of dampness that soaks through the denim.

You pull the phone up, angle it down a bit more so your dick is on display, eclipsing the view of his face. The pale silicone contrasts beautifully with his flushed and tan skin. You take it in hand, stroke it a few times, though your fingers can’t quite wrap around the entire thing.

Ted’s squirming in the near background, shifting from knee to knee, and you think he’s waited long enough.

You step forward, and he opens his mouth. You chuckle and grab his jaw, run your thumb along his wet lip.

“Eager little beaver, aren’t you, Mayor?”

On camera, you watch him tear away his gaze from your prick to your face. His forehead wrinkles up, he doesn’t want to answer.

“Don’t get camera shy, baby. Let’s see your manners.”

His mouth finally closes, and he swallows and clears his throat.

“Yes sir.”

“Yes sir, what?”

He tries to look down, but you keep his jaw firmly in place. His nostrils flare again, but the camera also picks up the way his hips shift forward, his straining cock begging for relief against his fly.

“Yes sir, I’m eager.”

You hum.

“Eager for what, Teddy Bear?”

His jaw clenches, you can feel it under your palm.

“Eager for your cock, sir.”

You nod silently, and his eyes flicker up to your face instead of the phone.

And then you release his jaw, grab the base of your cock, and slap him with the cold silicone.

The noise he makes is pathetic, all strung out and desperate, and so you do it again, and again, until a phallic red streak adorns his face.

“This what you wanted my cock for?”

He nods quickly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah? Want me to leave a bruise? Want the shape of my cock on your face for the whole town to see tomorrow?”

A sound escapes his throat like he’s just got the wind knocked out of him, and he opens his mouth to answer, but you don’t let him. Instead, you smack his shiny lips with the head your dick.

“I know you do, Mr.Mayor. I know you want everyone to see what a good little cocksucker you are.”

His tongue reaches out to press against your cock, swirl around the large mushroom head of it.

“Yeah, that’s it. Get it nice ‘n wet.”

He does, lets saliva pool in his mouth and then sinks his mouth further down, pulling back to reveal what a dutiful job he’s done with drool slipping from the corner of his mouth.

“Imagine if this got leaked, Ted,” you murmur.

He whines, opens his mouth once more to take you in, even further this time, but still barely past the head.

“You’d like that? You think you’d get more votes if they knew how good you are at this?”

He nods around your prick, looking directly at the camera, and fuck, it’s a sight, makes a low heat build in your gut that you try your damndest to ignore.

So you thrust into his mouth, a slow but smooth motion, watching through the phone how wide you’re stretching his lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose until he can’t anymore, until you’re feeding the tip of your cock down his throat and he closes his eyes in focus.

“Fuck, yeah, I think they’d love this,” you say, and you’re completely sheathed inside him, holding, waiting until he can’t take it anymore.

He pulls back with a gasp and you let him, watching his spit dribble from his mouth, loving the deeper shade of red his lips are turning.

“Don’t you think so, Teddy Bear? You’re so inclusive now, sucking off a faggot and a tranny.”

He chokes on his spit, sputters and coughs until his face is red. But he whimpers, too, and he tries so hard to wiggle in his jeans and find even the smallest bit of friction.

You laugh at him, how desperate and wrecked he looks just from sucking on your fake cock. The damp patch on his pants has doubled in size and something about it makes you feel so so powerful.

“Tell ‘em how much you like my cock, Mayor.”

He clears his throat and looks directly at the camera.

“I love your cock, sir.”

As soon as he’s done speaking, you run the slick tip all over his lips.

“Yeah you do. Look so pretty with it in your mouth. Why don’t you take off all those layers? Show ‘em how pretty you can be?”

“Yes sir,” he nods.

He’s quick about it, throwing his vest off and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt until it’s hanging off his shoulders. It goes, and his tank top underneath does as well once he gets it untucked.

And then he’s just in his sinfully tight jeans, looking up at you with a heaving chest.

