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granolawriting · 7 months

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"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you.

“How's this for a Halloween costume?”

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design.

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?”

“Straws exist.”

“I'm not convinced”

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle.

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you.

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else.

“A cowgirl?”

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately.

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.”

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.”

You put the bag in the cart.

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together.

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad.

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her.

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end.

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works.

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut,

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?”

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there.

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.”

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.”

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work.

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—”

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body.

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?”

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006.

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?”

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on.

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.”

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50.

…

Ding Dong

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—”

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens.

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive.

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?”

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you.

He skips a beat.

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.”

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter.

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?”

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.”

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry.

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure.

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.”

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers.

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.”

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same.

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom.

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass.

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.”

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it.

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?”

“Can you ask one question at a time?”

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.”

“Maybe. Well?”

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.”

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him.

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.”

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons.

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing.

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask.

“Hey you!!!”

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements.

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process.

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!”

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement;

“And—”

She points behind you.

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!”

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this.

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather.

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right.

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance.

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses.

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller— as you force yourself to call him in your mind.

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?”

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you.

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete.

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?”

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—”

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you.

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?”

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure.

You nod your head meekly.

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.”

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start;

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—”

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.”

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up.

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.”

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues.

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.”

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means.

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards.

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him.

“I'm—”

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.”

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him.

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him.

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased.

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.”

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed.

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.”

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?”

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.”

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose.

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.”

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you.

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation.

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season.

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!”

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second.

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind.

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.”

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues.

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.”

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?”

“Spendin’ the night?”

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you.

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more.

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.”

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home.

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him.

“Ya’ need somethin’?”

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would.

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.”

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face.

“And what would that be darlin’?”

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think.

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.”

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore.

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?”

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.”

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you.

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?”

“What?”

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.”

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.”

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says.

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…”

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that.

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.”

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra.

“Take it off. Please.”

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you.

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.”

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume.

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him.

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”

“Then show me.”

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination.

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention.

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?”

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night.

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.”

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long.

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head.

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-”

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah.

“You like that sweetheart?”

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you.

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.”

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.”

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him.

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.”

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.”

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release.

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you.

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.”

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—”

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same.

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?”

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.”

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior.

“Fuckkk please oh my god”

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?”

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm.

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.”

“Inside of me”

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing.

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—”

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later.

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you.

“I think you forgot something.”

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?”

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night.

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing;

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to feel you.”

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.”

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.”

“Yeah that’d be smart.”

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared.

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.”

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #cowboy pedro #cowboy joel #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction

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granolawriting · 7 months

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im about to write the description of cowboy joel and it’s making me freak out before i even put words to it. this will be my magnum opus of self indulgence

#AAAAANRMRNDFJDHDMSJSSJAMAMANSSMSNXHXJD #im normal. im normal.

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granolawriting · 7 months

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*shakes fictional character* where is the rest of your information I want to know more about you

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granolawriting · 7 months

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IM GONNA MAKE A SERIES !!!!

maybe, perhaps. I am still on the fence about what to write about, but after many long nights of oneshots I finally want to settle down.... have a family...... anyways. I have a few options to consider but I wanted to take advice from the people... of whom I owe my life..... so,

I am not married to either of those options tho so if anyone has like... a series idea and want to give me inspiration I will gladly take it.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal

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granolawriting · 7 months

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a lover’s pinch | masterlist

professor!joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni series summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves? series warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, explicit smut, angst, secret relationship, joel has both his daughters, joel's profession is very ooc but the core of his personality [grumpy], lore [dilf], mannerisms [being a secret softy] etc etc are all as true to character as my two humble hands can manage. explicit warnings included in each part. main masterlist ziggy's moodboard sil's moodboard

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granolawriting · 7 months

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Hi this is the anon that asked about the arranged vaderkin fics I would love if you do a 1 to 2 part fic. I love your writing so much.

hey anon!!!! so sorry it took so long, but I went a little overboard with the writing haha. 4.2k words of vaderkin,..... mmgfffgg...... anyways!!! you can find it here, tysm for the request!