“That’s a good boy,” you mumble.

He sits back on his heels with a sigh.

“Thank you, sir.”

It’s a little tender, the way you smooth your free hand across his broad shoulder, the soft muscle jumping under your touch. You film the way his breath hitches when your palm ghosts his pebbled nipple, then the way he shudders when you flick it.

“You really are so pretty, Mr.Mayor. Love how these get so hard for me,” you tell him as you roll one between your thumb and finger.

His head lolls back, and his mouth opens around a groan when you squeeze. You give the other one just as much attention, until you feel him trembling under you.

Then, you reach up to wrap your hand around his bobbing throat, no pressure, just for show.

“Hmmm… think maybe we should get you a collar. Make you even prettier. Would you like that, too?”

He nods with his eyes shut. You give him a moment to realize where he’s at, but when it’s clear he’s lost in his head, you slap his cheek.

“Yes! Yes, yes sir, I would.”

His glassy eyes stare up at you, past his recording phone.

“Yeah, have you wear it to all your fancy meetings, let all your constituents know who you really belong to.”

You hear him gulp, loud in the quiet room, and watch him squirm around some more, watch how his cock jumps in his jeans.

“Who do you belong to? Who owns this mouth, and that weeping little cock?”

“You do, sir. It’s all yours.”

“That’s right, Mr.Mayor. Let me take what’s mine, huh?”

He opens his mouth with a slack jaw, and his eyes looks so beautiful when they roll back as you fill his mouth.

Instead of thrusting, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him into your cock. He keens around the silicone, so fucking needy. You curse and whisper his name, and that only gets more of a reaction from him. He’s humping the air now, a frantic roll of his hips, and you know he’s found that sweet spot where his jeans rub against him just right.

For a moment you let him go at his own pace. On camera, the bobbing of his head and the jerks of his hips are synced. His eyes are shut, and he’s really fucking into it, and as much as you hate to admit it, you are too.

The silicone base of your cock is pressing up against the perfect spot to get you heated. It doesn’t take long for you to still Ted’s head with a firm grip and start fucking his mouth.

He looks up at you just as he gags. His eyes are starting to water, and his chin is covered in drool. You thrust harder, deeper, until his eyes look a bit frantic and his breathing gets labored.

“Fuck, Mayor, you’re gonna get me off like this,” you say as you slow, give him a bit of a break to catch his wind.

He whimpers, and he closes his spread legs and rubs them together, aching for a bit more.

“You like that? You wanna make me come?”

His ‘yes sir’ is muffled around your cock, and it jiggles in the harness when he nods his head and that feels so fucking good.

“Get me off and then I’ll let you come. Gotta do it just like that, though. Don’t fucking touch yourself, Ted.”

He whimpers and doubles his effort, sloppy, knocking the huge cock all around to try to get you off with his panicked movements. You watch through the camera as the muscles in his arms and shoulders and chest all tense up, and you can’t tell whether or not he’s trying to come or trying not to come.

You’re getting close, the sweaty glide of the smooth base flicks against your throbbing bud. Your own breathing starts to pick up, and you’re so close but it’s just not quite enough.

So you grab the back of his head and thrust, slip the silicone to the back of his throat and grind until you finally, finally tumble over the edge.

He’s gagging and coughing with the prick still in his mouth, and the tears are running down his face one right after the other and it only makes those waves keep crashing in a delicious rhythm.

When you pull back, just a bit, there’s teeth marks on your cock, shiny with spit on the video recording. You give another thrust just to punish him for it, and it sets off a fucking gorgeous chain reaction.

It ripples from his head to his toes. His breaths are more than labored, evident even when his shoulders shake and stiffen, his stomach clenches and unclenches and his hips jolt and stutter as he squeezes his legs together.

You pull your cock from his mouth just in time to kneel down and get a close up of his jeans, and the way that wet spot gets larger and larger as his cock jerks and his hips roll.