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granolawriting · 7 months

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To break you

pairing: sith!Anakin x princess!Reader

Summary: a suitless darth vader find your home planet to be a threat to the galactic empire. and as he takes you into his custody, he gives you an answer; to wed him, or to die. and as your decision looms over you, he makes it his goal to break you before the wedding day.

word count: 4.2k

content warning: NSFW WARNING!, dark!anakin, there is no fluff he is just using you, spanking, name calling (slut, toy), condesending pet names (my doll, princess), hair pulling, nipple play, kind of public p in v, he cums in you, no aftercare, master anakin kink, sadism/masochism, stockholm syndrome pretty much, cocky and evil vaderkin, forced submission kind of, kind of dubcon but you do enjoy it

masterlist

A/N: hello!!! this is super diffrent than what I usually write, and I would want to put a content warning that this is pretty dark, but the people want and I deliver! This was a request by this anon, so thank you for the request :) Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

“Kneel.”

The hiss of a door that centered your prison was met by a brooding anakin. Well above 6 feet, drenched in black from head to toe did the heaviness of his boots only add greater loom of intimidation to engulf the room as he stood before you. Commanding you.

Darth Vader. He is who stood before you. Who caged you in this prison and moreover, destroyed everything you knew in mere hours. Scenes flash before you of what once was your home, one where you reigned comfortable leadership. A princess of a far off planet, known for well intended democracy and a desire for unity within its people. You were happy, especially under the old republic's rule. Even knowing who vader was, be it briefly, before he became the man before you.

Anakin skywalker. That's who really stood before you. No grimace upon a face, no merciless killings could ever shake him from being that person. The curve of his jaw in a scowl was the same one that greeted you all those years ago on your home planet-- sharing a single dinner together as he and his master asked for direction on a mission they were set upon. You knew what a smile looked like along his face, what a laugh may sound like from the cords deep within his throat. And as the man stands before you now, towering over you with no semblance of that boy surviving within him the scar on his face remains. The curl of his hair, the shape of his nose. It was all him, it was anakin.

Your knees instinctively met the cold metal of the floor of your cell. Bowing before him with great fervor, fear enveloping every sense in your body.

Looking up, you are met with Anakin as he looks down upon you. A face you couldn't read only exacerbated your fear as he looked at you with selfish intent.

He kneels, shoes flat upon the ground as knees bend together to get a closer look at you. Still towering over you does he stay, studying you, every muscle on your face every inch your eyes move. A gloved hand reaches out to grab you, flinching ever so slightly as you feel the cool leather grip onto your jaw. He moves you, taking you in, you move with him and submit yourself to his touch.

Standing up once more, a smirk grows upon a dark face.

“Let me ask you, shall I wed you, or kill you?”

your heart drops. It feels as though it stops beating as his eyes bore into you, taking in every lick of petrification that coats your face at the sight of his question. You knew deep in your mind there was nothing you could say to sway his decision, nothing you could argue or beg to urge one or the other; it was merely a matter of watching how you would react. The sadistic joy he felt in seeing you take in your options, the only two left for you in a life once bearing endless ones. Tears well in the sides of your eyes as you break eye contact with him, sobbing into the floor beneath you as wet tears hit the cool metal of the prison floor and a laugh emits from him. A sickening smile coats his face as he gathers great joy from your faltering. A once high princess, kind and polite, now bearing shackles at his feet. He found no greater joy.

“You can stop the melodrama now, princess, is it? Are you even able to form a single sentence? Come on now, beg for my mercy.”

You didn’t know what would be more merciful, to be ended or to be saved-- both with their pros and cons. But as you stare at the metal vaguely mirroring your reflection, you see your own face through muddled shapes. The look in your eyes, you were reminded of your humanity. Above all else, you didn't want to die. It wasn't your time yet.

“Please, please master. Let me wed you, I beg you not to kill me. I will do whatever you please master Vader just, don't let me die.”

You double down, almost curling up as tears fall from your face and horror shocks you to your core at what you’ve just done. Begged for, even. To wed the man who killed your family, slaughtered them like animals. Use them as an example, the death of your home planet serving as a reminder of the power of the empire over any semblance of the old republic order.