The sounds he makes are so fucking pathetic it’s almost funny, whimpering and sniveling as he just keeps coming, spurt after spurt absolutely soiling his pants.

His legs shake with the last few pulses, and then he’s slumping, completely ruined from head to toe. You lean back on your own knees so the camera gets an Oscar-worthy pan of his stomach and chest, heaving and sweaty. Up even further to his freshly fucked mouth, all red and shiny and swollen. And his eyes, wide and almost scared looking in his post-nut clarity and guilt, don’t quite meet you or the lense.

“Smile real pretty for the camera, Teddy Bear.”

And to his credit, he does, though it’s anything but genuine and much more resembles a grimace than anything else.

The sound of the recording ending marks the end of this little session as well. Both sets of bones pop and crack as you stand up together. The dressing is quiet, as it always is, and he doesn’t steal a single glance at anything other than the tacky hotel room carpet.

He clears his throat, and you look up from buttoning your shirt to see him still flushed and still guilty. He’s dressed, but he’s holding his vest in front of him and shielding the soaked spot on his jeans from view.

“Thanks, I guess.”

You hum and shrug as he grabs the door handle.

“Same time next week?”

He shrugs then, too, but you know the answer already, know that next Monday you’ll have another bundle of taxpayer dollars come through on your venmo.

He leaves without another word.

When you watch his speech on the news the next day, his voice is noticeably more hoarse and gruff.

#ted garcia #pedro pascal characters #eddington

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for-a-longlongtime · 1 day

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@wildemaven How can you even think the smut is wonky?? IT IS SO GOOD. So hot for them to get off like that, because seriously - how can you not sit back and enjoy that front row seat to watch him come like that...

But aside from that, love their dynamic and how flirty they are with each other's at Tommy's. I haven't seen the prev version of the fic but I sure love this!

look at us | joel miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2748 warnings: 18+ blog; Smut, maybe even smut with no real plot, Nipple play, orgasm through nipple stimulation, praise, multiple orgasms, using arousal as lube, mutual masterbastion (f & m), cum eating/sharing, mirror watching, my horrible attempt at keeping a conversation flowing during sexy time, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself, fluff, established relationship, mentioned that reader is wearing a dress & bra but has zero descriptive features, can be read as no outbreak or prior to outbreak Joel, there’s no Sarah in this universe notes: this is a reimagined version of an older fic i posted and didn’t really like for some reason. Switched the characters and reworked it a bit. Smut is so hard to write for me, I just question the whole thing in its entirety and never want to do it again. But I love this storyline so much more now as Joel that I honestly don’t even care if the smut is wonky— I just want joel now. This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator.

It’s a heady sensation.

Visceral. Demanding. Gratifying.

His touch. A grounding force that burns through you, igniting every nerve ending in its wake.

Plaint and warm, your body blooms with a carnal appetency.

He’s emboldened by every sound he plucks from you. The softest whimpers that fall from your lips, kiss every single inch of his dewy skin. He’s forever addicted to your willingness to take what he has to give you— always wanting more.

Generous. Attentive. Steadfast.

Earnestness bleeds into a lustrous selfishness. The anticipation palpable, watching as you come apart in his arms, your pleasure is his forevermore.

It’s intuitive, the way he’s drawn to you. Most mornings, taking advantage of what little time he has with you, before work is pulling you both in different directions. Then you’re reunited for the evening and he’s making up for lost time, devouring and satisfying, well into the next day.

An endless cycle of being connected and reconnecting.

When weekends come around, he’s selfish. Overindulging beyond his means. Knowing he has ample time to relish in the closeness. Met with endless opportunities to have you near in any capacity as the hours of the day tick on, time he doesn’t take for granted.

Today is no different. From the moment the truck backs out of the driveway, beginning the several mile drive across town in the direction of Tommy’s home, he’s reaching for your hand.

Palm to palm, fingers perfectly intertwined as your hands stay connected over the center console of his pickup. The afternoon sun streaming through the window, adding to the already budding warmth that’s building between you. The conversation is light. Joel listening intently as you share details from your week, his thumb working over your knuckles as you move through the highlights of your story.