A small sucking of teeth exits Anakin as he paces back and forth, slow heavy stomping of boots echoing in the chamber, armed guards flanking either side of him. You can sense a smirk on his face, a sadistic smile growing on him as you kneel before him in pain and powerlessness. He gets drunk off the power he has over you, the way he can make you submit. He decides, it’s a fair thing to not give away. Not to mention the undeniable beauty you held, though that was only a bonus to him as such a beautiful face contorted to his favorite expression.

“So be it then. By 3 days time we shall be wed.”

He faces the guards stationed at the door.

“Please send for someone to clean her up, and fix her a room for just the night. By the next, I shall have made arrangements for her cohabitation with me for after the wedding.”

“Right away sir.”

…

You stare blank at the woman that looks at you within the mirror, studying her, questioning her likeness to you. It had been a single day since Anakin had taken you as his bride. And as the maids outside the steel door of your bathroom chattered about laced detailing and color coordinated floral arrangement, you were sick to your stomach in anguish over the dealings he’s made since. He reveled in the stir, the attention that was put on you-- the spotlight. He knew you hated it, and were humiliated by the mere implication. But as he sent maids to your room in and out as the day went on, asking your opinion on certain design choices and cuts of dress, he made you intimately tied to the process at hand.

You knew anakin hated being in the spotlight, almost as much as you did. But he would do about anything to break you.

…

Hiss

Heavy feet invite themselves into your temporary home.

“Hello lord vader.”

You stand almost at attention, previously mulling over small books lying around to distract yourself from what glared ahead of you, standing up as his presence enters the confines of your room to face him with full alertness.

“Please, princess. You are to be my wife aren’t you? No need for such formality. Anakin, will do. Master, anakin.”

He seemed to enjoy it when you called him master, even as his old name still held in its following address it still set a dynamic of extreme power to tower over you and him. He got off on it, owning you.

“Hello, master anakin. What can I do for you?”

Though his demand for formalities was adhered to in their most basic sense, you still felt no comfort in portraying anything but robotic response to what he demanded of you, to try and cater to him as emotionless as you could.

“Oh well, I was just stopping in to see what you were doing. Did you enjoy the wedding preparation earlier today?”

He knew you didn't, and a smirk upon a dark face proved it. He wanted to get a reaction out of you, toy with you.

“It was alright. Though, I don't understand why go through all of the hassle. I have no real say in the matter.”

Anakin fakes a sense of hurt as you make such a claim;

“No real say? Why could you say that? I tried to make every little part of the process down to your liking. It’s going to be quite large, after all. I even invited the remaining survivors from your planet, our own special guests to lie front seat to such a momentous occasion. Should you not be thanking me for such consideration?”

your throat goes dry, and small balls form unconsciously within your fists. He was set on humiliating you, letting the people you swore to protect watch as you wed their captor, their murderer. Composed of women and children assumably, the next generation of your world strapped in to watch the death of what they once knew in a cacophony of sound and extravagance.

Anakin watches as your expression grows dark-- he has gotten a reaction out of your stoned face. A sadistic grin grows upon his face. He steps closer to you.

“Oh my doll, no need to look so angry. It doesn't suit such a pretty face now does it? Come on, can you show me a smile, some gratitude for everything I've done for you? This wasn't cheap, you know.”

A leathered hand outstretched to meet your chin, lifting it up as it faced inward to your chest as means to lock eyes with the ground, and not his eyes. Slowly, a heavy hand pulls your chin up to face him, as he bends his head low to greet your eyes while he towers over you. He awaits your response with eagerness.

“Th.. thank you master Anakin. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

It falls out of your mouth through gritted teeth, rage stuffed deep inside of you as you watch him grow joyful at the sight of your repression and submission. His smile grows even larger at the sight of it.

“Good girl, now-”

He takes a heavy stride over to the lace and flower samples littered all over your room. He held his arms loosely to his back as he paced.

“I've taken the liberty of choosing your dress, as well as the floral arrangements. I just wanted you to take a glimpse of all the options I had planned out for you, all the things I picked out with you in mind hm? I'm sure it was stressful, but what wedding isn't mmm? We will make sure to get you fitted tomorrow. And,”

He now looks back over at you.

“That shall also be the day I move you into my personal chambers.”

your heart sinks once more.

“Now, I know that it isn't your planet's code of ethics to bed someone before they tie the knot; however we are no longer on your planet are we? The repairs and modifications have been finished early, and I find no means to wait. After all, I would like to know what I have to look forward to in days to come.”

Hooded eyes and lustful darkness overtake him as he takes in your body, its shape, and you feel utterly naked. He meant to test you out, before the wedding. Take what was never his thought in the process, please himself with the attraction he found to your body. You were just a toy to him, and by his means of taunting did he make that ever so clear.

…

White lace coated every inch of your body in extravagant pattern and stitching, a dress perfectly fitted to your body did it look utterly beautiful. Though as you gazed upon yourself in the mirror behind the curtain where you were to dress you felt nothing but despair. To look so beautiful, so wonderful, in the wake of such a nightmare was something you could only go numb to the feeling of. It was not one you would have chosen, the fit too tight for your usual formal attire, though he knew that well. This dress was out of your comfort zone, revealing, and above all else it was not who you were. Beautiful nonetheless, he wished to remind you that it is no longer you that exists within your body, it is his bride.

“Come out for me, my doll, I wish to see the bride.”

A coo coats the voice of taunt that Anakin relays to you at the wake of his impatience to see you in the dress he picked out for you. And thus slowly you emerge from curtained blockers to expose yourself to him.

He goes speechless for a moment, taking in your frame as you stand there feeling naked-- his eyes undressing every part of you that was accentuated, exposed.

“Maids, leave us for a moment. I shall call for you when you’re needed.”

You feel a sickening fear pool within your stomach, anything that he wished to have you utterly alone for was nothing to feel good about.

The hiss of the door signifying their exit left you trapped, utterly alone as Anakin was yet to voice reaction or concern with your attire.

“Do a spin for me princess.”

He is sat upon a cushioned chair, a leg crossed and back relaxed as he watches you, taking you in as you silently follow his command.

Though as you finish a slow spin, he gets up to approach you, a loom of sadism follows his aura.

“You look irresistible, you know that? I knew this dress would flatter you, your curves, however I could have never imagined it to look like this. You always wear such stuffy, loose clothing when you’re given the chance. No means to flaunt what is so desirable about you.”

He outstretches hands to place on your waist, the touch of them sending shock up your spine as his touch feels so foreign to you. Any touch does, really.

“Aww, what's that? Don’t tell me no one’s touched you like this before. Have you ever had a boyfriend before?”

Fuck.

“Uh.. no. no master anakin. This is uh, my first ever relationship, if you will.”

A selfish and downright evil grin unabashedly covers his face at the sound of such things. That not only did he take you as his bride, but he took your first relationship. You were pure, starved of affection.

“Tch, what a shame that is. I would think boys would line up for a piece of you, princess.”

His eyes trail down your body as his hands slowly move upward to your breasts, his hands softly cupping them as yellow eyes flick up back to your own to watch a reaction. Maintaining eye contact with you as he begins to massage them, slowly toying with them as you bite back any sort of unconscious response your body would have to such a foreign feeling.

“Aw, come on now my doll, no need to hold back with me hm? No one has ever touched you like this before have they, I know it must feel nice. Look me in my eyes.”

The thin fabric along your breast allows friction to your nipples that accentuates the feeling of his touch upon you. You’re not supposed to like it, but there's something irresistible about the feeling he gives you-- something you can't control.

His fingers move to the center of your breast, moving small circles around your nipples as he watches your face for reaction, searching for the contortion of your eyebrows and the closing of your eyes at the feeling of his friction. He wanted to break you, make you grow desperate for his touch. He got off seeing you melt in his hands, an untouched body waiting to be used by him.