The remainder of the drive has a comfortable lull as the miles roll by. Music streaming through the cab, the lyrics provoking a wave of affection. Joel’s lips find the top of your hand periodically, his gaze never breaking from the road ahead. Your heart racing instantly at his instinctual gesture.

The gathering of friends— barbecuing, music and laughter, doesn't deter him from keeping you within arms reach.

Joel’s hand settles on the small of your back, fingers lightly dragging back and forth over your tingling spine, as you both exchange hello’s and hugs to the group friends in attendance scattered around the backyard

While Tommy is busy tending to the food on the barbecue, Joel and you are caught up listening to Paul, Tommy’s old army buddy and the newest hire at Joel’s construction company, share stories from his and Tommy’s time together in the military. Both of you enthralled by the recounts of close calls and embarrassing moments for the younger Miller brother, only to be interrupted by a flustered Tommy calling for Paul to grab plates and napkins from inside.

The minute you’re alone his hand is wandering south, grabbing at the meat of your ass and pulling you flush against him. It’s the first moment you’ve been alone since arriving and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to take advantage of it.

You smile into his kiss, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as he leans in close, his hushed words fanning across your ear.

“You look so damn pretty in that dress. Can’t wait to get my hands on you later.” The husk in his voice nearly makes you melt further into him, not even surprised by the cool dampness coating the silk panties you chose today, just for him.

“Hmmm— your hands haven’t left me since we got here.” You muse.

“I like havin’ you close.”

“You’ve made that quite obvious, Miller.” You joke, before he’s silencing you with another less than chaste kiss.

Dinner is served as the sun begins its descent. The air dropping a few degrees cooler, has goosebumps pricking at your skin. But it’s nothing compared to the shiver Joel is causing you, his hand nestled between your legs under the table.

You find it hard to focus between all the lively conversations being volleyed across the table, dishes being passed around and laughter cutting through friendly onslaughts of fuck you’s.

Joel mindlessly massaging at your thigh as he talks. Filling everyone in on the projects he’s started around the house, while your brain is muddled with thoughts of Joel’s hands and only Joel’s hands.

You can’t be positive it’s a deliberate move— or is it? You’ve been with him long enough to know what a calculated man Joel is.

He leans forward to reach for the ketchup bottle, his other hand shifting further up your thighs, his demeanor is cool and even as his fingers brush over your clothed mound. His fingers slowly gliding over the very drenched fabric. You swallow a thick gasp as your hips cant forward on instinct, chasing his retreating hand, your cunt aching and desperate for more of his teasing.

The wink he shoots you as he settles back in his chair is all the evidence you need to know his plan worked.

“Look like you saw an infected zombie or somethin’. Everything okay, Baby?” You want to kiss the devilish smirk right off of his handsome face.

“Y-yeah.” Horny and desperate for you, but fine.

“Y’sure about that? Those perked nipples of yours are tellin’ a different story, Sweetheart.” He quietly calls you out. You glance down to see the thin fabric of your summer dress and lace bra are no match to conceal the hardened peaks— your body so easily betraying you is nothing new.

“We should head out soon.” You say softly, Joel nods immediately, the silent agreement has you eager for what’s in store when you arrive home.

The ongoing conversation among the others is now muted background noise as you stare into his needy eyes, your hand cupping the side of his face as your thumb traces over his plush lower lip.

“We’re headin’ out. Thanks for havin’ us, Tommy. Hope to see y’all again sometime soon. ‘Night.” Joel rushes through announcing your departure, pulling you from your seat, his body crowding behind you as he ushers you towards his truck.

“You’re not even gonna stay and help clean up?” Tommy pouts from his chair.

“You’re a big boy Tommy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joel yells over his shoulder with a two finger wave as the gate clicks shut, home and you are the only thing cares about for the remainder of the evening.