A small moan escapes your mouth unconsciously as you’re unable to hold it in anymore, the feeling of him massaging you feels less like a violation and more like pleasure as the minutes pass, and as that happens a pool of slick begins to grow between your thighs as you keep eye contact with him, dark yellow eyes loom over your as brown waves softly fall to the front of his face, the tan of his skin growing more desirable as contrasted with the pink of his lips. As he made you so vulnerable for him in this position, the undeniable attraction that resided within his merciless body became evermore apparent.

At the sound of your approval of his touch he slowly lets off of it, leaving you feeling bare and needy for more.

“That's it, good girl. Now take that dress off.”

“What?”

“I don't wish to repeat myself again-- take that dress off.”

“Y…yes master anakin.”

Every inch of your body is screaming with sensitivity at the sight of such an exposing display. Anakin watched as the hairs stood up on your body, slowly as you disrobed yourself. The slipping of arms out of lace detailed sleeves sent shivers up your spine as the embarrassment of being watched overtook you. Slowly unzipping the back of your dress, allowing your body to shake loose it's tight curves on you and fall upon the floor with an airy landing, you stand before him in just what you wore beneath. Laced white underwear, matched with a laced white bra.

Anakin circles you, once more with hands held behind his back as he studies your body, remaining perfectly still do you allow him all he needs to be able to take in everything you are.

“I made a good decision deciding to wed you. Beneath those rags you wore I couldn't quite tell but now, now I know it was the right choice princess.”

You watch as his eyes grow dark, hooded with lust as a smirk overtakes him. His fingers slowly make their way to your waist, feeling a hard leathered hand on one side and a calloused fingers on another as he makes his way up your naked body, sliding upward as he grips onto your breasts and watches the way they fall into his hand. His free hand snakes to the back of your bra, unclasping it as he watches them fall out of their hold.

“Bend over. On that table for me.”

He motions to a nearby table sized at around your waist.

“Yes, master.”

Eagerness seeps from your voice as his touch upon you grows more and more desired. The feeling of his attraction to your body becomes what weakens your knees as the sight of the unknown grows more enticing. Perhaps it was his brainwashing finally working, the desire to please him becoming genuine priority for you, or perhaps it was primal attraction to being used. Being his doll.

You do as you're told, and as your exposed chest and stomach are pressed against the cool metal of the table, you feel as the cold air within the room hits the wet spot in now exposed underwear and makes you feel exposed.

Anakin's hands reach out to feel your ass, toying with it in his hands with a heavy grip-- spreading it apart before slipping off thin underwear that kept him from seeing you entirely. You felt the slick of your excitement drip down the side of your exposed thigh as your underwear dragged along your legs to fall onto the floor.

“Oh doll, is this all because of me? And here I was thinking you didn't like this. What a little tease, pretending like you don't want me while hiding this from me the whole time. What a slut.”

A hand slaps an exposed cheek. The sting seeps into your nerves with masochistic pleasure, you weakly hold back a whimper.

“Does this slut like being spanked around? You said you’ve never been with anyone but you still loved to be fucking used.”

He slaps you again.

“Spread your legs for me.”

You obliged, and as the cool air hits your exposed fold you hear the drop of heavy fabric from behind you. You turn your head to see him, though heavy hand shoves your head back into the metal table;

“I didn't say you could look at me, did I? Be a good toy and let me do what I wish without distraction.”

You feel his cock touch your entrance and your breath hitches. Slowly he coats it with your slick as he feeds it in and out of your folds, feeling his tip hit a sensitive clit made your hips buck at the feeling.

After small strokes along your clit he brings himself back to your entrance, penetrating you for the first time with little regard for how it may hurt for you. Not going too fast, but keeping a steady pace as he shoved himself deep into your cervix and making you yelp at the pain.

“T..too big… please master..”

A hand grips onto your hair, pulling you back so he can curve his body over yours, and whisper within your ear;

“Keep your fucking whining for me baby, I love hearing how much it hurts.”

And with that he keeps pumping into you, using your hair and waist to hold himself as he uses your hole like it's just a toy. Feeling him pulse inside of you at every sound of cried and yelps for how he slaps into you, echoing in the room sounds of moaning and grunts, wordless begging to go slow and the sound of him fucking into you.