“Fuuuuuuuck— Joel!” Your mind slowly seeping into a deep pleasured state.

There’s little recollection of leaving Tommy’s house and the drive home, other than Joel’s unrelenting need to have you close at all times— no complaints from you whatsoever.

Joel’s firm grip on your hand when he all but drags you to the bedroom of your shared home, clothes stripped at the foot of your bed in a hasty fashion.

The accumulation of Joel’s fiery touches throughout the day were merely effortless foreplay, all considered and aiding in his profound efforts that have been unfolding since arriving home.

“You look so fuckin’ good. Look at us, Baby.” The low gravel of his voice is overwhelming, but laced with pure authenticity. You lift your head just enough as your eyes slowly flutter open, trying to catch a glimpse of what he sees in the full length mirror positioned on the wall across from where you both are in bed— a mere coincidence that it was placed in there when you moved in.

“‘M l-looking, J-joel.”

It’s exquisitely striking how your cunt flutters madly against the cool air of the bedroom. The sight alone is better than any pornography you’ve consumed together.

Joel sitting up against the headboard holding your body close to his. Your back firm and tacky against his chest, breathing in rhythmic unity.

His feet hooked around your ankles, keeping your legs spread out as he hones in on the two luring forms glaring back in the mirror, a view that will forever edge out his own fantasies of you.

His large hands hold the weight of your breasts with pleasing dexterity, whispering the most beautiful obscene things into your ear.

I love your body. I love the way you moan. Missed your pussy all day. God, you’re always on my mind. Fuck, you’re makin’ me so hard. Louder. Fuck. Look at me.

Your gaze finally catches Joel’s in the reflection. It’s direct and overwhelming, his warm brown eyes flickering with a bold desire igniting a ripple of goosebumps over your body.

You’re both possessed by the new wave of arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, as it ardently drips from your pussy down to the bed sheets. Desperately craving to be devastated by this handsome man.

Joel’s thumbs swipe over your hard sensitive nipples, pulling a breathy gasp from your lips. Your head falling back into his shoulder as you let the sensation fully consume you.

“You like that don’t you?” You can only manage to hum in response, which encourages him to continue his work over the pebbled skin.

“Y-yes. You know how much I d-do.”

Joel knows this. Well enough too. It’s a normal occurrence that you find yourself in this identic state. Your body buzzing and exhausted, molded against Joel’s. His cock weeping and begging for relief, snuggly nestled between your roaring bodies. His skilled hands reducing you to putty.

Rolling. Pinching. Pulling. Flicking.

Each thorough caress sends an intense and deep feeling of delirium surging through you. Building and building the delicate structure for an elaborate release.

“So perfect all laid out for me. You gonna come for me?. I think you’re almost there, Baby. Just need a little more, huh?”

“Joel— I-I don’t think I can this time. N-need— oh fuck Joel! I need a little m-more.”

You’re cut off when you feel Joel’s fingers faintly slide over your throbbing clit and bypassing it completely. He swipes through your wet folds. You think he might finally give in. Plunge one, maybe two of his thick fingers into your aching heat, caress your velvet walls until you’re coming undone. Your body jolts as he gathers your arousal on his fingers, then abandons the ache and returns to his previous ministrations.

His arousal slick digits glide over each of your perked nipples. The wet eager strokes have your back arching as you moan into the room, your body tense and vibrating.

“Joel— yes! That feels so good! fuckfuckfuck! I— I’m so close Joel! D-don’t stop!” You let out a sharp moan.

“I ain’t stoppin’, Sweetheart. So fuckin’ beautiful. Can’t wait to see you come, Baby— just let go.” His hushed words paired with the way he rolls your stiff nubs between his fingers is just the push you needed, your climax vibrant and beautiful as it erupts, spreading through you faster than you can announce its existence.

Joel watches you fall apart in the mirror. Your breathless state has his hips grinding against your lower back as he continues to clutch your breasts. The glimmering beads of sweat rolling down your throat and chest, joining the layer pooling between your bodies.