Though soon the pain turned into unimaginable pleasure, and your desperate attempts to make him slow down were exchanged for the feeling of your hips riding out his thrusts to amplify their intensity inside of you.

“Feels…sogood.. Master..”

“Yeah, my pretty toy finally likes my cock inside her hm?”

He taunts you, teases you the whole time he’s inside of you. Fucking you in and out he calls you his toy, his slut, everything that you are he owns and is but an object to him. His words make a fire burn inside your stomach, white hot does it blaze as he goes faster inside of you with no sign of stopping.

“God.. Anakin, master I, i'm.,.”

You can't put together the words to say it, every word interrupted by a moan of desperation as you try and think while your body is completely enveloped by the feeling of him, completely ruined at the way he used you. You were his, and his alone you realized.

“Are you going to cum? Cum for me you fucking slut, let it swallow my cock.”

He increases his speed, your body falling up and down the top of the table as he rocks you back and forth with his intensity, and after only a few more strokes you feel your body convulsing over his cock. Legs growing weak and shaking and they’re barely able to hold themselves up anymore do you feel him keep pumping into you through your orgasm, his cock pulsing inside of you as your walls tighten around it.

“God, fuck good girl, you’re so fucking tight for me i'm-”

As your orgasm dies his begins, feeling liquid shoot deep inside of you for what seemed like an eternity, his cock warmed inside your pussy as he rode out the pulses of his seed in slow strokes in and out of you. Watching as he finally exited you and pools of his finish slowly seeped out of you and onto the floor.

Before you could even properly adjust yourself, you heard as Anakin reapplied his fallen clothes and was headed for the door.

“I will call for the maids to come clean you up.”

…

The day of the wedding had arrived shortly after, and you watched as the trumpets began to blair with a cacophony of sound to signify your descent upon the path to the rest of your life. Anakin stood at attention far at the end of white coated floors littered with different flowers, surrounded by the high emperors of the galactic empire as well as the front row full of your own people. You felt numb, broken. There was no fear left inside of you as you descended the rows, clad in beautiful white lace as the onlookers watched in awe. You felt nothing, watching Anakin at the end of the walk flanked by groomsmen he cared nothing about, and you soon to be flanked by bridesmaid you knew nothing of. Only a sick smile coated his face as he was drenched in black robes once more, watching you approach him with grace.

The ceremony began, a large beckoning exclamation filled the room as the looks of horror upon your peoples faces made you only avert your gaze.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Anakin's lips met yours, it was the first time he was to have kissed you. And the first of many he would use to remind you of your place, his hands folded to hold yours did you feel strings upon his fingers that held onto you like a marionette to a puppet.

You watched as he let up from your lips, a cacophony of cheers erupts from the crowd as the only thing you can focus on is him, the whisper he lets out that only you can hear.

“Til death do us part, my doll.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #vader x reader #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader smut #vaderkin

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granolawriting · 7 months

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working hard tonight to please you all tonight…… i have one or two ani fics coming before another onslaught of joel.

#i hope my sw oomfs are proud of me for prevailing through these tough times #the joel miller brain rot is a serious problem #maybe mando fics coming soon……..

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granolawriting · 7 months

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swipe to make pascalispunk scream ( x )

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granolawriting · 7 months

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New things ☆ ° *

pairing: Platonic Jedi!reader x Jedi Anakin

Summary: Anakin spent his young days as either a slave or "the chosen one". Never having the opportunity to really celebrate the holidays, you explain to him a celebration on your own planet for the fall season

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

A/N: This was literally so much fun to write, I really like writing anakins banter with the reader, and overall just the stupid things he'd say in my own interpritation of his character off the battle feild. I hope you enjoy!! This is the 3rd installment for my kinktober list, Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

“I feel dumb. Are you sure you’re not pulling one over on me?”

Anakin stares with inquisitive intent at the pumpkin you laid before him. Sat upon a steel counter of the kitchen within your room in the Jedi temple. Tossed on a small ottoman in the middle of your home was a bag full of ingredients for baking, holodramas of sith legends, and most importantly, the means for cutting up the pumpkins that sat before you and Anakin.

“Dude, I lived it and you didn't. Either you can trust me and stab the pumpkin, or you can forever live in a non-holiday spirit.”