It’s the view of your cunt that nearly takes him out, empty and pulsating, he’s never been so proud of a sight. He adds the mental snapshot to his backlog of imagery he’ll store of you until the end of his days.

“God, Joel. That— that was amazing!.” You say, peeling your satiated body from his.

Turning to face him, you sit in the space between where his legs are sprawled open, your hands massaging at his calves. You take in how enticing he looks, laid back on the stack of pillows, a slack grin on his handsome face as he slowly pumps his hardened cock.

You’re completely entranced by the sight, all thick and tempting. Biting at your lip teasingly, a hand all but subtly slips between your legs and your fingers begin delicately tracing circles over your clit.

Husked gasps falling from Joel’s parted lips as he alternates his movements. Long languid strokes over the length of his shaft then pausing briefly, his grip stilled and tight around the base as the reddened tip slowly leaks.

You gasp as the warmth of your sex engulfs your fingers triggering another gush of arousal to trickle down your thighs. Your other hand still connected to Joel’s leg, grounding your floating form to him.

Joel's eyes scan you, absorbing your blissed-out state, his hand matching your own steady movements, rhythmically moving over himself, his breaths now emerging as heavy pants.

Your fingers enthusiastically moving in and out with ease as your hips writhe keenly in search of the perfect position. The remnants of your previous orgasm are still lingering, beautifully aiding in the build up of the next. Your brows pinched in pleasure.

The room is dense with sexual humidity. Doused in a mixture of the ambered vanilla candle you burn frequently and a sweet ambrosial musk.

“Fuck— how’d I get so fuckin’ lucky with a woman like you? fuck!.” His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, neck taut and nose flared as he tries to breathe through how good he’s making himself feel. “Why don’t you— shit —c’mere.”

“Mmm-ah! T-tempting, Baby. ohgod! Think I’ll stay put. I’m actually enjoying the view quite nicely from here. You look so good like this, Joel.” Seeing him accept your praise is a vision you’ll never get tired of, allowing himself to give in and take what he needs.

Your fingers graze over that delicious little spot with success, a cresting wave set in motion, the sensation causing your walls to convulse. A moan escapes your lips, paralleling with Joel’s own sounds. Your head involuntarily tilts back, as you ride out the euphoric moment.

“Shit! Sweetheart, I’m— I’m gonna— Hnng!Fuuuck!”

Joel’s fist erratically pumps over his length, his eyes locked on your naked form, ragged breaths and eager moans. Your eyes struggle to stay focused through the hazy chaos, drawn to his flushed body, paralyzed with an ample dose of desire as he nears his finish.

“Come for me, Joel.” You’ve shifted yourself a little closer to where he’s eagerly working himself over, encouraging him to let go.

He does— white hot ropes of cum paint his stomach, his actions slowing as the last few drops spill over his hand. He breathes out a deep sigh, giving you a lopsided grin as his arms fall to his sides. Eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and love.

“Fuck— now will you c’mere?”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth, now hovering over where his now softening dick rests against his stomach. You don’t break eye contact as you lean down and lick at the sticky mess.

“Goddamn— Ah!” Joel hisses, the warmth of your tongue dragging up the length of his cock. Lapping at the dappled layer of silky brininess covering his lower abdomen, purring with satisfaction as you swallow it.

“God.Damn.” You echo his words back to him, your lips move over his— he groans at the taste of himself still on your tongue.

A slow, content smile forms on your face as you tenderly kiss his neck, followed by a series of soft kisses down his chest and stomach.

“Gimme a minute— just need to regroup and then I’ll be ready to go again.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” Joel’s arms wrap a you and you melt into him. “Or I can draw us a hot bath and we can soak until we’re prunes.” A yawn perfectly placed at the end of your suggestion.

“Sounds like a plan. How ‘bout we nap then soak?” You sleepily hum in response.

"Love you, Sweetheart," Joel whispers, before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Mmm— love you, Joel.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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