“I just can't imagine that this actually got popular. What’s the meaning behind this?”

“Yaknow, this was initially made to scare away the sith ghosts that would roam the halls at night on the night before halloween.”

“That's total bull. I don't think this would scare a 5 year old.”

“You haven't even cut into it yet!”

Anakin holds up the traceable mold that came with the package of serrated knives and spoons, triangle eyes and comically sharp teeth.

“I don't have to to know that if a youngling saw this, they would start laughing at me.”

You snatch it away from him teasingly, a melodramatic face of anger contorting upon you,

“Well then, it seems like they have no holiday spirit either! Pay them no mind. There are those who get it, and those who don't!”

“Whatever. Just hand me the knife.”

“You don't even know what to do!”

Thus the first activity begins, detailing the two of you slowly cutting into pumpkins while a music box softly plays soundtracks of scary films from your childhood. Demonstrating to Anakin exactly how to cut into a pumpkin with less than graceful precision,

“You don't know what you’re doing.”

“Shut up! It's been a while.”

And as the top finally pops off of the head of the pumpkin, you and him rejoice in quite a small victory. Though the excitement upon his face only lasts a moment, because as he watches you delve elbow deep within the inside of the pumpkin, horror shocks him stiff.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

Eyes widened at the prospect of having to do that himself.

“What? Big scary Jedi doesn't like getting his hands dirty?”

Teasing inflection coats your voice at the sight of his distress.

“This is just disgusting! I don't mind getting dirty if it's not slimy shit all over my body.”

“Well, I suggest you take off that fancy robe.”

Exasperated sigh exits him with great dramatic flair, as he walks over to the living room to slowly disrobe as to take in his last seconds of cleanliness before his agreeance to engage in your home planet festivities weighs more and more on him like one of the worst decisions he’s ever made in his whole life.

Slowly does he inch his fingers inside the pumpkin itself, and when he reaches the bottom eyes close and eyebrows contort upwards.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die. It's a pumpkin not a dead tooka.”

“Thanks for that image.”

And so the two of you slowly scrape pumpkin into a larger bowl of insides between the both of you, melodramatic whines by Anakin that really bring out the kid in him. Anakin, despite being such a great warrior and chosen one, was still quite young. He never really had the ability to do childish things, growing up as a slave and thrusted into the jedi temple thereafter there was no room to be a kid-- do kid things. So that's what you focused on in your time with him. It consisted of helping him get in touch with who he really is, not who people exactly wanted him to be. And you bore through it, even if sometimes it meant feilding his complaints like a whining child who has to share their toys with other kids. When Anakin wasn't in the line of fire he was a simple, silly person. A boy, really.

The moment his pumpkin was satisfactorily scraped, he runs to wash his arms under water and copious amounts of soap.

“Oh, did you know people can be allergic to pumpkin?”

“You’re kidding right.”

“Yeah well I just hope you’re not.”

“Could've told me that before I just violated it like that.”

“Slipped my mind.”

After a bit more carving within the eyes and mouth of the hollow pumpkin, you adorn the iconic face of a halloween grin upon yours, and Anakin opting for a more sinister look upon his.

“You said it was supposed to scare people, none of the designs has that effect.”

Well Anakin, I think the most scary thing about this is how you cut it. I can barely tell what's going on here.”

“You don't understand my vision. It's for the sith ghost, not you.”

As the first activity of pumpkin cutting comes to an end, a small glow emitting within the pumpkins as you place the small glowing orb that completes every carving inside its center, you and Anakin stand back impressed with one another's work.

“I guess it wasn't half bad.”

“Told you”

The next project you two had up against you was baking. Now, once again you were well convinced that Anakin had never cooked his own food his entire life. At least, anything complex. Whenever he had to make his own food it was often very simple, laced with struggle. The peak of his culinary journey was 5 years old, for reference.

“Why do we need to put so many things in here? Aren't we making cookies?”

“Yes, but to make it not taste like sand then we’re gonna have to add more flavors.”

“Sand, very funny. What's with the paste?”

“The icing?”

“Whatever.”

“It's for after the cookie. We’re going to decorate it.”

“This seems like a lot of work for 2 bites.”

“You eat them in 2 bites?”

“I’ve got things to do.”

And thus the teaching begins once more. You have to explain how to keep the wet from the dry until you’re willing to mix everything, teaching him how to crack an egg as he fails in the process getting residue all over your countertop. You show him how to whisk, watching him struggle with the thick batter as the automatic one you keep in your cabinet stays sadistically untouched. And as you two finally finish the batter, you show him how to put them on the sheets properly.

“When you roll them, you have to remember they’re going to flatten and expand. Don't make them the size of a cookie, make them like a third of the size.”

“But if I made it the size of a cookie, I could have a 3x cookie. Mathematically speaking.”

“Yes, but don't do that. They’ll all stick together.”

“To make one monster cookie?”

“Theoretically yeah.”

“Noted.”

As he grabbed huge chunks of dough within the bowl you both shared, you just chose to pick your battles.

Setting the timer for 40 minutes, there were now 40 minutes to kill before you were able to get to the next part of the process-- decorating. Looking within your bag of festivities you find the holodramas that lie at the bottom of the bag, reminiscent of your childhood. The exaggerated stories of siths and creatures of the outer rim that would haunt and stalk you, stories that scared you awake when you were younger. You allow Anakin to pick from a few of the titles.

“Frankensith? The uh.. Friday before 429. The ewok in the woods. These all sound a little corny.”

“Again, you don’t get it. But I promise you watching these things will freak you out. The ewok one scared me so much I couldn't sleep for days afterwards.”

“And how old were you when that happened?”

“...fifteen.”

“You’re joking. Put it on.”

Dimming the sights of your living room do the both of you sink into the couch as you pull out the final thing that will stave you from hunger until the cookies are completed.

“What's with the wrapping on these?”

He pointed at the chocolate you unveiled, wrapped in various depictions of horror legends over the years.

“Isn't it scary?”

“He looks like he has a lazy eye.”

“He’s supposed to be undead!”

“Yeah, and with all that reanimation they cut him a little short.”

“That's mean!”

“Nothing so far has scared me, and the candy definitely isn't much different.”

“Whatever.”

The bowl sat between the two of you held various kinds of candy from chocolate to sower, as the movie slowly came to a head. Laid back and judgemental, did Anakin lie unbothered upon the couch, expecting nothing to really catch his eye about this film more than dumb special effects and poor acting.

Though as time went on you watched as his body slowly straightened, eyes with greater focus on the projection as the story grew deeper. You saw his face contort from indifference, to morbid curiosity, to the well awaited fear.

BEEP!

The oven goes off, which makes Anakin jump.

“HAH! You’re scared shitless aren't you.”

“Are you kidding me? These things are freaky by nature. Their little swords.. Their agility. I couldn't live.”

“Uh huh. Well get up we need to decorate the cookies.”

After allowing them to cool for a moment you begin to teach him how to pipe the icing onto the cookies. However as you gaze upon his own tray, there seems to be about 3 discernable cookies to your 6 well shaped ones.

“All this means is that I have more room for artistic expression than you.”

“Right. Just watch what I do and you can make whatever you want.”

And as you draw cute ghosts, small faces decorating each of their eyes and little bats and pumpkins to match their theme, another glance at Anakin's tray once again reminds you you’re dealing with a 10 year old. Upon his cookies did he design quite crude depictions of the ewok’s with angry expressions on their face, forever immortalized- until eaten of course -a glare of small and furry anger upon the cookie.

“Nice Anakin.”

The night came to a close after that, finishing the ewok holo with greater ease as the fear inhabiting Anakin slowly dissipated in the ability to eat them at the same time they were eating others in their traps. A dark sky fell within your room and as you sat there with Anakin, pumpkins illuminated with silly faces and a growing pile of colorful foil piling on your coffee table as the candy bowl depleted, you felt complete. The feeling of having not only someone to celebrate the holidays with, but someone to share them with made you feel a little less alone. And you knew Anakin felt the same.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #platonic anakin #platonic #anakin x jedi reader #anakin x platonic jedi

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